his arms with her. He nuzzled her hair, her cheek, and inhaled her scent. A hint of lavender teased his senses and he thought how it reminded him of her. Bright, fragrant, wild…the real Robin underneath her quiet exterior.
He hugged her close, relishing the feel of her softness against his body. He kissed her forehead, her nose, and inched his lips to her mouth…but didn’t kiss her. Instead, he lingered at the corner of those luscious lips—those luscious, petal-pink lips—and savored the puffs of sweet, heated breath against his cheek.
He pulled back and stared into her half-closed eyes. “What do you want, Robin?”
She licked her plump, moist lips.
That did it. A primal need erupted within him and he backed her against the door, clamping his mouth on hers. Earlier he’d felt like a starving man at a feast cut short, and now he made up for it with a savage hunger. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, devouring its flavors.
She eagerly reciprocated, accepting his kiss with a ferocity that made it damn hard for him to keep control. She kissed with the passion he’d tasted back in the diner. Hot, needy. A flower turned inside out, opening herself and her desires fully to him.
He nipped her neck and she groaned. He proceeded farther, tracing her collarbone with his lips, kissing and licking a path along her silky skin. He tasted her sweat, her fragrance…And when he reached the opening of the front of her dress, where every single pearl-size button was demurely fastened, he knew her clothing made a liar out of her. Those fastenings were a front, showing a woman seemingly tight, contained when he knew damn well that underneath this dress was fire and passion. He pulled away, his fingers lingering on the button.
Her gray-green eyes glinted with need as she leaned back, the movement releasing his hold on that single button. For a moment, she simply watched him, her shoulders pressed against the door, her hips thrust forward ever so slightly. Then, slowly, her hand moved up her dress, flat-palmed, sliding over her torso, up between her breasts, until she gently touched the top button which she rolled seductively between her fingers, watching him watching her.
He never thought he’d lose it over a button. But at this moment, he was in such erotic pain, it took all his willpower not to tear that damn rayon number off her.
She undid the button, slowly. Her lips moved, almost imperceptibly, and she whispered something….
He could barely hear through the blood roaring in his ears. He positioned his head close to her mouth, straining to hear her breathy tones.
“More,” she whispered. “More…”
“Oh, God, yes.” The soft ache in her voice fired his need. He gently pulled her hand off the button, then lifted her arm and pressed it against the door, pinning it over her head. He fit her other hand into the held one. With his free hand, he took his sweet time undoing the second button…gently pulled back the material to expose her skin.
He sucked in an appreciative breath. Her skin was pink and alabaster, just as he’d imagined. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. He closed his eyes, then opened them.I shouldn’t take it further.
As though picking up on his thoughts, she arched her back, thrusting her breasts against him. Such a natural, primitive gesture, almost innocent in its desire. And when she moaned his name, softly, he lowered his head and kissed the skin exposed at the opening to her dress. She tasted silky against his tongue. Smelled erotically sweet, like ripened fruit.
With a guttural groan, he undid the third button with his teeth, playing with the hardened button, imaging it to be her taut nipple. Opening the top of her dress wider with his free hand, he slid his tongue over the white lace that skimmed the top of her bra, gliding his lips over the soft mound of one breast, then the other…
A prolonged, scratchy sound fractured the moment.
Robin? Was he hurting her?
Johnny reared back and looked into Robin’s surprised expression.
Another scratchy, tormented sound. Accompanied by a heaviness on one of Johnny’s feet.
He quickly glanced down at a chubby cat, covered with more fur than he thought possible, perched on his right foot! The cat looked up, opened its mouth and emitted another long, scratchy me-e-e-e-o-ow.
With a groan, Robin sank down, her body still plastered against Johnny’s, and scratched the cat on its head. “Otto, why aren’t you inside your own home?”
Johnny held his breath, his body aflame. Robin had spoken, fluently, which moved him. Obviously she knew this furry feline very well—it probably belonged to one of her neighbors. But in the back of Johnny’s mind, he had a crazy hope that maybe her fluency was because she felt more comfortable with him.
Robin lifted the rotund cat and cradled it into her arms. Nuzzling its head with her chin, she scratched it behind its ear. The cat closed its eyes in bliss and purred so loud, it sounded like an engine chugging to life. Damn, he knew just how that cat felt right now.
“You can stay with me tonight, you silly thing.” Offering a slight smile to Johnny, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. She took a deep breath, her back to Johnny, hugging the cat tightly against her. Now was her moment.Ask him inside. Let him stay the night, too.
Damn, she was shaking just thinking about Johnny being inside her home, touching her, kissing her…savoring a night of love…something she’d never done with any man. Romps in the back seat of her hometown boyfriend’s car ended after a few hours, so she’d never known what it was like to have a man hold her the entire night. She could only imagine the sensation of her and Johnny’s bodies curled around each other, all night long, then watching the next day dawn on their new relationship as lovers.
And what would that relationship be? Maybe he had no intention of spending the night, and she’d wake up alone. Was there a girlfriend in the picture? There was definitely no wedding ring, but Johnny had always been good—no, make that dynamite—with women. Maybe he was playing the field, and she’d be just another woman in his menagerie….
Only when Otto squirmed in her arms, emitting an irritated meow, did Robin realize she was squeezing the poor cat to her chest, holding on to it like a furry life raft.
Instead of worrying, she needed to cut short tonight’s visit. She wished she could grab a piece of paper and write, “It’s happening too fast…let’s take our time, figure out what’s going on between us…” But instead she just stood and stared at him, her eyes growing moist with all the pent-up needs and emotions storming within her. Maybe he’d return…but she knew she shouldn’t count on it. This was, after all, an unusual reunion.
Johnny stared into her eyes, which glistened with emotions that confused him, and wondered what to do. He, who prided himself on knowing just how to read and play people, especially female people—digressed into an awkward teenager, unsure what his next step should be. Was she taking the cat and Johnny inside for the night? He felt a gut-deep yearning like he hadn’t experienced in years as he wished, damn near prayed, that he got visiting rights, as well.
Robin held the cat close, and for a moment, Johnny hated that cute, furry creature. So close to Robin’s silky, flower-scented skin, cuddled and cooed over.
Getting what Johnny wanted, bad.
A twittering sound came from somewhere behind Robin. She looked over her shoulder, then back to Johnny. “I—I have a bird.”
He waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. Instead, after a funny little shrug of her shoulders, she blinked rapidly—yet despite her nervous gestures, he swore he read that look in her eyes. Swore she wanted to ask him inside.
“G’night,” Robin mouthed and shut the door.
Well, he couldn’t have sworn that was going to happen.
Johnny remained standing on her doorstep for what seemed a small eternity, half tempted to meow pathetically like Otto in the hope Robin would reopen the door and take pity on him.
Right.