“I...I didn’t mean...” Maybe it would be better to keep her mouth shut. She truly wasn’t sure where the question had come from, except she knew Vivian hadn’t been worried about Sloan being around long-term. She chose the safe route. “I know you have other companies, other projects.”
“Yes, but my father’s company means a hell of a lot more to me than those.”
Immediately guilt settled in Ziara’s stomach. In her own panic, she’d forgotten the whole reason Sloan was even at Eternity Designs. “I’m sorry, Sloan.”
For a moment he didn’t move, his tall body a looming tower, his head lowered as if in grief. But when his head lifted once more, none of that emotion showed on his face. He crossed the short space between them to take her once more in his arms. “Look, this will be fine. I’m only your boss for a couple more months, at the most. Until then we’ll keep this strictly out of the office.”
She couldn’t help but wonder if she accepted his reasoning simply to give herself permission to stay right where she was, burrowed deep in his warmth and masculine scent. But for once she was going to do what she wanted, not what the job required. “Agreed,” she whispered.
After a thorough kiss, Sloan cocked his head to one side. His nostrils flared as he breathed deep.
“What’s that smell?” he asked.
Sniffing, Ziara caught a whiff of Sloan’s citrusy scent, followed quickly by the sharp tang of burning cheese.
“Oh, no,” she said, rushing toward the hall. “The lasagna.”
Fourteen
Ziara was able to salvage most of dinner because only the outer edges had burned. Sloan found this very amusing and teased her as they ate.
“You are a great cook,” he finally said. “Who taught you?”
She picked up their plates and crossed to the sink, feeling a little too vulnerable still to face him. “I taught myself.” Turning on the water, she rinsed the plates. “My mom...worked a lot. I had to either cook or live off cheese and crackers.”
Not wanting to elaborate, she concentrated on cleaning up. Ever since her brain had come down from its mind-numbing high, she’d been struggling with conflicting emotions. She didn’t want to enjoy being with Sloan, and the fact that she did—although enjoy was way too mild a word for how she was feeling—was something she might not be ready to face. Being with him intimately hadn’t been dirty or sordid or even ordinary. And it wasn’t just the sex she’d enjoyed, it was the eating and talking and laughing....
Ziara was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Sloan approaching until his warmth cradled her back. “What are you doing?” he asked, his hands resting on her hips. His moist lips nuzzled through her hair to the back of her neck.
More than anything she wanted to melt into his warmth, to experience again the joy of being a part of him.
“I—I’m cleaning up. What does it look like?”
“What if I want some more?”
Twisting in his grip, she tried to see his face. “Why didn’t you say something? You can have another plate.”
He closed in, his hips tight against her backside, giving her an unmistakable impression of his hardness. “I didn’t mean more food.”
Her breathing accelerated, currents of excitement jumping from his hands straight between her thighs. She wanted to stroke back and forth, letting every inch of her back discover every inch of his front. Then she’d turn and repeat the moves all over.
He was an addiction. A tempting treat. She could discover every texture and taste of his body, branding him as hers with her scent and touch. As his hands traveled from her hips to her breasts, she wondered if she was losing her mind.
At least she was enjoying the ride.
He turned her to face him, claiming her mouth with his. Slowly unbuttoning and unzipping her capris, he allowed them to slide down to the floor around her feet, followed quickly by her panties.
With a flex of his biceps, he lifted her onto the tile counter. A squeal rang out as her bare bottom met the chilled surface. He chuckled.
“That’s sadistic,” she accused.
He grinned, his dark gold hair falling softly from the crown of his head to frame his devilish good looks, reminding her of a Hollywood bad boy.
“I’m all about the sensations,” he said.
The grin quickly melted into a more serious look, making her feel like prey. Her heartbeat picked up again, and she tried to pull him to her, but he didn’t budge. Layers disappeared: her sweater and cotton T-shirt, followed by the tank she’d put on in lieu of a bra.
He kissed her thoroughly, letting his hands trail down her arms, which he guided behind her and propped on the counter.