He took the kiss deeper, his hands stroking up and down her arms, forcing her to deal with the emotions roiling inside her, forcing her to deal with him.
He was so wrong about her. She didn’t write about him in her column because she had an ax to grind with player types who reminded her of Bentley Mathison.
If she wrote about Noah in her column, it was only because he led the type of glitzy private life that people liked to read about. Nothing more, except perhaps her own prejudice against someone whose glamorous and charmed life seemed so far from the everyday concerns of an average person like her.
She supposed he expected her to push him away now and break their kiss. Instead, she slid her arms around his neck.
She met him kiss for kiss.
She wasn’t going to run away from his challenge. She’d seen the way he’d looked at her tonight. He’d eaten her up with his eyes. No, Noah was far from immune to her, and she knew she had good odds of being the seducer rather than the seduced.
His arm snaked around her and pulled her flush up against him. He was all hard planes and muscles, big and male. And aroused, she thought, as a shiver went through her.
He lifted his head and sucked in a breath. His gaze was hot and intent. “You’re weakening,” he said, his voice raspy and hoarse with sexual excitement.
“So are you.” She sounded breathless.
“Just the invitation I needed,” he murmured.
“It wasn’t an invitation. It was a warning.”
He laughed softly and nuzzled her temple, then trailed whisper-light kisses along the side of her face.
“I’m a risk taker, remember?”
He blew lightly into her ear and she shuddered. She felt sensitized to his every move.
He kissed and then sucked on her earlobe before nibbling along her neck. One hand was splayed on her bare upper back; the other had gone to cup her backside, nestling her closer to his arousal.
Her head fell back to afford him better access and she closed her eyes. It was becoming harder to tell who was the seducer and who the seduced as they both became caught up in the moment.
Only when light fingers of cool air caressed her did she realize he’d lowered the zipper on her halter top, which now gaped around her to reveal her strapless black bra.
She sought his gaze.
His face was flushed, his gaze taking her in. “You’re beautiful.” He trailed his fingers along the satiny fabric of the bra. “Sexy. Like a Christmas package just waiting to be unwrapped.”
Her br**sts felt hot, heavy and tight under his hungry gaze, and a quivery warmth settled in her middle.
Then he was kissing her again, and she soon discovered that, not only was it unclear who was seducing whom, but it no longer seemed to matter.
All that did matter was that he continue to do wickedly pleasurable things to her. Because she wanted him with an intensity that surprised her.
When he’d finished unhooking her bra, he broke their kiss and sat on the edge of the couch behind him to kiss and nuzzle her br**sts.
She ran her fingers through his hair, which felt soft, thick and inviting, and caressed his thigh, which felt hard and sinewy, the muscles bunched.
She moaned as he laved one nipple and then blew softly on it, sending all her nerve endings into overdrive in the process.
“Noah…”
“Shh,” he said. “Don’t think. Just feel.”
He moved to her other breast, repeating his attention, as she shuddered against him.
It was too much and not enough.
Finally, he lifted his head. “You’ve got the most beautiful br**sts I’ve ever seen,” he said thickly. He traced the edge of one nipple, then the curve of her breast until she wanted to moan in response. “They’re full but firm and uptilted. The ni**les are tight and hot. Gorgeous.”
His words sent heat coursing through her veins, arousing her even more. She tugged at his tuxedo tie until it hung loose and undone. “Let me see you.”
Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt, while he shrugged out of his tux jacket. Once he’d gotten rid of his jacket and shirt, he pulled his white undershirt over his head and she was greeted by the sight of his smooth chest with its flat abs and defined muscles.
“Tit for tat. We’re even,” he said, his voice husky.
She ran her hands over his biceps, then trailed them over his chest. “You’re in fantastic shape.”
“I try even with my work schedule,” he murmured back, cupping her face and drawing her down to him.
He kissed her deeply, giving her his tongue again and again, his hands on her br**sts, then caressing her back, and then hiking her skirt so she could straddle his bent leg.
She moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair.
On and on, it went. Their movements more feverish, the slide of his leg against the juncture of her thighs sending her higher and higher while the brush of her leg against his arousal brought him more fully erect.
Finally, when she thought she could stand no more, he lifted his head and gazed at her. “I want you. Badly.”
She shook her head, sanity returning with a thunk. “We can’t.” She started to pull away but he held firm. “We shouldn’t even have kissed! I’m writing an article about your company. I need to remain impartial.” Not to mention the fact that she had an absolute rule against casual flings; they just didn’t agree with the women in her family.
He grimaced. “Believe me, I don’t think you’ve shown any problem remaining impartial where I was concerned in the past.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.”
He looked into her eyes. “I’ll tell you. Bentley Mathison. You were thrown for a loop.”
He saw too much, and she still didn’t want to talk about it. She gave him a shove, intending to get him to loosen his grip, but instead, she threw off his center of gravity, and he fell backward onto the couch, taking her with him.
They landed in a heap. Her br**sts pressed against his chest, his erection nestled against her and their legs tangled together.
She froze. She felt him everywhere, and he felt so good. It had been months since she’d had sex, and before that she’d hardly been a swinger. Despite her seemingly glamorous life, a lot of her socializing was work-related.
And now here was Noah Whittaker: Heartthrob. Former racing stud. Playboy millionaire. Scion of one of Boston’s leading families. Underneath her. On her couch.
Oh boy. She lifted her head and her eyes connected with his green ones.
The sides of his mouth had teased upward. “If you wanted to be on top, all you had to do was say so.” Then he kissed her.