Free The Virgin's Night Out by Shiloh Walker Page A

lovely—and completely bewitching. “There’s no problem here, Boone.” Then she turned away and moved into the kitchen. “I’ve had a rough day. Would you like some wine?”
    Wine.
    She was offering him wine.
    Why in the hell did he feel so disappointed? He hadn’t…
    “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “Sure.”
    He didn’t need wine and he didn’t need to linger, but he wasn’t ready to leave either.
    A few minutes, he accepted the glass she offered and turned away as she poured her own.
    He took a sip and then hissed as the sugar hit his system. “Is this wine or just liquid sugar?”
    “The only way I like it.”
    He looked back at her as she took a small sip and then put the glass down and turned back to the fridge. “How long are you in town?”
    He mumbled an answer that barely made sense—even to him—as his gaze slid down her back and locked on the curve of her ass.
    Leave. You got what you came here for. There’s no reason to stay . That knowledge frustrated him, aggravated him.
    “So there’s…”
    She stiffened as he moved up behind her.
    The scent of her rushed straight to his head. Without conscious thought, he reached out and rested a hand on her hip, waiting for her to pull away.
    She was rigid, her spine a stiff line.
    Slowly, he slid his hand around until he could press his palm to her belly and tug her back against him.
    “Sloane…” he murmured her name and lowered his head.
    She shivered.
    “I already told you what you needed to know,” she said, her voice hoarse.
    Had she?
    Catching her chin in his hand, he tugged her face around to meet is. Their gazes connected for a long moment before he swept his across her face, let it linger on her lips.
    “Did you?” he asked absently. He pressed his thumb to her lip. She sucked in a breath and he dragged his gaze up to meet hers. “I keep thinking about your mouth.”
     
     
    My mouth…?
    Sloane stared up at him and when he pressed down against her lower lip, she instinctively opened and caught the tip of his finger between her teeth.
    A ragged groan rose out of him.
    Then, as he stared into her eyes, he lowered his head, sealing his mouth over hers.
    With her back pressed to his front, his arm holding her back against him, she could barely move. Desperate for another contact, a deeper one, she reached up and cupped her hand over the back of his neck.
    He lifted his mouth just long enough to whisper, “Open for me, Sloane. Let me in.”
    She couldn’t have denied him that—or anything else. When his tongue dipped inside her mouth, she whimpered and arched back against him.
    He groaned, one hand catching her hip and holding her steady as he rocked against her. She felt each stroke right in the heart of her, each pang echoing through her body until she thought it would drive her mad.
    “Sloane…?”
    Dragging her lashes up, she rested her head against his shoulder. His hand had worked her blouse free from the waistband of her skirt—the skirt was tighter. In another month, it might not zip. A sudden harsh breath escaped her and she tensed.
    His lashes swept low.
    When he went to pull away, though, she closed her hand over his wrist, squeezed.
    “I should go,” he whispered against her lips.
    “Why? Why are you here?”
    “I already told you.”
    “And I gave you the answer, so why are you still here when you have a job to get ready for?”
    His hands tightened on her hips with enough force to hurt.
    “Because I…”
    When he didn’t answer, she turned in the circle of his arms, trapped between his body and the counter.
    “I needed to know,” he said and the words came out in a slow, uneven rumble.
    “So you know. There’s no problem. If that’s all you need…”
    “It’s not.”
    She didn’t even have time to prepare as his mouth slanted over hers.
    Through the lightweight sweater she wore, she could feel the heat of his hands as he caught her hips and dragged her closer. She caught her breath and the gasp