Free Basic Attraction by Erin McCarthy Page B

adorable.
    “Come to my room.” He tugged her hand, leading her down the hall.
    She dragged her feet. “Aren’t you hungry?”
    This was a stupid question. He was so hungry for her he could barely walk. “I’m trying to take care of it.”
    “No!” She laughed. “For dinner.”
    “Later.” Much later. Who needed food when he could nibble on her ribs and her other tasty parts.
    “Oh, my God. What are you wearing?” she asked with a laugh.
    “What?” He glanced down at his T-shirt. He laughed, too. Every time he saw this shirt, he still laughed. It said ‘Here’s a Photo of my Nuts,’ and above was a pair of peanuts in top hats, old-school Polaroid-picture style. “Funny, huh?”
    “Okay, I can admit it. That one’s not so bad.”
    “If it offends you, I can take it off.”
    Her eyes widened and she said in a very unconvincing voice, “Yes, I am. I’m very, very offended.”
    “My apologies, ma’am.” Ripping his shirt off and tossing it to the carpet, he stopped in front of the mattress on the floor and felt a moment of guilt. These weren’t exactly romantic circumstances they were in. Maybe tomorrow night they could go to her place. He figured her to be the big-bed type, with lots of pillows and a fluffy comforter.
    Unfortunately for now, this was going to have to do. He drew her to him for a kiss. She tasted minty, her breath a strange combination of hot and cool. His urgency relaxed. She felt so good, so right, in his arms.
    Pulling back, he traced the vein that pulsed in her neck. He loved the long, delicate curves of her, with all these dips and grooves to settle his tongue into. He did so now, stretching the neck of her shirt down so he could flick his tongue into the valley behind her breasts.
    They both groaned. Sucking on the soft flesh, he slid the shirt down farther. Hands on his head pushed him away.
    Startled, he looked up at her. “What’s wrong?”
    “You’re…” She paused to take a deep breath. “You’re stretching my shirt out. It’ll be ruined.”
    Why women cared about these things, he’d never know. She could tear, stretch, mutilate every shirt he owned during the height of passion and he wouldn’t blink. Nor would he ever regret his loss. But he didn’t want to come off as a bully. She’d never let him live that down.
    “Sorry.” He abandoned the neck of the shirt and grabbed it at the bottom, pulling it up and over her head in one smooth motion. Then he nearly stopped breathing.
    Sheri wasn’t wearing her work bra. She was wearing something that was designed to torment him. It was pink, a frothy scrap of lace that barely covered her nipples. That it did was incidental, since it was see-through. The thing was pushing her breasts up and together so there was the most delicious swell of creamy flesh above the lace.
    He’d never taken her for the type to wear pink. Or lace. Sheri was pretty no-nonsense most of the time. But she also had a shy, almost whimsical side to her, and this side obviously shopped in lingerie shops and knew how to please a man. Or drive him insane.
    He felt cross-eyed. Incapable of speech. He stared, painfully drawing a ragged breath in.
    Her eyes went wide. “Don’t you like it?” She licked her lips. “I thought you would.”
    “Like it?” he croaked. “Oh, baby, I… Oh, Sheri, it…” He swallowed and collected his thoughts. Ripping his eyes away from her cleavage, he forced himself to meet her worried eyes. “You’re gorgeous. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Taking her hands, he kissed her gently and whispered in her ear, “I like it. It turns me on. Like it really, really turns me on.”
    He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been a hand stroking across the front of his jeans. He froze. He was supposed to be comforting her. He was the seducer here. Wasn’t he?
    Shy Sheri was no more. A glimpse of her face revealed a wicked determination stealing across her features. A hand tugged at the