Free Sleeping with the Playboy by Julianne MacLean Page B

the wine into the living room where Jocelyn sat, curled up on his huge white sofa.
    He stopped in the entranceway. God, he couldn’t get over how incredible she looked in that slinky, black dress. It set off the ebony color of her hair and complemented the creamy whiteness of her complexion; it brought out her full, rose-petal lips. She looked like a goddess.
    â€œThis really is a beautiful home you have, Donovan,” she said, looking up at him. “I haven’t said it before, but it’s very inviting. And this sofa—I could get lost in it.”
    She stroked the soft upholstery with a graceful hand.
    Donovan stood motionless, watching her long slender arm move back and forth across the cushions.His blood quickened in his veins. What he wouldn’t give to be one of those cushions now….
    Groping for his equilibrium, he fully entered the room and handed a glass to her, then sat down on the sofa.
    â€œI had a great time tonight,” he said. “We should do it again.”
    She looked at him with those big brown eyes over the rim of her glass as she took the first sip, then set her glass on the coffee table. “I had a nice time, too, but I’m not so sure we should do it again.”
    â€œAnd why is that?” But he knew why.
    â€œBecause I wouldn’t want us to end up having too good a time together.”
    â€œI see. Better that we have completely lousy conversations and get on each others nerves every minute of the day?”
    She peered down at her glass. “You know what I mean.”
    He gazed at her feminine profile, feeling the pulse of his heart, the hum of his blood through his body. “No, I don’t. Tell me.”
    He wanted this woman. There was no point denying it. She was the most intriguing creature he’d ever encountered in his life. Brave. Intelligent. Witty. Independent. Unimpressed with the fact that he was a millionaire.
    He set down his wine. Reaching one arm across the back of the sofa, he stroked her bare shoulder with a thumb.
    She didn’t push his hand away; all she did was wet her deliciously full lips, which were already moist from the wine.
    â€œI mean the same thing I’ve said before,” she said. “That you’re my client and there’s—”
    â€œSomething happening between us.”
    He could see the gentle pulse at her neck begin to beat with fervent intensity. He half expected her to get up off the sofa and walk out on him. But she didn’t. For a long, tense few seconds, she just sat there while he stroked her shoulder.
    â€œYes, there is,” she finally said in a breathy voice that sent him hurling over the edge.
    He couldn’t fight it anymore. Desire was burning through him like an all-encompassing fire. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman this badly.
    How did she do this to him, and why?
    He didn’t care why. All he knew was that he had to have her. He had to satisfy this searing need to touch.
    Slowly, cautiously, he leaned toward her. Close enough that he could smell the perfumed fragrance of her hair, feel her wine-scented breath against his face.
    He hovered there, inches from her lips, waiting to see if she was in agreement, and when she made no move to pull back, he pressed his lips to hers.
    Tentatively at first. Exploring. Seeking. Then she let out a soft little erotic whimper that fired his blood to the breaking point.
    Her willing response sent a surge of voracious lust whipping through him like a cyclone. He cupped her head in his hands and felt her lips part for him, then he swept his tongue into her hot, wet mouth and deepened the kiss.
    She whimpered with pleasure again….
    He inched across the sofa, close enough so that he could take all of her into his arms. She melted into him like warm butter, reaching around his shoulders and raking her fingers through his hair. She was bewitching.
    He slid his hand down the side of her gown and