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wanted this a very, very long time.”
    That elegant, long-fingered hand stroked down the front of his shirt. The smile that curled her lips was so smug, so sexy and female—if he hadn’t already been rock hard and aching…fuck, he could have gone to his knees and begged just then.
    And when her fingers closed around him, stroked him through his trousers, he almost did. The smile on her mouth widened. “Taylor, you want me, too. So, tell me…why is this insane?”
    There was a reason. No. Not reason . Reasons. Lots of them. He knew it. But as those fingers stroked up, then down, he couldn’t think of them, not a single one.
    Staring into her sloe eyes, he dredged up a couple of those reasons. “You work for me. I’m your boss—this is a bad fucking idea.”
    “Then I guess maybe we shouldn’t tell anybody.”
    Yes, that’s a good idea… Shit. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t.
    * * *
     
    DEZ could see the war being waged in his eyes and if she had any sense at all, she’d back off. She already knew she’d have a hard time facing him when she went back to work—hell, five minutes from now when the fog cleared from her brain—but she couldn’t back off. She needed this, needed him. The ache was a constant, pulsing emptiness inside her and it grew worse and worse with every passing second.
    Instead of backing away as common sense demanded, she teased the line of his mouth with her tongue and delighted as she felt him tremble against her. The subtle power in that lean body had always amazed her…and she could make him tremble.
    It was a drug.
    That would explain why her brain suddenly went beyond haywire, why every last nerve ending started to buzz and jitter and vibrate. Fisting her free hand in his shirtfront, she pulled him closer and sank her teeth into his lower lip. “Tell me something, Taylor…you ever turn that brain of yours off?”
    He swore.
    And she could almost hear it as the threads of his control snapped. His hands grabbed her, hauled her against him. Breathlessly, she laughed against his mouth and whispered, “My bedroom’s down the hall.”
    But she didn’t think he even heard her.
    Five seconds later, Dez wasn’t even sure she remembered where her bedroom was. She went from standing pressed against his body to sitting on the cool marble of the kitchen island, with him standing between her thighs.
    Always, always, always Taylor Jones presented a remote, impassive mask to the world, but the man staring down at her now was anything but remote, anything but impassive. His steely blue eyes glittered with hunger, and harsh flags of color stained his high, elegant cheekbones.
    As his mouth crushed down on hers, Dez barely had two seconds to think, to realize…all that hunger, it was for her .
    But for all that burning hunger, his hands were gentle as he stripped away her shirt, infinitely gentle as he peeled it away. “Your skin is so soft, so fragile,” he whispered, dipping his head to press a kiss to her shoulder.
    “I’m not the least bit fragile,” she said, her voice husky. She fisted a hand in the silky, short hair at his nape and guided his head to her breasts. “Touch me, Taylor. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.”
    He buried his face between her breasts as he reached around and unfastened her bra, drawing it away and dropping it to the floor. When his mouth closed around one swollen nipple, Dez groaned. She started to arch her head back but the tender, healing flesh at her neck protested and she hissed out.
    Taylor stiffened, pulling back.
    But when he would have pulled away, she fisted a hand in the front of his shirt. “Don’t you dare,” she said. Catching his wrist, she guided his hands back to her, lowering her gaze. “I want to see you touching me.”
    His hands, tanned, lean, and elegant, looked so damned nice against her darker skin, she decided.
    “You’re not up to this,” Taylor muttered.
    But that didn’t keep him from