Midnight Bayou

traffic, so the city council asked me to leave.” He skimmed his cheek over hers. “I smell you in my sleep. And wake up wanting you.”
    Her heart began to shiver, like something feeling warmth after a long freeze. “I knew you were trouble, the minute you stepped up to my bar.” She stretched under the hand that ran down her back. “I just didn’t know how much trouble.”
    “Plenty.” He scooped her off her feet, crushed his mouth to hers until they both moaned. “Which way?”
    “Mmm. I’ve got a number of ways in mind.”
    What blood was left in his head shot straight down to his loins. “Ha. I meant which way is your bedroom.”
    With a low laugh, she chewed on his bottom lip. “Door on the left.”
    He had a number of impressions as he carried her across the room, through the doorway. Vibrant colors, old wood. But most of his senses were wrapped around the woman in his arms. The weight of her, the shape and scent. The surprise that flickered over her face when he set her on her feet beside the bed instead of on it.
    “I’d like to take my time with this, if it’s all the same to you.” He trailed a fingertip down her collarbone, over the lovely curve of breast the dress displayed. “You know, like unwrapping a present.”
    “I can’t say I mind that.”
    She’d expected a rush—fast hands, hungry mouth—tomatch the reckless lust she’d seen in his gaze. When his hands took hers, linked fingers, and his lips lay silky on her lips, she remembered how ruthlessly he’d controlled his temper the day before.
    It seemed his control reached to other passions as well.
    She wasn’t prepared for romance. He’d realized it when she’d seen the tulips. More than surprise, there’d been suspicion in her eyes. Just as there was now as he slowed the pace, lingered over the quiet pleasure of a kiss.
    Seducing her into bed was no longer enough. He wanted to seduce that suspicion into helpless pleasure.
    Her lips were warm and willing. It was no hardship to mate his with them, to float on that lazy slide of tongues while their bodies swayed together as if they were still dancing.
    He knew when her fingers went limp in his that she floated with him.
    He lowered the zipper of her dress in one slow glide and traced his fingers over the newly exposed flesh. She arched her back, and all but purred.
    “You’ve got good hands, cher , and very sexy lips.” Watching him now, as he watched her, she loosened the knot of his tie. “Let’s see about the rest of you.”
    There was something about undressing a man in a suit, she thought. The time it took to remove all the layers to get to skin, built anticipation, honed curiosity. He touched her as she unbuttoned his shirt, easing the dress off her shoulders so that it clung, erotically, to the curve of her breasts. He nibbled at her mouth, never hurrying, never groping.
    And when she opened his shirt, ran her hands over his chest with a little hum of approval, she felt the heavy beat of his heart under her palms.
    “Some build you’ve got for a lawyer.”
    “Ex-lawyer.” It was like dying, he thought, dying by inches to have those long, slender fingers with those hot red nails running over him. She pinched lightly at his biceps, licked her lips.
    “Yes indeed, you’re just full of surprises. I like a strong man.”
    She tapped her nails on his belt buckle, and her smile was female. Feline. “Let’s see what other surprises you’ve got for me.”
    They were dancing again, the oldest dance, and somehow she’d taken the lead. His stomach muscles quivered when she whipped the belt off, tossed it over her shoulder.
    In his mind he saw himself throwing her down on the bed, pounding himself and this outrageous need into her. She’d accept it.
    She’d expect it.
    Instead, he took both her hands before she could unhook his trousers and lifted them to his lips. Watching her over them, he saw the surprise—and again the suspicion.
    “I seem to be falling behind,” he said playfully. “And since I’ve been wondering what you’ve got on under that dress, I’d like to find out how close my speculations were to reality.”
    He laid his lips on her bare shoulder, used them to nudge the material down her arm. And blessed the laws of gravity when it slid down and puddled at her feet.
    She wore black lace.
    She was every man’s fantasy. Dusky skin, tumbled hair, full, high breasts barely restrained in that fancy of lace. The slim torso, the gently rounded