One Night Standards by Cathy Yardley

guilty.”
    â€œAnd yet,” he said, laughing bitterly, “that’s exactly how I feel.”
    She silenced him by kissing his neck, then she felt her heart start to beat faster, her stomach tightening with desire. She felt her hands inch lower, her fingertips dancing over the hard planes of his abdomen. “You’re not making me do anything,” she said, and she gave in to temptation. She shifted her fingers lower, brushing over his erection, which sprang fully to life beneath her touch.
    â€œYou’re not making this easier,” he said through gritted teeth. “Sophie, I don’t want to do anything that you’re going to regret later.”
    She paused, her hands perilously close to his waistband. “I don’t want to do anything that I’m going to regret later, either,” she said, desire battling against uncertainty.
    She knew what was going to win.
    â€œSo what do we do now?” she breathed, her blood pounding hot and heavy in her chest.
    His hand stroked her back, and his other hand cupped the side of her face. His face was the picture of perfection, harsh and gorgeous and full of passion.
    â€œWould you regret it,” he asked, his voice fierce, “if we never slept together?”
    That surprised her, but she knew that he was just trying to convince her…to convince them both. She thought about it, then finally made her decision.
    â€œYes,” she said. “Yes, I would.”
    â€œNo one will find out,” he said, almost to reassure himself as much as her. “And we won’t do this again, not if it makes you unhappy, or if you do wind up feeling regret. This won’t affect the competition, or any business matters, or anything else whatsoever.” He kissed along her jawline, and her pulse danced beneath his attention, causing his words to simply float in her mind, almost meaninglessly. “It’s a risk, Sophie. But I think it’s one worth taking.”
    â€œOh,” she murmured, as his hands cupped her breasts. “Yes…”
    â€œI won’t do anything to hurt you,” he promised her. “No matter what this is, I swear I won’t do anything to hurt you.”
    She arched her back, releasing herself back onto the bed. She started to unbutton his shirt with trembling fingers.
    â€œI know you won’t,” she said, and gave herself over.

    â€œI JUST WANT YOU ,” he said, saying the thought that was blazing through him like electricity. “I want you so damned much….”
    She leaned up and kissed him again, and this time there was nothing confused or tentative about it. Her lips teased at his, even as her hands tugged his shirt off. He swept his tongue into her mouth, tickling against hers, and she moaned, savoring the taste of him. They broke apart long enough for him to take off her blouse, and he kissed at the lacy edges of her bra as she sighed with pleasure and tugged off her skirt, leaving her only in matching midnight-blue lingerie. He growled with approval.
    â€œPants,” she said to him, undoing his fly.
    They made quick work of his pants, socks, shoes and boxers. She was stretched across the chintz cover, her pale skin looking like cream against the lingerie. Her eyes blazed with invitation, her curls tumbling wildly about her shoulders.
    She was the most amazing woman he’d ever seen. He reached for her like a starving man, all other thoughts leaving his head in a rush. He kissed her eagerly, wanting to taste all of her—her shoulders, the hollow behind her elbow, the slight indentations of her ribs. She was breathing in sharp pants, her short fingernails clawing delicately against his back, stroking him to incoherence. He leaned down, taking off her panties, and finding the matching curls between her thighs. He reached in, feeling her already damp and waiting for him. He kissed her hips, then her legs, before stroking a quick lick at the juncture