Taste Me by Tamara Hogan Page B

of focusing on some far point over his shoulder, like she typically did when they couldn’t avoid talking to each other. Her gaze stroked him like a fingertip.
    “So, you’re game?” she breathed. She sidled closer, stopping when her stomach was a mere molecule away from his violently aroused flesh. Her hands lifted, poised tantalizingly over his abs.
    Lukas held his breath. Was she going to do this? Was he going to let her?
    Yes and yes . He bit back a groan as she leaned her slight weight against him. His dick cuddled into the layers of clothing covering her flat stomach, her hipbones digging into his upper thighs like tiny fingers. As he lost the battle and reached for her ass, to drag her more firmly against him, she slithered around him instead.
    “As the great philosopher Mick Jagger once said, ‘You can’t always get what you want.’”
    Before he was aware of doing it, he snaked his arm around her waist and pinned her against the wall with a forearm wedged right under her breasts. And time slowed to a crawl. They both stood there, breathing heavily, each of them waiting to see what the other would do. Her eyes snapped with annoyance, but her mandarin arousal effervesced on his tongue, filled his head. Scarlett might deny it with her eyes, with her words, but her body couldn’t lie about her desire. Reluctant desire, to be sure, he admitted to himself, but it was there, regardless.
    She squirmed under his arm. Shit, he was pressing too hard. He eased back, her movements brushing the underside of her fleece-covered breasts against the sensitive hair on his forearm. No bra. He was actually touching her again—something he’d consigned to his memories, to fevered dreams which made him sweat through his bed sheets, and awaken with his hand moving on his hard, aching flesh.
    Despite being pinned up against a wall, she wasn’t pulling away from him, wasn’t saying no. If anything, her taste was darkening, deepening, and her hips tipped toward his body as if pulled by a magnet. She watched his mouth with dilated pupils that practically dared him to do something, anything. When her soft pink tongue licked her chapped lips, Lukas could practically see his common sense shake its head, reach for the popcorn, and settle back to enjoy the show.
    He leaned in with his body, lightly and carefully fusing them together from torso to knee. So thin, Lukas thought. Christ, he could feel her very bones. Stroking her delicate cheekbones with his thumbs, he clasped her head in his hands. Scarlett latched onto his wrists—to stop him? To pull him closer? A whisper-soft moan escaped from her lips, giving him his answer.
    It had been so long. He lowered his head slowly, centimeter by centimeter, waiting for her to call a halt to this mutual psychosis. It would kill him to stop, but if she asked him to, he’d find a way to do it. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his waist and stood on tiptoe to bring her lips closer to his. Her hot breath puffed against his chin, and he leaned down to—
    The conference room door opened not three feet from where Lukas plastered Scarlett to the wall with his body . Sasha eyed them both, raising a brow. “Scarlett, you’re finally out of the tub.” Her nostrils twitched, then she smiled mischievously. “Are you… coming?”
    What the hell was he doing? He peeled himself away. Watching Scarlett sag, then support herself against the wall sent every predatory cell in his body to howling. Get away. Now . “I’ve got work to do.” Lukas mentally swore at his sister’s knowing grin, her damn twitching nose, her horrible/fabulous timing, at his hypersensitive dick. He quickly turned away from them and stalked down the hall toward Sasha’s office.
    It was too much to hope that his sister hadn’t noticed the erection tenting his jeans.
    Reaching Sasha’s office, he barged in and closed the door behind him. Striding to the beat-up mini-fridge, he grabbed a Coke and gulped it, trying to wash