If it wasn’t for the fact that this was supposed to be just a little test, a one-time deal, she might have let it all go, thrown down the gauntlet—or her clothes—and completely lost herself in him as he kissed her as though she were his greatest fantasy come true. Because there, between the hard wall and his equally hard body, she felt desired. Beautiful.
Wanted.
It staggered her, literally staggered her. For so long she’d been by herself, on her own. Strong, independent, fine, and yet with just one kiss, that unraveled a little bit, and she knew that this man, this one man, was going to shake her to her very core. Which meant that she should step free and—
“Mmm,” he murmured huskily, gliding a hand up and down her back, fingers spread wide as if he wanted, needed, to touch as much of her as possible. His other hand was still tangled in her hair, his big palm cupping her head for the kiss that was quickly becoming the mother of all kisses, hot and wet and deep, and she changed her mind about stepping free. She wanted it to never stop.
Never.
Beneath her fingers, his heart was no longer even close to steady, but thudding in a heavy, erratic beat that matched hers as he dragged his hands over her, cupping her bottom, squeezing as another rough moan of raw need rumbled from his chest. Then his hands went on the move again, heading north, thumbs brushing her ribs, so close to her br**sts she caught her breath and wished.
Touch me . . .
Instead, he stopped. Stopped kissing her, stopped moving, just remained utterly still with his mouth on hers, sharing air, his fingers nearly but not quite touching her br**sts.
She tried to collect herself and failed. “Huh,” she finally managed.
A low sound escaped him, a half laugh, half groan, and he dropped his hands to her waist, touching his forehead to hers. “Yeah. Huh.”
“That was . . .”
He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. “Unexpected?”
“To say the least.” Her breathing was still ragged, her body still trembling, and all she could think was, he had to go out there and play in front of tens of thousands of fans and she wanted another kiss. His eyes were so dark now, so dark they were almost black, and filled with so much heat she nearly melted on the spot. “So,” she said. “No chemistry, right?”
“Right.”
At his lie, she laughed and dropped her head back so that it thunked against the wall. “This is crazy.”
“Agreed.” He slid one hand up to cup her head again, protecting it from the wall, and it was that, that one little gesture more than anything else he’d done, that told her the truth.
He was sexy, smart, funny, and hot. Very hot.
But he was also kind.
Dammit.
She could resist a whole hell of a lot of things, but a basic kindness wasn’t one of them. The guy ran from stalkers instead of having them arrested. He helped out kids. He took stupid writers who got conked in the head to the doctor for X-rays . . .
And he kissed so amazingly that she knew she’d be dreaming of him for days.
Weeks.
“Pace.”
“Holly.”
She let out a small smile when what she really felt like doing was stripping him naked and eating him for dinner. “That had more than a tad bit of chemistry to it.”
There was something about the way he looked at her that made the backs of her knees sweat. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It did.”
“Maybe . . .” She tipped up her head and looked at his beautiful mouth, still wet from hers. “Maybe we didn’t try hard enough to not want each other.”
His other hand tightened lightly on her waist as a slow smile curved his lips. “Great minds,” he murmured, and oh God yeah, once again covered her mouth with his.
It was insane to wrap her arms around his neck and go for it with more gusto than she had anything in recent memory. But she’d been so . . . restless. Bored. Unsettled, and missing something.
And yet here in his arms, his tongue dancing to hers, she wasn’t restless or bored.
Not unsettled at all.
And missing exactly nothing . . .
In fact, she wanted to crawl inside him and keep feeling like this, for as long as she could, and given how he had her backed up to the wall, a certain portion of his anatomy pressing into her belly, she knew he felt the same. So she gave herself over to it, lost herself in his scent, his taste, the feel of him—
Until someone behind them cleared his throat.
With a startled gasp, she yanked her hands off Pace, peering around his wide shoulders.
Red stood there, clearly unhappy. “Goddamn, Pace.” He pulled out his inhaler. “Before a f**king game?”
Pace sighed. “We need a minute.”
“Yeah, we do,” Red said, glancing meaningfully at Holly.
“I meant Holly and me,” Pace said.
Red tossed up his hands. “Jesus.”
“A minute,” Pace repeated.
At that, Red stalked off, leaving a deafening silence.
Through it, Pace reached out and stroked a strand of hair from Holly’s jaw, tucking it behind her ear. “I have no idea what to do about you.”
That much she knew. “I suppose you could pretend that there’s no chemistry, that you got it out of your system.”
“Could we?”
“We? No.” She shook her head. “I’m not all that good at pretending anything.”
His lips quirked, but he didn’t smile. “Good thing I am then.”
Holly found herself seated next to Samantha for the game. The publicist was dressed in her usual princess-with-a-Nordstrom’s-account style, in a fitted business suit that dripped sophistication and elegance. She’d topped it off with a straw hat that had a Heat orange flower stuck in the band.
Wanted.
It staggered her, literally staggered her. For so long she’d been by herself, on her own. Strong, independent, fine, and yet with just one kiss, that unraveled a little bit, and she knew that this man, this one man, was going to shake her to her very core. Which meant that she should step free and—
“Mmm,” he murmured huskily, gliding a hand up and down her back, fingers spread wide as if he wanted, needed, to touch as much of her as possible. His other hand was still tangled in her hair, his big palm cupping her head for the kiss that was quickly becoming the mother of all kisses, hot and wet and deep, and she changed her mind about stepping free. She wanted it to never stop.
Never.
Beneath her fingers, his heart was no longer even close to steady, but thudding in a heavy, erratic beat that matched hers as he dragged his hands over her, cupping her bottom, squeezing as another rough moan of raw need rumbled from his chest. Then his hands went on the move again, heading north, thumbs brushing her ribs, so close to her br**sts she caught her breath and wished.
Touch me . . .
Instead, he stopped. Stopped kissing her, stopped moving, just remained utterly still with his mouth on hers, sharing air, his fingers nearly but not quite touching her br**sts.
She tried to collect herself and failed. “Huh,” she finally managed.
A low sound escaped him, a half laugh, half groan, and he dropped his hands to her waist, touching his forehead to hers. “Yeah. Huh.”
“That was . . .”
He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. “Unexpected?”
“To say the least.” Her breathing was still ragged, her body still trembling, and all she could think was, he had to go out there and play in front of tens of thousands of fans and she wanted another kiss. His eyes were so dark now, so dark they were almost black, and filled with so much heat she nearly melted on the spot. “So,” she said. “No chemistry, right?”
“Right.”
At his lie, she laughed and dropped her head back so that it thunked against the wall. “This is crazy.”
“Agreed.” He slid one hand up to cup her head again, protecting it from the wall, and it was that, that one little gesture more than anything else he’d done, that told her the truth.
He was sexy, smart, funny, and hot. Very hot.
But he was also kind.
Dammit.
She could resist a whole hell of a lot of things, but a basic kindness wasn’t one of them. The guy ran from stalkers instead of having them arrested. He helped out kids. He took stupid writers who got conked in the head to the doctor for X-rays . . .
And he kissed so amazingly that she knew she’d be dreaming of him for days.
Weeks.
“Pace.”
“Holly.”
She let out a small smile when what she really felt like doing was stripping him naked and eating him for dinner. “That had more than a tad bit of chemistry to it.”
There was something about the way he looked at her that made the backs of her knees sweat. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It did.”
“Maybe . . .” She tipped up her head and looked at his beautiful mouth, still wet from hers. “Maybe we didn’t try hard enough to not want each other.”
His other hand tightened lightly on her waist as a slow smile curved his lips. “Great minds,” he murmured, and oh God yeah, once again covered her mouth with his.
It was insane to wrap her arms around his neck and go for it with more gusto than she had anything in recent memory. But she’d been so . . . restless. Bored. Unsettled, and missing something.
And yet here in his arms, his tongue dancing to hers, she wasn’t restless or bored.
Not unsettled at all.
And missing exactly nothing . . .
In fact, she wanted to crawl inside him and keep feeling like this, for as long as she could, and given how he had her backed up to the wall, a certain portion of his anatomy pressing into her belly, she knew he felt the same. So she gave herself over to it, lost herself in his scent, his taste, the feel of him—
Until someone behind them cleared his throat.
With a startled gasp, she yanked her hands off Pace, peering around his wide shoulders.
Red stood there, clearly unhappy. “Goddamn, Pace.” He pulled out his inhaler. “Before a f**king game?”
Pace sighed. “We need a minute.”
“Yeah, we do,” Red said, glancing meaningfully at Holly.
“I meant Holly and me,” Pace said.
Red tossed up his hands. “Jesus.”
“A minute,” Pace repeated.
At that, Red stalked off, leaving a deafening silence.
Through it, Pace reached out and stroked a strand of hair from Holly’s jaw, tucking it behind her ear. “I have no idea what to do about you.”
That much she knew. “I suppose you could pretend that there’s no chemistry, that you got it out of your system.”
“Could we?”
“We? No.” She shook her head. “I’m not all that good at pretending anything.”
His lips quirked, but he didn’t smile. “Good thing I am then.”
Holly found herself seated next to Samantha for the game. The publicist was dressed in her usual princess-with-a-Nordstrom’s-account style, in a fitted business suit that dripped sophistication and elegance. She’d topped it off with a straw hat that had a Heat orange flower stuck in the band.
