Maggie had to struggle to keep her jaw from dropping open as Spencer stood and the lights from the spa heightened the stunning impact of the water sluicing down his upper body. And what an upper body it was—all defined muscle and wet skin. A light smattering of hair only added to the overwhelming masculinity of his body. It was too bad the water level prevented a really good look at his abdomen and that delectable treasure trail. Still, the view she did have was outstanding.
When he got close enough to touch, he placed his hands on either side of her. She itched to part her legs as his body pressed against her knees and a hot ache of longing stabbed her in the core. She took in a gasp of air. That skin-to-skin contact electrified her body, making it seem like every hair was on end, every nerve ending on alert.
“I’m sorry if this sounds insensitive, but hearing about your breakup is the best news I’ve heard all week.”
“Really? Why?”
“That means I have a chance with you.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
He gave that shiver-inducing chuckle again. This time it didn’t seem irritating. This time, it seemed positively seductive. “Do I need to say it?”
“Say what?”
“That’s not the only thing that’s—”
She gasp-laughed. “Oh my gosh, Spencer, stop it.”
He leaned in and actually nuzzled her neck. A hot wave of desire swept over her as his lips brushed against her skin. This was proof positive that he wanted her, just as Jade had said all along.
“Don’t want to stop,” he murmured.
And she didn’t want him to stop either. Not ever. She was sitting in water hot enough to poach an egg in but she was certain at this moment, her body temperature was higher. Her breath came in pants and she was too shell-shocked to do anything but let her head fall back so he could kiss any part of her neck that struck his fancy.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his fingers threading through her mop of damp hair to grip her head.
“No,” she breathed.
“Because even though it would be extremely difficult, I would. I promised myself I was going to keep my hands off you, but when you told me about the breakup…”
He took her earlobe between his lips and sucked and she couldn’t help it. A moan escaped her. She skimmed her hands over his sides, marveling at the hardness of his perfect body and the fact that she was touching him and he wasn’t laughing in her face.
“When you told me about the breakup, I didn’t see any good reason to resist.”
She could think of plenty, but she didn’t say anything. She was too busy drinking in the heady pleasure of his warm mouth on her neck, her cheeks…finally, her lips.
Never had she been kissed like this. Never had the whole world disappeared. She had always been aware of background noise, the knowledge that she had laundry to do, how hesitant/clumsy/aggressive the guy seemed to be. The list was endless and as varied as the books in the school library.
But not with Spencer. The moment his lips met hers, she was aware only of him—the gentleness of his kiss, the way his muscles shifted under hands, the wild, virile taste of him. He wiped clean all the worries and tension and replaced it with pure sensation and an awareness of how very male he was.
He kissed her for a good long while, softly and leisurely. She supposed they had all night—or at least until he had to leave for the airport. Hell, she’d gone to work with only a couple of hours of sleep before and she could do it again. But as much as she enjoyed his determination to draw things out, she began to get impatient.
In a brazen move, she parted her legs in an invitation to come closer, but the bastard refused to move. She hooked a leg around his back but he resisted even when she made a noise of frustration.
He lifted his head. “Impatient much?”
“Frankly, yes. You’re taking too long.”
He leaned back, one brow raised. “Taking too long to do what?”
“To take me to your bedroom.”
This time both brows went up. “Is that where we’re headed?”
“Unless we don’t make it that far and end up doing it on the kitchen table or something.”
He groaned. “Maggie, you’re killing me. Thinking about doing you on the kitchen table…shit. I’m breaking out in a sweat.”
“Well, we are in a giant tub of hot water.”
He laughed as he took a seat beside her and slung his arm over her shoulders. She got the feeling that the make-out session was over—that the spell was broken and she sighed. So much for one hot night with a hockey player.
“Is that it?” she asked sullenly. “Are we done?”
“Not by a long shot,” he said, turning to her and taking her mouth again in a brief but very thorough kiss that made her toes curl and her insides melt. “But I don’t want to rush this. Good things come to those who wait.”
“The saying should really be, ‘Those who wait, come,’” she said, which made him laugh again. She liked his laugh. It was brash and honest.
“Oh, we’ll come all right. But not tonight. I want to take this nice and slow.”
“Maybe you should ask me what I want? Because I vote for right now.” She pointed to the beautiful teak deck. “Maybe right there.”
He shook his head slowly again. “Miss Maggie, it’ll be all the sweeter when it really happens if we wait.”