Her heart pounded in her chest, issuing a frantic warning: Turn back now! This is a mistake!
Nevertheless, she kept her hands firmly clasped in front of her, speaking partly to calm her fears and partly to dissuade him. “The thing about you, Connor, is you think you’re going to get my attention by being shocking, but the truth is I’ve met men like you before.”
“I doubt that.”
“I know your type,” she told him as they walked. “You’ve decided I’m a challenge. A prize to be won. You probably have some fishing or hunting metaphor you’re using.” She slanted a look at him from under her lashes, trying to gauge how close she was to hitting the mark, but he kept his expression carefully blank. A sure sign she was right. Dang it. She didn’t want to be right about this. Some tiny—stupid—part of her wanted him to deny it. When he didn’t, she continued. “But I’m not worried. You’ll lose interest as soon as you realize I’m not going to be easy to bag. Or whatever metaphor is suitable.”
He stopped walking, forcing her to stop as well. She turned back to face him, only to find him studying her with that disconcerting intensity. His gaze felt heavy with appreciation. But unlike most men who gave her body heated glances, he was looking into her eyes. As if it were her thoughts that interested him, not her curves.
“I think,” he stated baldly, “that you underestimate my endurance and my creativity.”
And there it was again. That innuendo that sent tendrils of heat pulsing through her body. The man was too tempting by a mile. She could only pray that she wasn’t underestimating him. If he was half as creative as he claimed, she was in serious trouble. Who was she kidding? She’d been in serious trouble from the moment they’d met.
Which was why she had to nip this in the bud. He made her want to give in to temptation. And that simply wasn’t something she could afford to do. If her assessment of his motives was dead on—and she’d bet it was—then she was nothing more than a challenge to him. Something to accomplish. She wasn’t willing to bargain away her morals for that, no matter how pleasurable the experience might be.
Intellectually, she knew that. It was her body she was having trouble convincing.
Which was why she couldn’t risk having him pursue her for very long. What if her hormones overran her otherwise very logical mind? This had to stop. Unfortunately, the only way she could think of to deter him was with brutal honesty.
“Maybe I have underestimated you,” she began, “but you have definitely underestimated me. My ideas about abstinence aren’t something I came up with on a whim. I’m not a virginal teenage girl who’s made a well-meaning but misguided pledge. I’m an adult woman. I know what I’m talking about.”
His hands were tucked in his pockets. The heated look he gave her seemed to see into her very soul. In that instant, she could have sworn he could read her mind.
“And what exactly are your views about sex?”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “You said you read the article.”
“Maybe I want to hear them straight from you.”
“Or maybe you just want to hear me talk about sex.”
His lips twitched. “Can you blame me?”
She sighed, trying not to let her exasperation get the better of her. Unless she got this out on the table, he’d never believe she really meant it. Maybe she’d even forget that she really meant it.
They’d wandered far enough from the field that they were truly alone. She had orchestrated this very situation, getting him alone so that she could be blunt without being overheard.
Plus, she figured there was a good chance her honesty would be a turnoff for him. That was certainly the case with the last man she’d dated seriously. Phillip Gould, a young congressman from Virginia—who’d been her father’s protégé, in addition to being her boyfriend. Their relationship had ended badly. She wouldn’t tolerate his cheating and—it turned out—he couldn’t tolerate hardly anything about her. It seemed their mutual desire to impress her father had been all that they had in common.
During their last big fight, Philip had called her tedious and a bore. Dull. Of course those men she’d dated since that blasted profile had found her opinions equally tedious. Maybe Connor would agree. Which would be a good thing. Right?
Yet now that it came down to it, she found herself reluctant to speak her views aloud. Which was odd because she’d never felt that way in the past. Or maybe she’d simply never before been in the position of talking about sex with someone to whom she was attracted.
“It’s simple.” Her words came in fits and starts. “I think women today sell themselves short. Real relationships take work, and a commitment from both the man and the woman. One-night stands are easy. But they’re less enjoyable.”
“I think that depends on who you have the one-night stand with.”
“Well, sure, if you’re a man,” she countered. “A man can enjoy sex with anyone. It’s more complicated for a woman.”
“That’s an oversimplification.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Her words came more quickly as she warmed to her subject. “For a man, pleasure is straightforward. Orgasms are easy. It’s not like that for a woman. Unless you’re both emotionally involved, it’s too easy for a man to take his pleasure and ignore a woman’s needs. One-night stands aren’t fulfilling, emotionally or physically.”
“And you’re speaking from experience?”
“I’m right,” she said finally. “I know I’m right.”
“How could you possibly know you’re right when your theories have never been tested?”
“I’m not a complete innocent. I do have experience with men.”
“So I suppose there are legions of men who weren’t able to satisfy you.”
She tried to glare at him despite her amusement. “You make me sound like a tramp on a warpath to punish men because they couldn’t make me climax. Sex is more complicated than that.”
“Was it legions or wasn’t it?” he prodded, his tone gently teasing. “You can’t be experienced and innocent. You can’t have it both ways.”
In that moment, under the heat of his steady gaze, she remembered a crucial detail. This wasn’t a philosophical discussion. It wasn’t a discussion at all. It was a seduction. And she was no longer holding her own against him.
“I have experience,” she insisted. “Enough to know that I’m right.”
“Okay, then,” he agreed way too easily. “I’m sure you’re right.” Connor paused strategically, slanting her a look. “Just out of curiosity, who were these men?”
She scoffed, but trepidation was creeping behind her bravado. “You know I’m not going to answer that.”
“Why not? It’s only fair. You’re shooting me down without giving me a chance because of some mysterious men in your past whom you found disappointing. If I’m going to be judged based on their bad performances, I should at least know who they are.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She had such trouble reading him: was he just an arrogant jerk trying to get into her pants or was he just teasing her? She couldn’t tell.
They’d reached the line of trees that ran along the edge of the property from the dairy barn to the main house. The soft whispering of the breeze through the willows and oaks almost drowned out the faint murmur of the crowd in the distance. A few more steps and the barn would block their view of the polo field.
Her heart rate picked up, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the urge to run or the desire twirling through her belly.
She was about to flee toward the field when he snagged her hand and pulled her to a stop.
“Come on, I should know their names, these guys who are so bad in bed they’ve ruined you for other men.”
“I never said—”
“What if one of them is dating my sister?”
She gave her hand a light tug, but he didn’t release it. His palm felt warm against hers, and she didn’t have the heart to wrest it from his. She smiled, bemused
by her own reaction and by him. “Do you even have a sister?”
“Not the point.” As he spoke, he started walking toward the barn, her hand neatly tucked in his. “It could be someone I know. Unless you give me some names, I won’t know whom to trust. What if it’s my best friend?”
This time she laughed out loud. “I seriously doubt that you’re best friends with my prom date.”
He stopped in his tracks. “Your prom date?” His face registered exaggerated surprise. “We’re talking about your prom date here? We’ve gone from legions of men who’ve disappointed you in bed to a single, overeager teenage boy?”
From another man, the teasing might have offended her, but he did it in such a gentle way, she found herself laughing at her own foibles. “I never said legions. That was your word.”
“But he was a teenager. You’re assuming you know how I’m going to be in bed based on the experience of one boy?”
“It wasn’t just one boy.”
“I can’t help but notice you emphasized ‘one’ in that sentence, not ‘boy.’ Which means we’re still talking about boys here.”
She felt the trap he’d been setting begin to close around her, finally giving her the strength to tug her hand free and walk away from him. “So?” she asked.
“Back when you were a kid, you had a couple of tumbles with teenagers and they couldn’t satisfy you. So you developed this harebrained theory of yours.”
“It’s not a harebrained theory.” Is it?
“It’s not a statistically valid one.”
She turned to face him. She didn’t want to mention Phillip, who had not been a teenage boy at all but a full-grown man. In that case, she hadn’t been the only one dissatisfied, so it hardly seemed part of the argument.
“What’s your point?”
“My point is, you’re not being fair.” Before she could protest, he continued. “You’re not being logical either. You’ve based all your assumptions about one-night stands on your experience with teenage boys.”
“So?” she prodded again.
He chuckled gently. With two quick steps he had her backed up against the wall of the barn. He braced a hand by her shoulder and leaned toward her. In the dappled light streaming down through the trees, his expression was hungry. Predatory, but not cruel.
“Teenage boys,” he said, “have no self-control and very little experience. Which means they don’t know what they’re doing.”
His words left no doubt. He would know what he was doing. With Connor, there would be no awkward fumbling. No mumbled apologies. There would be only pleasure. Her whole body shuddered, and she had to bite down on her lip to hide it.
“If you really want to be fair, you have to test your theories. Not with a boy. With a man.”
Her gaze met his. She knew what was going through his mind as clearly as if his imagination was projecting onto a movie screen behind him. He was picturing them in bed together. His body moving over hers. Into hers.
She sucked in a deep breath. “So what do you suggest? That I sleep with you, just so you can prove your point?” She tried to scoff, but her words came out too high-pitched.
He studied her face carefully. She had the impression he was trying to decide if she was the kind of woman who would back down from a challenge. “You can walk away from me right now. Maybe I’ll even just let you go. Or maybe you’re right and I’ll get bored and stop pursuing you eventually. But the truth is, if that does happen, then all you’ll have gained is the knowledge that you were more stubborn. Not that you were right.”
“You’re still suggesting I sleep with you just so you can prove your point.”
He ran his hand up her arm. “No, I’m suggesting you just give me a chance. A single kiss. That’s all I’m asking.” He moved his thumb from the top of her arm to the underside, tracing a circle along the tender skin there. “You stop me whenever you want. If I’m wrong, you’ll be completely unaffected by our kiss.”
Her gaze skittered back to his. Her chest was rising and falling in short staccato bursts. Had he noticed? Did he know how aroused she was when he’d barely even touched her? “And if you’re right?”
“All I’m asking is that you give me a try. One kiss. What harm can I do with just one kiss?”
She tilted her head to the side, considering her options. “Why is one kiss so important to you?”
“Why are you working so hard to avoid giving me one? What are you afraid will happen if you give in?”
She couldn’t afford to be honest with him. I’m afraid I’ll lose control completely. I’m afraid I’ll have no restraint.
“Just one kiss?” she asked.
“I’ll stop the moment you ask me to,” he said evasively.
“Do you promise?”
“Absolutely.”
Three
Connor knew he could afford to promise, because he knew she wouldn’t ask him to stop.
He considered her for a moment. Between her wide-brimmed hat and oversized sunglasses, she had more body armor than a warrior about to go into battle. Without even touching her skin, he gave the end of her scarf a long, slow tug. When the knot released, he gently removed her hat. Of course, then he was stuck holding the ridiculous thing. Luckily, a tree branch hung nearby and he dangled it from the end. As for her glasses, he raised them to the top of her head.
When he looked at her again, he smiled. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest rising and failing rapidly. She was in expert hands now and she knew it.
He stood perfectly still, one hand on her arm, the other on the wall beside her, waiting for her to give the go-ahead before pulling her into his arms. She moved before he had a chance to, rising on her toes and pressing her chest against his. He barely noticed her bag dropping to the ground. Her hands burrowed into his hair, angling his head to meet her lips.
Everything about the kiss surprised him, from the way she took full command to the scorching heat of her mouth.
After all her talk of propriety and abstinence, he expected timidity. He thought that he’d have to be the aggressor, that he’d have to gently tease a response out of her. Instead, it was the opposite. Her kiss was bold, if a bit clumsy. Completely enchanting.
Her hands clung to him as her tongue traced the crease of his lips. She didn’t have to ask twice. He opened his mouth to her, nearly shuddering with desire when her tongue darted into his mouth, eager and fast, like a ravenous hummingbird. He realized then how quickly this could get out of hand. She had it in her to dominate her lover completely. An inexperienced man might mistake her natural enthusiasm for arousal. Or worse, be so turned on that he couldn’t wait for her. If she’d been like this at eighteen, no wonder the poor guys hadn’t lasted.
He moved his own hands to the sides of her face and pulled his mouth from hers. She tried to follow him, rising higher onto her to toes. He nudged her down with his hands on her shoulders, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Slow down. It’s not a race.”
She pulled back, blinking as if dazed. He knew how she felt.
“Give me a second and then let’s try this again.” He sucked in a deep breath. The smell of her flooded his senses, sweet and somehow homey, with just a hint of citrus. Like lemon cookies. His favorite.
When he heard her breath slow down, he lowered his mouth back to hers, taking control, coaxing her mouth open, moving his tongue against hers in slow, sensuous strokes. Her body relaxed against his and he set about seducing her with his kiss. He’d promised her he’d stop the minute she asked, and he would. He just had to make sure she didn’t ask. He wouldn’t push her for more than she was willing to give. No, if there was going beyond a single kiss, she’d have to take it there.
And she did. Sooner than he thought, her hands were moving down his chest, tugging the hem of his shirt free from his pants. He sucked in a breath as her palm reached the bare skin of his abdomen. Her fingers were cool, her touch light and fluttering.
He might not have intended to push h
er, but turnabout was fair play. She was dressed in a simple wraparound dress, which made it all too easy to slip his hand into her bodice. All he wanted was to touch her bare skin, but she misinterpreted his actions and moved his hand to the tie at her waist. With a single tug of her fingers, her dress fell open. His surprise nearly knocked him off his feet. They were alone, but they were still outside.
He glanced down. The sight of her sent desire rocketing through him. The way the fabric of her dress fell across the sides of her body, the way her hot-pink bra encased the pale, creamy skin of her breasts. And, my God, that bra.
Because she dressed so conservatively, he’d thought he might have to brave a fortress of starchy white nylon to reach her skin. Instead, she’d shocked him with scanty silk and lace. It was a fantasy come to life. A miracle of engineering in fuchsia. He really could write a sonnet about the things that bra did.
What the hell was the Last Good Girl in America doing wearing a bra and panties like that?
Somehow the combination of hot-pink silk and her naked flesh in the dappled light was almost too much. She was too perfect, with the bright afternoon sun filtering down through the leaves of the tree, making her bare skin glimmer. He wanted to drop to his knees and worship her.
This was not how it was supposed to happen. He’d planned on seducing her. Pushing her to her limits. Not the other way around. That’s when it hit him. He was in serious trouble. And he didn’t even give a damn.
Watching the desire flicker across Connor’s face, a surge of pure feminine power shot through Brittney.
She’d always known men found her attractive. A body like hers was designed to bring men to their knees. She knew that in the same way she understood foreign trade agreements—dispassionately. As if it were unrelated to her personally. It was like owning a chain saw but never choosing to use it. Why would she? She didn’t need to chop down any trees.
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