And she almost did it. But he was still watching her with that odd light in his eyes, and she felt confused and turned around and wonderfully out of her depth. Forcing herself to ignore her baser instincts—the ones screaming at her to go for it—she cleared her throat. “This is starting to turn me on.”

There was a brief flare of surprise in his eyes, then his smile turned sharp. Her breath caught in her throat and her pulse pounded harder. “Well,” he murmured, and dipped his head so his nose brushed against the curve of her jaw. “That’s interesting.”

“It is?” she managed in a squeak, shivering in his hold as he dragged his jaw down her neck. His whiskers were faintly abrasive against her tender skin, waking up the nerves and making them sing.

“I’m certainly interested,” he purred, his lips barely brushing her throat.

Her eyes felt heavy, so she let them drift shut. “Oh. Good.”

“Like that, do you?” His lips moved to her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

She’d have sworn her limbs had gone boneless. “Yes.”

“And you?” His teeth skimmed her earlobe, clacking gently against the small gold stud she wore. “Are you interested?”

She felt like she could melt into a puddle, right there in his lap. “In what?”

His low chuckle vibrated in her ear. “If you have to ask, I must be doing this wrong.”

“Oh.” She angled her head, arching her neck to bare it to his lips. “That.”

“That,” he agreed, and ran his tongue from her jaw to her collarbone.

“I’ve always been interested in that,” she confessed, and he went still under her.

“Always?” he asked, lifting his head, and she forced her eyes open to look into his face.

“Always,” she repeated, fighting the urge to squirm. His brown eyes, so soft and lazily aroused only moments ago, had narrowed sharply. She felt like a bug on a board, exposed and vulnerable.

God, it was so hot.

“You’ve been keeping secrets,” he accused, anticipation and menace deepening his voice, and she shivered again.

“Everyone keeps secrets.”

“True enough.” He put his mouth to her ear again. “I want yours.”

“Okay,” she said breathlessly, more than agreeable, and his answering laugh made her shiver again.

“But first things first.” He straightened, bringing her with him, and his grip on her wrists gentled. “We should talk.”

She blinked, confused. “Talk?”

“Before this goes any further.” He lifted one eyebrow in question. “Don’t you think?”

“Right. Sure. Talking is smart.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, and nudged her off his lap to stand next to his chair.

She wanted to crawl right back in. “When should we do that?”

He rose to his feet, so close she could see the damp hollow of his throat, and the pulse that fluttered there. “How about tomorrow afternoon?”