Page 39 of Art of Love

She thought a moment. “First step, since I have your full cooperation, is for you to answer more questions.”

He nodded and rolled his shoulders. “Okay, I’m ready.”

She shifted and sighed. “I’m not. To be honest, it’s been a very long day.” She glanced at her clock and winced at the late hour.

He did the same and sighed. “I have a meeting with my producer, James, and my PR manager, Tony, in the morning.” He groaned. “Will late afternoon tomorrow work for you?”

“Yes.” She nodded, not wanting to tell him that her schedule was wide open. Hell, the only reason she was in Pride was to get close to him.

When he stood up, she followed and was surprised when he started carrying their empty dishes back into the kitchen.

“I’ve got this,” she said when he turned on the sink water. He glanced over his shoulder at her and her heart skipped several beats.

“One thing that my mother taught me that stuck was to always clean up when someone else does the cooking.” He motioned beside him. “You can dry.”

While they worked on the dishes together, they talked about his music. She was pretty sure he had hit a wall with talking about Kara and that night she died. There had been moments after her father’s death that she hadn’t wanted to talk about it or her feelings either. That was one of the reasons she’d hightailed it out of Pride quickly after the services.

When the last dish was dry and had been put away, she handed him the towel to dry his hands. Instead of taking it, he stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her.

“I don’t want you to think that I only came here for… answers.” His hands moved to her hips while his eyes landed on her lips. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you again.”

She felt her knees almost buckle. If he hadn’t been holding her, she might have just melted to the floor. God, why did he smell so sexy? He should smell like dish soap. Instead, there was a deep musky scent that surrounded him like a hug, and she wanted to be engulfed in it.

“Why think much longer?” she whispered, unwilling or unable to trust her own voice.

When his head bent down and his lips brushed hers, she melted against him. He tasted better than he smelled. The feel of his hard chest against her had her heart beat tripling.

When his tongue dipped in and trailed against hers, a soft moan started in her chest and escaped as he cupped her head so he could tilt it slightly.

She was putty in his hands. At that moment, she would have done anything to keep him from leaving.

He moved slowly, almost as if she were dessert and he was lapping her up and enjoying every lick. God, just the thought of him doing what he was doing to her mouth to the rest of her body had everything vibrating for him.

“Dylan,” he sighed against her mouth. “I want to stay…”

“Stay,” she begged, without giving him a heartbeat to decide. Her fingernails dug into his arms, wishing to hold him closer.

His eyes met hers and she could see that he wouldn’t. Not yet. She guessed he wouldn’t until she found some answers. Anything.

Her heart slammed back down to reality and she took a step back, missing the feeling of him and the taste of him so much she swayed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said and, without saying goodbye, he walked out of her house, leaving her body wanting more than it ever had for that sweetest release.

Damn him.