The simplicity of the gesture stunned her into passivity.
She held still as he lifted his head and stared down at her.
She blinked, not moving, as he continued to stand there, his hand on her chest. “I want five minutes of your time . . . over a cup of coffee. An hour for lunch. I want you to pick up the phone when I call, talk with me for a while,” he said, staring into her eyes while the blue green of his gaze cut into her.
Then he leaned in and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her chest, just above the neckline of her sweater. “I want to peel your clothes away, learn each and every one of these insanely sexy tattoos . . .and the reason behind them. I want to know what makes you laugh, and I want to know what makes you mad. I want to know what sort of book you’re reading whenever I’m in the office—I’ve asked, but you always toss it down when I walk by and you never answer me.”
His breath was a caress on her flesh and she broke out into goose bumps.
Her heart raced and she couldn’t even begin to understand why there was a knot in her chest.
Then he lifted his head and caught her skull between his hands, leaning in to lightly brush his lips over hers. “You see, Keelie . . . I want a lot more than a quick fuck from you. But every time I try to get even five minutes of your time,” he murmured, each word low and raw. “You pull away. The one time you actually did talk to me? That was three months ago. At the wedding. You gave me five minutes and then I put my hands on you and since then, you’ve run even harder, even faster. So maybe you can understand why I’m a little leery about just what is going on here.”
Quick as a wish, he was gone, standing five feet away, and she slumped against the wall, her knees weak as she stared at him.
Her heart lurched, lunged inside her chest, and the voice of common sense told her one very simple message.
Time to go.
Except everything else compelled her to stay.