LITMIR.BIZ

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do you think, McShay?” He reached across the back of the sofa. Burrowing under the blanket draped over her shoulders, he curled a palm around her nape. “Are you up for Plan B?”

      She swiped her tongue over suddenly dry lips. Her fast-disintegrating common sense shrieked at her to end this dalliance, right here, right now.

      Because that’s all it was. All it could be. She’d fallen for a stud like Cal Logan once and still had the scars to show for it. No way she was going to set herself up for another tumble.

       So don’t.

      The blunt admonition came compliments of her alter ego. The one with shivers rippling down her spine from the slow stroke of his thumb on her nape.

       Have some fun, dummy. Enjoy a mind-blowing orgasm or two. Then you and Logan can go your separate ways, no harm, no foul.

      Since every hormone in Devon’s body was screaming at her to agree, she wet her lips again.

      “I, uh, think we should start with a modified Plan B.”

      His thumb stilled. The gaze that had been locked on her mouth lifted to hers.

      “I’m listening.”

      “We conduct the experiment you suggested last night. See what happens. Take it a step at a time from there.”

      A slow grin spread across his face. Devon’s alter ego was whooping with joy even before he agreed to her proposed modification.

      “Sounds good to me.”

      His hand tightened on her nape and tugged her closer. In the flickering light of the fire, his face was like a painting by one of the old Flemish masters, all strong planes and intriguing shadows. Then Devon’s lids drifted shut, his mouth came down on hers and all thoughts of old masters, Flemish or otherwise, flew out of her head.

      This kiss was slower than yesterday’s. More deliberate. Despite that—or maybe because of it—the sensual movement of his lips over hers packed even more of a wallop. Devon angled her head to give him better access before surrendering to the urge she’d been battling since her first glimpse of the man shirtless.

      Tugging down the zipper on his ski jacket, she flattened her palms against the broad expanse of his chest. She could feel his pecs under his turtleneck, and the jackhammer beat of his heart.

      Or was that her heart pounding like a rock drummer on steroids? At this point, Devon wasn’t sure and didn’t particularly care. All she knew was that her other self almost wept when Cal broke the contact and lifted his head.

      To her profound relief, his breath came as hard and fast as hers. The hand at the back of her neck held her steady. His eyes burned into hers.

      “Well? What’s the verdict? Do we progress to the next step?”

      “Yes!”

      She flung her arms around his neck, shedding the blanket draped over her shoulders along with any and all remaining doubts.

      Cal made a sound halfway between a growl and a grunt of fierce satisfaction. His free hand tunneled under her hips. With one quick maneuver, he had her flat on her back.

      His mouth was harder now, more demanding, but Devon’s hunger matched his. She locked her arms around his neck and strained against him. Hip to hip, mouth to mouth, they explored the feel, the taste, the texture of each other.

      He didn’t ask for permission to progress to step three. Probably because Devon was already there. Fighting free of her ski jacket, she relieved him of his, then yanked up the hem of his turtleneck and silky thermal shirt. Her hands were hot and greedy as she planed them over his back and waist and the hard, taut curve of his butt.

      He wasted no time in following suit. Her lavender sweater and black silk long-john top came up and over her head with a couple of swift tugs. Her boots hit the floor next. With a speed that left her breathless, Cal peeled off her ski pants and long-john bottoms.

      His hot, hungry gaze roamed from her breasts to her belly. The flesh mounded so enticingly by her black lace demi-bra brought an appreciative growl, but the matching thong stopped him cold.

      “Were you wearing that thong under your dress when we went to dinner with the Hauptmanns?”

      “Yes.”

      “And you slept it in last night?”

      “Since I couldn’t get back in my room, I didn’t have anything else to sleep in.”

      “Good thing I didn’t know that,” he said, his voice rough, “or you wouldn’t have made it out of bed this morning.”

      That drew a husky laugh from Devon. She wasn’t any more immune to flattery than the next girl, and the expression in Cal’s eyes as they devoured her nearly naked flesh was extremely gratifying. It almost made up for the goose bumps popping out all over her skin.

      Her ensuing shiver could have been caused by the cold air. Or the liquid fire that spread through her when he got rid of his own ski pants and long johns. Or the erection that pushed against the front of his shorts.

      Her groan of dismay, however, was most definitely due to the latter. Cal’s startled look prompted another groan from her, this one of embarrassment.

      “I didn’t mean…It’s not you…Well, it is but…” As flustered now as she was aroused, she blurted out the problem. “Oh, hell! I don’t have a condom. I hope you do.”

      “No, I don’t.” His lips twisted in a rueful grin. “I don’t usually pack a supply for short business trips.”

      Unlike her ex, Devon couldn’t help remembering. Blake had never left home without an emergency stash.

      “I could make a quick trip down to the lobby,” Cal commented. “Or…”

      “Or what?”

      The wicked glint returned. “We could improvise.”

      Devon’s pulse stuttered and skipped. Oooh, boy! She was asking for trouble if the mere thought of taking him in her mouth could turn her on and her common sense off.

      “You want to improvise first?” Her voice husky, she rose up on her knees and pressed her palm against his rock-hard erection. “Or shall I?”

      His breath hissed out. That was all the answer she needed.

      “Me,” she murmured, sliding her hand inside his shorts. “I’ll go first.”

      With a small grunt, he reached for the blanket, whipped it around them both and followed her back down onto the sofa cushions.

      They were cocooned in darkness and a heat fueled by desire. Devon used her hands and teeth and tongue, licking him, teasing him, driving him almost to the brink.

      His salty taste was on her lips when she felt his body go taut. The engorged shaft in her hand seemed to pulse and swell even more. She bent her head, intending to finish what she’d started. Cal stopped her by the simple expedient of pulling free of her hold.

      “Not yet,” he rasped. “Not until I have my turn.”

      With the blanket still tented around them, he rolled her onto her back and inched downward. Slowly. As Devon had moments ago—or was it hours?—he used his hand and teeth and tongue on her eager flesh. Her nipples ached when he finished with them. Her belly quivered under his nipping kisses.

      Then he spread her legs and found her hot, wet center. Once again he moved slowly. So slowly. His tongue rasped her sensitive flesh. His fingers worked sensual magic. Soon waves of exquisite sensation streaked through every part of Devon’s body.

      She could feel the climax coming. She tried to delay it, fought to contain the spiraling tension. She might as well have tried to contain the snow and sleet that had stranded them. Despite her determined efforts, her vaginal muscles coiled tight, then tighter still. Her head went back. A groan ripped

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