“Absolutely.” The elevator stopped on his floor, and Miranda took his hands and walked backward, drawing him out with a sexy little smile. “After. When we take a break to breathe.”
She took the key card from his hand. “Which way?”
“Right. Room seven thirty.”
She pulled him toward the room and opened the door. When she passed through, Jack had another I-can’t-believe-I’m-doing-this moments.
Only when Miranda fisted the front of his shirt and pulled him in behind her did he realize he’d hesitated.
“You think way too much.”
In th
e foyer of the suite, she flipped on the lights. A soft glow brightened the space. She released his shirt and let out a low whistle. Jack saw the space through her eyes—the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over Nashville, an open fire element at the center of the living room with a stainless-steel hood above, a sleek kitchen off to the left.
“Someone likes comfort.” Standing in the middle of the room, she made a slow circle, pausing when she faced Jack again. She shrugged her jacket off her shoulders, let it slide down her arms and drop to the floor. “Let’s get that intelligent mind of yours in full cooperation with your body.”
Miranda crossed her arms, pulled her tank off over her head, and dropped it on top of her jacket.
Jack’s pulse doubled. Her breasts were wrangled into a lacy bra, her waist slim, her stomach flat and exposed two full inches below her belly button. His hands clenched. Mouth went dry.
The tattoo on her upper right chest was a dandelion blowing in the wind, several fronds floating away. Whimsical, and somehow not what he’d expected. Maybe she was a closet romantic too.
Miranda’s hands dropped to her belt, a sparkly, cowgirl-type belt with a fancy silver buckle. The simple movement of watching her unfasten that buckle shot lust straight between his legs.
All the confidence he’d thought he had in the bedroom suddenly escaped him. He was messing with his own head. This was sex, not rocket science. Yet he felt paralyzed.
She took his hand and wandered toward a short hallway, used the other hand to pop the button of her jeans, and slid the zipper down. “I assume the bedroom is this way.”
He tossed his own jacket over the back of a chair, his mind darting, body aching. He couldn’t think clearly. Should he finish undressing her? Or should he focus on getting his own clothes off? Would it be better to be aggressive or let her take the lead, something she was obviously comfortable with?
She moved differently than she had in the bar. There, she was all energy and efficiency. Here, she was slower, more contemplative. And there was a sexy little slink in her step.
In the bedroom, she paused beside a dresser, pressed her fingertips to the edge, and bent to pull off one boot, one sock. Then the other. Her stomach muscles tightened and released beneath her skin.
Jack leaned against the doorjamb, watching. Everything about her mesmerized him—the way she moved, her self-possession, the comfort with which she uncovered her body, the obvious confidence with her sexuality. “You’re so fucking together.”
“I don’t know about that. But I know what I want when I see it.”
She shimmied her jeans over her hips, then let them fall and kicked them off carelessly.
His heart actually stopped for two full beats. The woman had curves and muscle he hadn’t expected.
She sauntered past him to look through the open archway into the bath. “Good Lord, this is the size of my living room.”
Jack would have laughed, but his gaze was sliding over her backside. The soft indentation of her spine. The flare of her hips. The long, toned thighs. And one freaking gorgeous ass.
“Jack?”
He’d missed something she’d said. “What?”
She grinned, stepped into the bathroom, and opened the shower door. “I hope you’re thinking about what you’re going to do to me tonight and not on your worries. Do you mind if I shower?”
He didn’t understand the question. All his blood had settled well to the south.
The water turned on, breaking his trance. He found Miranda walking toward him with that lithe, lazy stroll. When she reached him, she slid her arms around his waist, pressed that luscious body against him, and looked into his eyes.
“Oh yeah.” She rocked her hips against his erection. “Much better train of thought.”