Her Man Friday(54)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

Gee, Lily would have liked to hear an explanation for that, too. One that didn’t make her ni**les tingle, anyway.

"But what I’d like even more," he added before she had a chance to say anything, lifting his hand to her sleekly arranged hair, "is to know how long your hair is."

Without even asking permission, let alone waiting for a reply, he found and deftly removed the long clip that held her French twist in place. Lily’s hair came tumbling down past her shoulders, between her shoulder blades, to nearly the center of her back, the sleek shafts shining like blue-black satin.

"Wow," he said as he bunched a fistful in one hand. "I had no idea."

"Le—I mean, Mr. Freiberger…" she began.

But anything else she might have said dried up in her mouth, because slowly, leisurely, oh, so leisurely, he began to wrap her hair around his fist. Over and over again he turned his hand, winding her hair loosely about his fingers until they were nearly obscured by the long tresses. And all the while, his gaze remained fixed on the motion, as if he weren’t quite sure why he was doing it, or what he would do when he couldn’t wind any more around his fingers.

Then, just as she thought he would pull her forward, as quickly as he had begun the gesture, he halted it, lifting his gaze to lock with hers. "Leo," he said softly. "Call me Leo. Please."

She hesitated for a moment, not sure she could say the word aloud, not sure she could say anything out loud, because her entire body seemed to have shut down operation so that the thrill of heat winding through her would have a completely unhampered journey. He had simply been Mr. Freiberger, alleged bookkeeper for Kimball Technologies, for so long, Lily wasn’t sure she could view him as anything else.

But somehow, running her tongue lightly over her dry lips, and in a very soft voice, she managed to utter the word, "Leo."

It was, evidently, all the encouragement he needed, because after that single concession to familiarity, he angled his head to the side, tugged lightly on her hair to bring her forward, and covered her mouth with his.

And then, Lily knew he would never be Mr. Freiberger again.

It was an extraordinary kiss, unlike any she had ever received from a man before, at once questioning and commanding, tentative and absolute. Leo kissed her as if he needed her for sustenance, for strength, for life itself. He cupped his other hand over the back of her head to urge her toward him even more, and with one little step forward, Lily was in his arms.

It was, she decided immediately, a very nice place to be, and how wonderfully convenient that she fit so well. She would have thought such a large man would intimidate her, would frighten her, would swallow her in one big bite. But Leo made her feel as if she were a part of him, returning after far too long a separation. Without hesitation, she curved her palms over the planes and angles of his hard chest, relishing every soft quiver of flesh as he moved. Then she pushed her hands up over his shoulders, and looped her arms around his neck. She, too, cupped a hand over the back of his head, threading her fingers through the short, silky strands of his hair, and pulled him downward. Then she pushed herself up on tiptoe, launching herself into the kiss.

Oh, my. It was even better when she helped.

Evidently, Leo thought so too, because a soft, contented sound erupted from somewhere deep inside him. He took another tiny step forward and slanted his head to the other side, to deepen the kiss. Lily opened to him willingly, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her resolutely, thoroughly, wantonly. She heard another soft sound of satisfaction, and, not surprisingly, she realized that this time, it came from somewhere deep inside her. He just made her feel so…

Oh…

And she wanted to keep feeling that way. Forever.

"Leo," she murmured against his lips. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but instinctively, she needed to slow down some. Not a lot. Just some.

But Leo seemed not to hear her, because he only claimed her mouth again, more insistently this time. He moved the hand entangled in her hair to cup her jaw, skimming the other down to the small of her back to press her against him. Lily indulged in another kiss for some moments more, then remembered that she had been trying to say something.

She just wished she could remember what.

"Leo," she tried again, doubling her fists loosely against his chest. "Please. We have to slow down."

This time he listened to her—sort of. He released her mouth, but left his hands where they were, then dipped his forehead to rest it against hers. He closed his eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths, as if he were trying to level off his heart rate. She knew that, because it was exactly the same thing she was doing herself. For long moments, they only stood there silently, heads touching, hands exploring, trying to match their respiration and steady their pulse.

And then Leo said, "Lily."

It was the first time she had heard her name spoken in his voice, and never before had she realized what an erotic connotation her name had. Of course, had anyone else been saying it, Lily wouldn’t have sounded erotic at all. But Leo’s dark, rich baritone was a sound that reminded her of good, mellow cognac warmed in a man’s palm. And whenever she thought of a man’s palm, she thought of his. And when she thought of his palm, she thought about how it would feel on her. And in his voice, her name came out sounding like a promise full of purpose, full of longing, full of impatience.

Instead of looking at him, she fixed her gaze on the hands she had splayed open over the nubby knit of his sweater. "Yes?" she asked quietly.

"Lily, I… I want to make love to you."

So much for slowing her heart rate. "Do you?"

She sensed, more than saw, him nod. "Yes. I do. Very badly."

"How interesting," she managed to reply. "I was just thinking that I’d like to make love to you, too, Leo."

She braved a glance up at his face, only to find him smiling down at her. So she smiled, too, but for some reason, she was sure hers wasn’t nearly as confident or as certain as his was.

"Well, well, well," he said. "Great minds think alike."

She chuckled low, but it came out sounding a bit tense to her ears, and she hoped he didn’t hear how very nervous she was. "I miss you when you’re not at Ashling," she said, wondering why she should confess such a thing.

"Do you?"

She nodded. "The house feels so empty without you there."

He lifted a hand to brush the backs of his knuckles gently over her cheek, and Lily’s eyes fluttered closed so that she might better savor the sensation of his touch. Involuntarily, her lips parted a fraction, as if she couldn’t… quite… get enough air. Or something. Deep inside her a curl of heat unwound and seeped into every cell in her body, and she found herself wanting him to move his hand lower… and lower… and lower still…