How to Trap a Tycoon(50)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

Funny that she would feel modest after some of the things the two of them had done to and with each other over the last several hours. She certainly hadn’t been shy during the night, she recalled now, the heat of her memories warming her entire body. Of course, neither had Adam. Then again, she thought further, when she noted the way his pajama bottoms were tied so haphazardly—and so low—on his hips, he didn’t seem to be feeling particularly modest himself at the moment. On the contrary, if that sly little smile playing about his lips was any indication, he had every intention of—

Oh, my . She might never leave this bed again.

"Good morning yourself," he replied, his voice a rich rumble of contentment as he set the breakfast tray on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed. "I thought you were going to sleep the whole day away."

A momentary panic shook Dorsey as she searched frantically for a clock and found none.

"It’s not even nine-thirty," Adam told her, chuckling. "What’s wrong? You got a hot date somewhere I should know about?"

Although he seemed to be striving for levity, something in his voice held an undertone of uncertainty, as if he feared she might very well have another romantic obligation this morning. Goodness, could he possibly be feeling jealous? Feeling possessive? she wondered as a curl of something warm and fuzzy slowly unwound inside her. And why did the prospect of such a possibility make her feel so wonderfully delicious? The absolutely last thing on earth she wanted was to be possessed by a man. Wasn’t it? Of course it was. Then again, she was feeling a bit possessive about Adam this morning, too.

Oh, dear. This was certain to wreak havoc on her dissertation.

"I have to be someplace this afternoon," she told him, nudging the thoughts aside for now and forcing herself to relax. "But not until three." Impulsively, she added, "I’m yours until then."

The smile he bestowed upon her in return was one of the greatest prizes Dorsey had ever won. Without further comment, he poured her a cup of coffee and brought it around to her side of the bed, setting it on the nightstand within easy reach. She mumbled her thanks but didn’t pick it up right away. She was having too much fun feeling sleepy and disoriented and wanton, and she didn’t want her wits about her just yet.

Adam, too, neglected the cup he had poured for himself, leaving it on the tray near where he had tossed the newspaper. "I should warn you," he told her without preamble, "that although I’m not a churchgoing man, I do have a rigid Sunday morning ritual that I religiously observe."

"Oh?" she asked innocently.

"I stay in bed until noon , reading every last word of the Tribune."

She smiled. "Even Broom Hilda?"

"Yep."

"Wow. That’s impressive. And you don’t mind if I’m here to intrude?" she asked. "I won’t be a distraction to you?"

"Oh, I’m counting on it," he assured her. Ignoring the newspaper, he climbed into bed and prowled like a predator toward her, then seated himself, cross-legged upon the mattress, before her. For a moment, he said nothing, only studied her with much interest, as if he were trying to decide exactly what to say. Then, suddenly, he grinned. A slow, sexy, dangerous little grin that ignited a spark of heat deep inside her.

And in a low, level voice, he said, "Should I tell you how good it felt to wake up this morning and find you in my bed?"

Dorsey’s lips parted softly in surprise that he would reveal such a thing so freely. No, don’t, she thought. Don’t tell me anything that will make me care for you more than I do already.

"Should I tell you how sweet you smell and how soft you are?" he added.

No, don’t. Please don’t.

"Should I tell you how easy you are to hold? How long it’s been since I’ve wanted a woman as much as I want you?"

No, don’t…

"Should I tell you how incredible last night was?"

Oh, Adam…

He seemed to sense her distress, because his smile fell some as he asked further, "Or would telling you all that be revealing too much, too soon?"

Dorsey’s languid pulse had begun to vibrate like a kettledrum with every soft, seductive word he spoke. Surely he wasn’t serious about all that, she thought. Surely he was only saying these things to her now because he was still under the influence of the warm, rosy afterglow that came on the heels of lovemaking. Surely he wasn’t telling her what he seemed to be telling her. Surely last night had been no more important to him than any of his other sexual conquests had been.

Then again, he was looking a little conquered himself at the moment, she thought. She never would have guessed that Adam Darien was the kind of man who would bring a woman breakfast and roses in bed.

She swallowed hard. "Uh, no," she said with some difficulty. "Um, that’s, uh … that’s fine. You can say that."

His smile returned, confident, affectionate, and very, very sexy. "Then should I tell you how often I’d like to wake up that same way?" he asked further. "Or would it scare you off if you knew just how badly I want you?"

Had she thought her pulse was rapid before? Heavens, she’d had no idea her blood could rush so fiercely through her body without making her unconscious. Then again, she was beginning to feel a little dizzy.

"I, uh…" she stammered, "I—I don’t know. Would it?"

His smile turned a little sad as he considered his answer. "Yeah," he finally said softly. "It probably would. So I don’t think I’ll tell you that part. Not yet, anyway."

She felt strangely disappointed that he didn’t, then told herself not to be. If his intentions would scare her, then she didn’t need to hear them. She was much too frightened of what lay ahead as it was.

Adam seemed to sense her misgivings, because he stretched out alongside her, propping himself up on one elbow, cradling his head in his palm. For a moment, he only gazed at her, as if he were trying to imprint her appearance on some part of his brain so that he would never forget this moment. Then he lifted his other hand and twined a single auburn curl around his forefinger.

"I’m glad you stayed last night," he said simply.

She hesitated only briefly before assuring him, "I’m glad I did, too."

He unwound the curl from his finger and then brushed his bent knuckles lightly along her jawline. "We should do it again sometime," he told her.

Dorsey let out a shallow breath before asking, "Should we?"

He nodded, then skimmed his fingertips across her lower lip. "Mm-hm. Soon."

His tender touches, so seemingly innocent, so utterly arousing, made it impossible for her to think clearly. "I … okay," she capitulated easily.