AFTERSHOCK Read online

  She lay sprawled and gorgeous, a feast for his eyes. While he nibbled at her neck, his fingers found a velvety nipple that quickly responded to his touch. "Mmmm. You taste better than breakfast."

  Her eyes closed again, her head fell back. Her breath came in little pants, quickening when he switched to her other breast. He took his time there, as well, and skimmed a hand down her belly and lower. Finding her deliciously hot, and so wet he moaned, he sank a finger into her. He played in and out of that slippery heat, his eyes crossing with lust when she clamped her legs around his hand, holding him to her.

  "I'm not going anywhere," he promised, kissing her lips, her jaw, her ear. He took the sensitive lobe into his mouth and bit gently as his fingers danced over her.

  She arched up into his palm, whimpering every time he withdrew. "Yeah," he whispered. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

  "Dax?"

  "I'm right here, Amber. Always."

  Her eyes flew open again. "Dax?"

  Hadn't they already established that? "Still me." He rose up on an elbow to study her. "Amber, are you awake?"

  Again that slow blink. "I had this dream that we…" She licked her lips. "I guess it wasn't a dream."

  She was adorable, he decided, slowly shaking his head. And most definitely not a morning person. "Not a dream."

  She groaned.

  "Regrets?"

  "I don't feel comfortable with this type of a relationship."

  "You felt comfortable enough during the night," he pointed out. "Three times, in fact."

  She blushed and looked away. "Five," she muttered.

  "Well then…" He grinned. "Why don't we go for an even dozen?" But when he leaned close with wicked intent, she put a hand to his chest.

  He sighed and sat up. She had the entire sheet—who knew what had happened to the rest of the bedding—which left him stark naked, but he didn't care. "You still have a problem with us."

  She darted him a glance. "When you say 'us' like that, it makes me nervous."

  "Join the club."

  "You don't look nervous, you look…" She paused, and in an unusually revealing gesture of vulnerability, she bit her lower lip. "You look hungry. As if you could eat me up for breakfast."

  "In one bite."

  "We're very different," she said softly. "I need time to think."

  "No, you need time to control your emotions. To distance yourself from me. It really scares me how easily you can do that."

  "And it scares me how much of me you see, how much you understand."

  "Yeah, I understand you. Maybe someday you'll understand me back."

  Eyes stricken, she opened her mouth, but Taylor chose that moment to cry out.

  "She's my alarm clock," Amber said with a shaky laugh. She still held the sheet to her chin, and somehow managed to get out of the bed and keep herself covered. "She'll need to be changed and fed. I'm sorry, Dax."

  It was beyond him how she could look as ravaged and luscious as she did, yet so prim and proper at the same time. The heady combination threatened his sanity. "I'm sorry, too."

  * * *

  Amber sat in the little café across the street from her office, contemplating her day. It could have been a better one.

  Yesterday she'd lost a deal when a client had backed out of a sale at the last moment. Harried over that and the ensuing chaos, she'd forgotten to pick up her dry-cleaning, which had left her with nothing to wear but her now slightly too small red suit.

  Despite the unseasonably warm weather, she'd been forced to keep the jacket on all day, which only emphasized her new cleavage. But at least it hid the indecently tight blouse and skirt.

  The client she'd seen that morning had certainly appreciated her problem. It had taken most of their meeting to assure him she didn't combine business and pleasure.

  In hopes of improving her mood, she sat with a bowl of frozen yogurt. At least she was finally cooling off. The pleasant buzz of people around lulled her. She took a huge bite filled with delicious strawberries and leaned back with a sigh as it melted down her parched throat.

  "The way you eat that looks positively sinful."

  Dax bent over her, his mouth close to her ear, so that the low, sexy timbre sent shivers racing down her spine. "Did you know you've got every male customer in this place hard as a rock, just from watching you enjoy that thing?"

  "Where's Taylor?" she asked, pleased her voice sounded so steady. She wasn't about to let him know he'd made her bones dissolve.

  "Mom's spoiling her for us."

  Mom's spoiling her for us. So intimate. As if Amber herself was also a part of his family.

  Dax helped himself to the seat next to her, leaned back and made himself at home. Faded denim snugged his long, powerful legs, though she had no idea why she noticed. His T-shirt invited her to Fear Nothing. "I take it you're off-duty."

  He grinned. "Yep. I'm going to take Taylor for a picnic. Want to come?"

  "You're taking a baby on a picnic? She'll eat the ants and get itchy from the grass and—"

  "Amber." He laughed. "I want to take you on a picnic. I'm shamelessly using our daughter as an excuse."

  "Oh." Another huge bite of frozen yogurt helped her stall, but she stopped when she realized Dax's gaze was riveted to her mouth. His body seemed tense, his muscles tight beneath his shirt. And oh Lord, she'd have to be totally naive to miss the bulge behind the button fly of his Levi's.

  "Take some mercy on me, Amber," he said with a groan. "Either stop eating that thing as though you were in the throes of an orgasm or toss it. You're killing me."

  "Hmm."

  "Was that an apology?"

  "I refuse to apologize because you can't keep your mind out of your pants." Gathering her briefcase, purse and yogurt—she wasn't about to give that up for him!—she rose. "I'm going back to work."

  "Amber. Come on, wait up—"

  When she kept going, she heard him swear behind her, heard the scrape of his chair as he came to his feet.

  She moved faster.

  They didn't speak as she practically ran across the street and into her building, but when she entered her office and tried to shut the door behind her, she was stymied by a one-hundred-and-eighty pound block wall.

  Half in, half out, with the door nearly cutting off his nose, he grinned down at her. "You're nuts about me, I can tell."

  She groaned and backed away from the door. "I'm only letting you in because I can't stand the sight of blood. That, and my secretary, Nancy, is watching." She plopped into her chair and glared at him.

  He shut the door behind him, then set a lean hip on the corner of her desk. "Let me see," he said, reaching for her spoon. "If it's as good as it looks … hmmm." His tongue darted out to catch a drop. "Oh yeah. It is."

  So rattled by the sight of his wet tongue sliding over his own lips, Amber lost every thought in her head. Her hands loosened with the loss of blood flow to her brain, and the small bit of frozen yogurt still left in the cup spilled out … right down the front of her jacket.

  Dax was there in a flash, laughing, slipping her jacket off her shoulders.

  "No, don't," she gasped, gripping the edges of her jacket, pressing it to her too-tight blouse. "I want it on—"

  "Hurry," he urged, tugging the jacket from her shoulders, leaving her exposed in nothing but the blouse she didn't want anyone to see. "Before it gets on your—" Abruptly, Dax stopped talking.

  Stopped breathing.

  He couldn't help himself, she was incredible. Yes, he'd already seen her, seen everything. He'd touched and licked and kissed every inch of her, but that didn't stop his heart from constricting and certain other parts of his anatomy from standing at attention at the sight of her straining against the tight confines of her white silk blouse.

  "I wanted that on," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

  He hardly heard her, could hardly think, but he had to touch.

  Her face remained cool, impassive as he slid his fingers over her,