A Perfect Strategy. Anna Sugden

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Getting the sweetest taste.

      A lightning bolt shot through his body, headed straight for his groin.

      He wanted more. Much more.

      Start me up.

      The intro to a Rolling Stones song blasted him out of the sensuous moment. Scott jerked his head up. At the same time, he tightened his hold on Sapphie. Not wanting to let her go. But they couldn’t remain on the dance floor making a spectacle of themselves by continuing to slow dance while everyone around them bopped to Jagger.

      He and Sapphie eased apart, but he didn’t let go of her hand. She tightened her grip. They headed toward the back of the ballroom, where they found an empty space near a table to stand.

      “So...” Sapphie cleared her throat. “Probably not the best place for kissing.”

      The tips of his ears grew hot.

      “Uh, no.”

      Sapphie looked him straight in the eye. “Do you want to find a place to continue this or get a drink?”

      He knew what his answer should be. “I’m not thirsty.”

      Sapphie’s smile lit up her face, making him feel like he’d scored the game-winner. Which, given he was a stay-at-home defenseman, would be as much of a miracle as this evening was turning out to be.

      “There are gardens out back,” she suggested. “We could take a walk, get some fresh air.”

      “Fresh air’s good.”

      She tilted her head toward the door. “We can make a break for it before the song ends.”

      Like naughty schoolchildren, they slipped past the caterers replenishing the buffet and paused in the foyer to adjust to the brighter light.

      Scott half expected Sapphie to change her mind. What would a bright, bubbly and beautiful woman like her want with an out-of-work, out-of-place old guy like him?

      Instead, she tugged on their joined hands, pulling him into a side corridor that ended at a glass fire door. He pushed open the door for her, then let it close behind them.

      The night was surprisingly still, even though crickets and tree frogs chirped. The balmy air felt good after the chill inside. A rain shower earlier in the day had lowered the blazing late-summer temperatures and cleared some of Jersey’s notorious humidity.

      Scott and Sapphie strolled along the brick path, their way lit by old-fashioned lanterns that cast pools of soft light at regular intervals. They crossed over a wooden bridge that spanned a shallow stream and continued toward a stone gazebo. Turning a corner, they took steps leading down to a jetty, which stretched out into the dark water of the lake.

      Sapphie slipped off her shoes and held them by the heels. “Come on. Let’s dangle our feet in the water.”

      She didn’t wait for his answer before dashing to the end of the jetty.

      Scott followed, smiling at her infectious enthusiasm. “Wait. You’ll ruin your gown if you sit there.” He shrugged out of his tux jacket and spread it out on the planks. “Now you can sit, my lady.”

      She grinned, clasping her hands to her chest. “My hero. Thank you, Sir Galahad. Or should that be Sir Walter Raleigh—protecting my silk dress from damage by laying down your coat?”

      “Either way, you’re welcome. Can’t have you going into the ballroom with a dirty patch on your backside.”

      Flirting wasn’t one of his skills, because he’d never needed to play those games.

      Thankfully, Sapphie laughed at his inept response. “That would be hard to explain.” She dipped her bare feet into the water and wiggled her toes. “Oh, that feels good.”

      Man, was he out of his depth when he was turned on by dainty feet and cute toes.

      She patted the space beside her. “Won’t you join me? There’s enough room, so you won’t get mud on your great butt either.”

      He sat beside her and was about to put his feet in the water when he realized he still wore his shoes. Hoping Sapphie hadn’t noticed, he removed them and his socks, then put them behind him on the jetty. He also remembered to roll up his pant legs.

      “You’re right. That feels good,” he said.

      They sat quietly, watching the play of moonlight on the rippling water. For a woman who exuded energy and life, she was surprisingly good at handling silence. She didn’t rush to fill it with chatter. The only movement was the swish of her feet making little whirlpools.

      Scott managed not to jump when her hand slipped into his. Instead, he kept staring forward as he entwined their fingers, then rested their joined hands on his thigh. His thumb mimicked her feet, stroking her soft skin in circles. His pulse kicked when she copied his action, her thumb drawing circles on his knuckle.

      He turned to look at her. Only to find her studying him.

      The silence became charged. Like the electricity in the air before a storm.

      Sapphie gently touched his mouth with her finger. She lingered over his scar, making it tingle. “I know this doesn’t hurt anymore, but it makes me want to kiss your poor lip better.”

      He almost couldn’t breathe. “Feel free,” he managed to say.

      She didn’t need a second invitation. She kissed her fingertip and pressed it to his lip.

      He tried not to be disappointed. He’d expected—

      Her mouth replaced her fingertip. She brushed a soft kiss against his scar. So fleeting it was over almost before it started. Yet it sent fierce need pulsing through his body.

      Her second kiss was firmer, lasting a fraction longer. Her third, longer still. Then her tongue traced his scar.

      He hardened instantly, spurring him to action. Two could play this game.

      He reached up and rubbed his thumb over her full lower lip. Back and forth, gently parting her lips.

      She responded by nipping his thumb, then flicking her tongue against it. Her mouth curved into a teasing smile. A satisfied glint lit her eyes.

      So she thought she was in control? That she had him where she wanted him.

      Not quite.

      He swept in and took advantage of her parted lips. No teasing or flirting. No hesitation or asking permission. His hand cupped the back of her head, anchoring her to him.

      Her grip on his other hand tightened. Her free arm wound around his neck, pulling him closer. She met his desire and upped the intensity.

      Suddenly, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel her against him. To touch her.

      He released her hand and stroked her arm. Was her skin as soft everywhere? While he massaged her neck, he ran the fingers of his other hand over her bare shoulder and down her back, until they met silky fabric. He’d admired the strapless, knee-length СКАЧАТЬ