The Best Bride. Susan Mallery

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      She opened her eyes and stared at him. The fire burning in his dark irises left no room for any emotion other than passion. She reveled in the need and desire that matched her own.

      Never taking her eyes from him, she touched his face. Her fingers traced the straight line of his nose, the shape of his jaw. She heard the rasp of her fingertips against his stubble, and felt the smoothness of his mustache. She touched his damp mouth, tracing the shape, enjoying the heat. He parted his lips and licked the tip of her finger.

      She laughed. He smiled at the sound; then his smile faded and she saw the questions forming in his eyes. Questions that quenched the fire and overpowered the need.

      The loss was more than she could bear. “Don’t,” she whispered.

      “Elizabeth, you’re reacting. It’s too soon.”

      The disappointment tasted bitter. “I thought men always wanted to get women into bed. I guess it’s not true.” She tried to slide off his lap, but he held her in place. She flushed. “Or it’s not true with me.”

      He thrust his hips forward, pressing his erection hard against her. “Do you need more proof that I want you? I’m trying to keep you from having regrets in the morning.”

      “You’re thinking about my past.” It hurt to be rejected out of hand. The feeling was made worse by the fact that he was the first man she’d been attracted to, or had even kissed, since Sam. She hadn’t made love for over a year. She’d never once been tempted to stray, and since she found out the truth about her marriage, she’d been too ashamed to try dating. Nothing had changed. She was still the shy little nobody. The girl who didn’t understand boys or know how to attract them. The boys had grown into men, but she was just as lost as ever.

      “I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” she said stiffly, wishing she wasn’t turning bright red.

      “Damn it, Elizabeth, what do I have to do to prove to you that I’m trying to act like a gentleman?”

      “Nothing at all— What are you doing?”

      He placed one arm around her back and slipped the other underneath her legs. As he rose to his feet, he pulled her against his chest. He walked four steps to the bed.

      “You are the most stubborn woman,” he growled as he bent over and placed her on the comforter.

      “Stop. You don’t have to do anything. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.” She started scrambling off the other side.

      He grabbed both her hands in his. One he held down at the mattress, the other he drew to his crotch and placed against him. Even through his jeans he was hard and hot. He held on to her wrist and moved her palm up and down. A tremor shot through his body, and he gritted his teeth.

      “Had enough?” he asked, his eyes once again burning with the fire.

      “No,” she said truthfully.

      “Elizabeth, don’t tempt me like this. You’re still recovering from your surgery. You’re upset about your past. I don’t want you to wake up and hate my guts. I like you too much for that.”

      If he’d promised to love her forever, she would have never believed him. If he’d said the truth didn’t matter, she would have never forgiven him for the lie. But liking her she could believe. She liked him back. He was the closest thing in the world she had to a friend. He knew the truth about her and hadn’t turned his back on her. He might tomorrow. He might pity her or get angry. But for tonight he was her friend.

      She reached for the first button on his jeans. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. It could just be about tonight.”

      “Hell.” He brushed her fingers away and bent down and kissed her.

      He didn’t wait for an invitation, but thrust inside her mouth savagely, hungrily, as if he’d been given permission to devour that which he most desired. He sucked on her lower lip, nipped her chin, then moved lower to the neck of her T-shirt. He paused long enough to slip off the offending garment and continue his journey of exploration.

      His hands led the way, unfastening her bra to bare her breasts. The evening air was cool, in contrast to the heat of his mouth trailing ever closer. Damp kisses ignited her skin. His scent surrounded her, filling her with images of the man who touched her. She reached out to embrace his body, feeling the muscles in his arms and back, touching his short dark hair.

      He murmured her name over and over again as if it were an incantation. His fingers reached for and found her puckered nipples, toying with them, readying them for his mouth.

      He moved until he was straddling her. Their jeans slid back and forth creating friction. The bulging male part of him mated with her softer, damper center. Through the layers of clothing, she felt the promise of their joining.

      Her hands fluttered against his chest and touched the buttons of his shirt. Before she could unfasten even one, he touched her right nipple with his tongue.

      All rational thought fled. Her body awakened painfully to the joy of moist heat, the suckling that pulled exquisitely from her breast through her belly down to her swelling center. Her arms fell to her sides and her hands clung to the comforter. Her hips arched against him seeking the release of his touch.

      Her breathing increased. She’d tried not to think about making love with Travis. She hadn’t been as successful as she would have liked. She’d known he would be tender and patient, qualities she’d seen in him every day. She thought she might enjoy the feel of his body close to her, on top of her, his powerful strength reminding her of her femaleness. His broad shoulders made her feel fragile—and safe. She’d known she would enjoy his attentions, but she hadn’t expected to lose control.

      His fingers toyed with her other breast, teasing the hardened tip with the flick of his thumb. His kiss on her deepened, then he drew back and moved his lips over her nipple. The individual hairs of his mustache swept over her sensitized skin, making her gasp and bringing her shoulders up off the bed. She reached up and grabbed his head, holding him in place. She’d never been aggressive in bed before. She’d never offered any comments on Sam’s performance. He’d pleased her most of the time, and she’d been content with that. He’d occasionally asked her to be the aggressor, but she’d never had the courage to act without being acted upon.

      But now, she had no choice in the matter. Those tiny prickling caresses made her breath catch and legs tremble. She couldn’t bear for him to stop. He kept moving back and forth against her breasts, taunting her with the movement. Her hips flexed again and again, pressing harder against his arousal. She was more ready than she had ever been. So close it hurt to breathe hard, and yet he hadn’t even touched her there.

      When she thought she would explode or go mad, he slid down her body, trailing kisses to the waistband of her jeans. He sat up and unfastened the button and slipped the zipper down. She had enough awareness to raise her hips to assist him.

      It was only when she felt his mouth on her thigh that she realized he’d taken off her panties along with her jeans. Before she could be embarrassed, he moved his hands between her legs and urged her to part them.

      She willingly availed herself to him, anticipating the skillful touch of his fingers. Something warm fanned her most secret place. A breath of air. Her eyes opened. Before she could react, his fingers drew her open and he kissed her moist, quivering center.

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