Over the Edge. Jeanie London

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СКАЧАТЬ radiating from his skin, even through his shirt. A hint of some sexy aftershave mingled with the scent that was all him—masculine, scrumptious male—an ambrosia that penetrated her senses and added to the experience of this man.

      Even kneeling on the bed, the top of her head only reached his chin and she had to tip her head back to look into his face. He had a striking face, all strong planes and angles, a face saved from true ruggedness by the sculpted lines of his mouth and those soulful brown eyes.

      His body, however, wasn’t spared the same fate. After his shirt and tie had been relegated to a heap on the floor, Mallory was treated to the sight of that chest in all its glory as he dragged the undershirt over his head, a breathtaking display of shifting muscle and masculine brawn.

      There was nothing small about this man. Not his broad, broad shoulders. Not his powerful arms. Not even his hands, which were long and square-fingered and strong.

      He was rugged in a way that was all grace, as if all his coarse edges had been buffed away. Or maybe it was simply that his golden skin and hair made him seem that way.

      But something about the sight of his naked chest made her feel her own nakedness more keenly than ever. Perhaps it was anticipation that heightened her senses. She wanted to feel that hot tanned skin close, the crisp blond hairs brushing her nipples, that lean waist beneath her curious fingers.

      Her hands trembled as she reached for his belt.

      He assisted by unfastening his button and zipper and then he was shoving his slacks down. His hands tangled with hers as they maneuvered his erection from its soft cotton prison, both of them stunned into a speechlessness so silent it was reverent.

      Ten years of waiting had been long enough to build the expectation to the breaking point. And she certainly felt close to the edge as he dragged his underwear and socks away, treating her to an up close and personal view of the whole package.

      Wow. Her heart did this crazy sort of flip-flopping thing, missing a beat entirely. Jake Trinity was almost too gorgeous to be real and suddenly the impressive roster of women he’d dated made sense. Women would be attracted to this man. Just as she’d been. He was nearly too gorgeous, too masculine, too larger-than-life, but his calm, almost serious demeanor made him seem unaware of his looks and the effect they had on the opposite sex in a way that was just too appealing.

      When he shed his glasses, his clothes and his professional persona, the real man emerged, a man who’d been blessed with a body that had been designed for sex. She paused with her hands hovering over his chest, his body heat spanning the distance to sink into her skin like a laser.

      “May I?” she asked, although she didn’t expect him to deny her. But there was something polite, necessary even, about the formality of gaining his permission before she went on a research expedition of his body.

      He inclined his head, a studied motion that suggested he’d been waiting ten years for her to ask.

      She’d been waiting, too. For ten years she’d wondered who this man really was, who he was growing up to be, had been alternately fascinated and repelled by him, and by herself because she’d so badly wanted to know.

      Now finally, finally…

      Threading her fingertips through the dark-gold hairs on his chest, she explored the terrain of muscle beneath warm skin. She splayed her hands upward over hard pecs, along the expanse of broad shoulders, down sculpted, powerful arms. The simple act of touching was an unusually potent experience given the years behind the need, given the sheer beauty of the man she touched.

      Silky hairs trickled to a V beneath his belly button, a golden arrow pointing downward to the breathtaking region below his waist…lean hips, muscular thighs, incredible erection.

      He was so…solid. Not just his equipment, but the whole deal. He was a man who could protect a woman from the world with his powerful body.

      If a woman wanted to be protected.

      Mallory wasn’t the need-to-be-protected kind, but rather the live-for-the-moment, savor-his-gorgeous-body variety. She was a woman with a healthy sexual appetite and she hadn’t made time for a lover in quite a while.

      Jake Trinity was a feast.

      Her own breathing grew shallow, echoing in the quiet as she smoothed her hands down his waist, then ventured around to explore the feel of his muscular, perfectly shaped butt.

      She almost wished he would say something to drown out the sounds of their excited breaths. But he only stood before her, legs braced apart, tolerantly allowing her to indulge her curiosity, which made her wonder what he would want in return for his patience.

      Brushing her fingers down his thighs, she circled around to the front of him, lightly grazing the underside of his scrotum, then stroking the hard length of an erection that was no less impressive than the rest of him.

      A huge shiver made him sway before her and his erection jumped in her hand, but he demonstrated an imposing willpower because he still didn’t say a word or try to touch her.

      The moment stretched with promise, a breathless moment where anything might be possible, where thoughts of sex and surrender and satisfaction all jumbled together in an almost visceral way.

      Her heartbeat fluttered wildly again at the thought of him wedging that hard body between her thighs, at this magnificent length pressing deep inside her, filling emptiness with heat.

      Her nipples beaded and her sex grew creamy wet. She wanted to lean forward and press herself against all this hot male bounty, feel her curves mesh with his, feel that erection brand the moist skin between her thighs.

      She wanted to look into his face, to see if he was similarly affected, but she resisted, unwilling to let him glimpse the raw need she wasn’t quite sure she successfully hid.

      Sweeping the mass of wet hair behind her shoulder, she leaned forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to the pulse beating low in his throat instead.

      The contact of her mouth against his skin was the fuse that detonated his restraint. All of a sudden he seemed to explode. His strong arms lashed around her like whipcords. He scooped her beneath him with a violence of motion that took her off guard.

      By the time she realized what was happening, she was lying on her back with his knee across her thighs, his heavy leg anchoring her to the mattress.

      He’d done it again—totally taken her by surprise with that scoop-her-up-when-she-least-expected-it thing. A function of their disparate sizes, she supposed. A unique sensation and one she found stimulating. There was something so unfamiliar, so tantalizing about his power to assume control.

      He brushed his palm across her nipples, a slow, very sensual motion, as if he wanted to draw out the moment, to savor every second of the way they speared toward his touch.

      Then Mallory got her wish. With her cheek pressed to his chest, she could hear the rumble start deep inside, a purring that nearly drowned out the steady thud of his heart. She couldn’t resist tipping her head back to look into his face, see if his expression mirrored that rumbling sound of contentment.

      And the look on Jake Trinity’s face, the reckless hunger, the yearning, just might have gone a long way toward satisfying her need for vengeance—if she hadn’t been feeling a similar reckless hunger and yearning for him.

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