Carried Away. Donna Kauffman

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      He was so close, his body felt so nice and hard against hers…she all but swooned against him.

      “Steady,” was all he said, then carefully propped her in a corner and disappeared behind a white paneled door without another glance.

      Well, she thought, scowling at the now-vacant spot beside her. Apparently she was the only one suffering from hormone shock. She definitely had to forget those blue eyes looking into hers while he told her he wished they’d met under different circumstances. They hadn’t. And even if she was willing to forgive him—and she wasn’t saying she was—the rental car made it clear he was not a permanent fixture around here, or anywhere if the uniform meant anything. She let her eyes slide shut. And Lord, he was a man meant to wear a uniform. Protecting lives and making the world a safer place. A bubble of laughter pushed up her throat. Unless of course you were a bridesmaid ditching your pal’s wedding. Then he was a dangerous man.

      She thought about the way he’d taken her out of the house. Yes, he might be charming and polite when he wanted to be, but there was no doubt that he was a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted it.

      The door popped open again and he was back, taking up way too much of her personal space and invading her emotional comfort zone just as effortlessly. She, on the other hand, apparently hadn’t made the least little dent in his. He handed her what looked like a long white gown.

      “Choir robe,” he said. “I thought you might want to get out of that dress before we left.”

      Visions of him doing just that came right into her mind without even asking permission. She shoved them aside and hugged the robe to her chest. “Thank you.” Then she realized she hadn’t completed her descent into Bridesmaid Hell. “Um…apparently I’m going to need some help getting this thing off.”

      Where other men might have drooled openly at the opportunity to help any woman out of her clothes, he actually looked uncomfortable. She could almost like him for that.

      “You didn’t seem to have the least compunction in carrying me out of my house in my underwear,” she reminded him, even as her little voice told her it wasn’t wise to goad the man. What did her little voice know anyway? It hadn’t kept her out of this mess in the first place, now had it?

      “Is there a…zipper or something?” he asked, looking her over as if her dress was some sort of secret military weapon.

      If she hadn’t been so tired and uncomfortable, she might have enjoyed making him sweat a little. It was the least he deserved. “I rolled it on basically.”

      He just stared at her. Now it was her turn to feel a bit uncomfortable. Okay, more than a little. Having his hands on her, pulling this dress off—You’re in a church, for heaven’s sake, she reminded herself. She cleared her throat. “We should probably hurry up. Don’t you have to be in the pictures or something?”

      “They’re taking the group photos at the country club.”

      “Well, then let’s get this over with so you can drop me off and be on your way.”

      He knelt in front of her, lifted his hands to the hem that was still scrunched up around her knees, then dropped them again. “I’m, uh, not sure where to begin.”

      She carefully held her arms out and delivered her best smile. Maybe making him sweat was going to be more fun than she thought. “I think the Band-Aid approach is best. Just yank.”

      He looked up at her then and she felt her stomach drop and her heart begin to pound. Here she was, standing in a church, in a fancy dress, with a gorgeous man on one knee in front of her. Scowling. She couldn’t get anything right.

      “Hold on to my shoulders,” he directed. “If I can roll this up a bit, maybe then you can, you know, take it from there.”

      His hands, with those long fingers…all up and down her thighs. Jesus, she’d never survive it without disgracing herself. But then, that wasn’t much of a stretch at the moment, was it? “Okay, okay.” She took a deep breath, or as deep a one as the dress would allow. “But close your eyes.”

      He grabbed hold of the hem and shoved upward, but the fabric stopped just below crotch level, bound tightly around her hips. She wobbled and came dangerously close to pitching forward, which would have pressed his face…well, right where no man should have his face when inside a church. “Stop, stop,” she said breathlessly. “Get me out of these shoes.” She should have done that first anyway.

      He did, all warm fingertips brushing at her skin, sending a tingling sensation all the way up to…well, where his face had almost been moments ago. Who knew ankles were erogenous zones?

      She came dangerously close to moaning when she felt his warm breath on her skin as his fingers slid around her ankle to unbuckle one shoe, then the other. As it was, she had to sink her nails more deeply into his uniformed shoulders just to remain upright.

      “Hold on, one more buckle. Got it.” He stood carefully, apparently oblivious to the near orgasm he’d just given her.

      She really did need to get to bed. Alone, she quickly amended as she stepped gingerly and oh-so-very thankfully out of the instruments of death. She’d never been so glad to feel the ground so firm and cold beneath her toes. “Okay, here’s the plan,” she said, trying hard to focus on just getting out of the shrink-wrap with as little touching on his part as possible. “I’m going to put the robe on and pull the shoulder straps off and roll the dress down to my waist. Then I’ll push and you pull and the whole thing should drop off, right?”

      He looked dubious.

      “It’s that or cut the damn thing off. I’d rather not do that to Viv’s dress. Who knows, maybe she can get a refund or…or something. Let’s just try, okay?”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      “Great. And stop ma’aming me. Makes me feel like an old granny or something.”

      He grinned then, just before dropping the robe over her head. “Trust me,” he said, his voice muffled by the voluminous folds of white cotton. “You’re nothing like any grandmother I’ve ever seen. It’s just habit. Military.”

      She wisely said nothing as she squirmed out of the dress straps, keeping her arms inside the robe. She’d shrugged out of her tank top straps when she’d put this monstrosity on, and tucked them inside the dress. But she couldn’t untuck them now. Why should that surprise her? She tried to tug the top part down, but while the front part was willing—her boobs were thrilled to finally be free—the sides and back were all hung up with the cotton of her undershirt.

      “Should I tug now?”

      “Just a minute.” She tugged a scrap of tank top from the front and held on tight to it. “Close your eyes.”

      She felt his fingertips brush her thighs again. “Eyes closed,” he said.

      She realized hers were, too. “On three. One, two—now!”

      She gripped, he yanked…and the dress gave way and fell to the floor. Right along with her panties.

      “Just, uh, just turn around, okay? I can take it from here.”

      She СКАЧАТЬ