Passionate Fantasy. Sharon Kendrick
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Название: Passionate Fantasy
Автор: Sharon Kendrick
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Modern
isbn: 9781474063876
isbn:
‘Go on, then.’ His voice had dropped to a deep, dark caress, and Kitty felt her breasts tighten with the tingle of anticipation. ‘I dare you. Slap my face.’
She stared back at him, unable to move, her mind at odds with her body as she forgot all about Caro and why she was here, forgot all about everything other than the need to know what kissing him really would be like.
And, oh, heavens, she was just about to find out as that devastating dark head dipped down towards hers and his mouth found her lips.
For a second, there was a blaze inside her heart as she realised that the man whose face had graced a thousand movie-goers’ magazine covers was actually kissing her—Kitty Goodman with the ginger hair. It was every woman’s fantasy come to brazen, beautiful life.
And then she forgot just who she was kissing; her attention and her senses were all caught up with just how he was kissing. It was a soft, slow exploration, with scarcely any pressure on her mouth to begin with and with nothing but their lips touching at all. Which all changed when he shifted his head just a fraction to give him greater access to the moist, eager interior of her mouth, and she slipped her hands up to clutch at his shoulders as his tongue flicked with sensual ease to lick at hers, as though he were slowly licking cream off the top of a pudding.
She felt that pleasurable ache as the tips of her breasts clamoured into disbelieving life, her eyelids falling helplessly over her eyes, so, so tempted to move her hands down from his shoulders, to slip them inside his towelling robe and to touch and caress his bare chest ...
And then he stopped kissing her, and stood staring down at her thoughtfully as she fought to drag some air into her starved lungs. To her horror she discovered that her desires had become actions and that her palms were lying against the hard nakedness of his chest, fingers fanned out over his nipples in as provocatively inviting and sexually possessive a gesture as it was possible to make.
‘Oh, God!’ she cried, wrenching her hands away with lightning speed.
A slow smile curved his mouth. ‘I’m still waiting,’ he murmured softly.
‘W-waiting for what?’ Not to make love to her here, surely?
‘Why, for you to slap my face,’ he concluded arrogantly.
She was stung, shocked, ashamed; a red mist of fury swam before her eyes, and she swung her hand up to hit him, but he was too quick for her, easily capturing her small wrist in his hand.
‘Not now, Kitty,’ he admonished sardonically. ‘That’s what’s known as shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted, wouldn’t you say?’ And he waved his hand in the direction of a state-of-the-art cooker, and gave her an amused smile. ‘I’ll leave you to your cooking. I don’t know about you, but I seem to have worked up the most enormous appetite.’
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