Weddings Collection. Кэрол Мортимер
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Название: Weddings Collection
Автор: Кэрол Мортимер
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: Mills & Boon e-Book Collections
isbn: 9781472096692
isbn:
Kevin tilted her head up, to look into her face. “On what?”
“On whether it’s the right one.” She wasn’t the kind who asked for anything, afraid that it would someday come back to bite her. But this was Kevin. Kevin, who opened up a whole myriad of feelings inside her that she had never felt before. Kevin who was good and kind and not a thing like her father. “If I asked you to hold me, would that be very offensive to you?”
“Offensive?” Of all the words she could have used, that was the least likely to match what was going on inside him right now. “Pleasurable, yes. But offensive?” He shook his head slowly, his eyes holding hers. “No, can’t say that’s the feeling that would be going through me.”
The moment his arms closed around her, June felt she’d come home again.
The next step came naturally. He lowered his head and kissed her.
Her body heated immediately. Everything she’d been wrestling with these past few days—her situation, her feelings about her father, about Kevin—all of that faded into the background. Elbowed quickly out of the way by the urgent needs that were suddenly running rampant through her, as if they’d been hovering in the wings, waiting for the first sign of weakness within her.
But this wasn’t weakness, it couldn’t be. Because even though her knees felt like dampened cotton balls, the rest of her experienced an incredible surge of power flowing through her.
Her breath grew short in her lungs as anticipation took hold. She couldn’t wait to rid herself of the cumbersome barrier of clothing that kept her from him.
Kept him from her.
Her fingers felt as if they were getting in each other’s way. Buttons refused to leave their holes. She suddenly felt clumsy.
“Hey, steady,” he laughed softly, staying her hands as they began tearing away at her clothes.
“Are you laughing at me?”
There was hurt in her voice. “Enjoying you, loving you, but never laughing, June, never laughing,” he assured her.
His lips glided along her face, her throat, making her ache inside. A wildness that hadn’t been there the first time threatened to leap out of her veins.
“Let me,” he urged softly.
His words barely registered on the edge of her consciousness. And then she felt his hands on her, peeling away her clothing. Peeling away the thin fabric of any resolve that might have been lingering, getting in the way.
He was right.
This was better. Much better. His undressing her heightened the anticipation that poured through her, making it fill every inch of space within her.
She returned the favor, mimicking his movements, spreading her palms out along his chest, his taut belly, dipping her fingers beneath his waistband before undertaking the final step of drawing his jeans away from his body.
Kevin could feel blood pounding through his body, echoing the drumming of his heartbeat. He threaded his hands through her hair, wrapping his fingers through the silky strands. “You pick up things quickly.”
“I always have,” she murmured against his mouth.
They never made it to the bedroom.
With the strong scent of paint still lingering all around them, they found a haven right there beside the scarred coffee table, on the throw rug that Max had given her as a housewarming gift.
She could feel the imprint of the weave pressing itself into her bare flesh as she moved in a rhythm that Kevin created for her.
The rug crumpled beneath her fingers as she clutched at it, absorbing the sensation of Kevin’s mouth as it wove a moist path along her body. Leaving none of her untouched.
Reducing her to a mass of palpitating ashes.
She was barely conscious of sweeping her fingertips along his bare body as he did impossible things to her, evoked impossible responses.
It was even better than the last time.
How was it possible to improve on perfection?
She didn’t have an answer to that, but he was doing it. Making her crazy. Making her glow. Robbing her of the chance to turn the tables on him because she hadn’t the strength to turn over a match, much less her own body in order to straddle him.
She could only give herself to him and reap in the pleasure from the act.
Over and over again, he’d taken her to the edge and then teasingly, dramatically, pushed her over until she was certain that she couldn’t register another feeling, another climax.
But she was wrong.
He came to her. His eyes were filled with an emotion she hadn’t seen before, one that made her feel daring and safe at the same time. She arched her hips toward him, borrowing strength from some bank in oblivion.
When he entered her this time, there was no pain. There was only comfort. And unspeakable joy.
It echoed in the way she gasped his name as she sealed her body to his.
And silently gave him her heart.
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