An Australian Surrender. Maisey Yates

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СКАЧАТЬ bare chest hot against her back. He gripped her shoulders, his hold keeping her from melting into a puddle and sliding down the piano bench.

      He moved one hand to her shoulder and brushed the strap of her silky top aside.

      “I just want to see,” he said, his voice tight. He moved her other strap aside and she felt her top fall, revealing her breasts. The only light in the room was the silver glow of the moon pouring through the window.

      Ethan’s unsteady breathing, the slight tremble in his hand as he slid his fingertips down her arm, made her feel powerful, made her feel confident in a way she never had before.

      “You’re more beautiful than I imagined. And I imagined you would be stunning.”

      She tried to ignore the tightening in her throat, tried to focus only on the desire that was coursing through her. The physical. She didn’t want anything else. Didn’t need it. She just wanted him to touch her. She didn’t know what she wanted after that, wasn’t sure if she was ready for more, but if he would just touch her …

      “I need to touch you.”

      “Yes,” she breathed.

      Permission seemed to be what he’d been waiting for, because the moment the word left her lips, he moved his hands to her breasts, cupping her sensitive flesh, skimming his thumbs over her hardened nipples.

      “Oh, Ethan …” She let her head fall back against his stomach and focused on nothing. Nothing beyond the sharp, overwhelming darts of pleasure that were piercing her body, making her ache for more.

      She could feel the evidence of his desire, hard and hot behind her. It made her wish she knew what to do, made her wish she had some experience with men so that she’d know how to please him, make him feel even half of what he made her feel with the slightest stroke of his hands on her skin.

      He kissed her neck again, more firmly this time. She angled her head and pressed her mouth to his. Passion and fire exploded between them, the heat tangible, enough to burn her inside and out. And she liked it. A lot.

      His tongue slid over hers, and she met him, thrust for thrust, tasting him, devouring him as he continue to tease her breasts with his talented hands.

      She turned around, still on the bench, rising up on her knees and winding her arms around his neck. He braced his hands on her hips, holding her to him, her bare breasts pressed tightly against his chest.

      He nipped her lip, and the shock of the pain, slight but intense, made her heart pound faster, made her internal muscles tighten. She pulled her lips away from his, trying to catch her breath. He kissed her throat, her collarbone.

      More. She begged him silently. She wasn’t ready to ask out loud. She didn’t think she could. But she wanted it. Wanted his mouth on her breasts. She wanted him … all of him.

      “Oh, Ethan …” His name seemed like the only thing she could say. Because it was all that filled her mind.

      He froze, his hands tight on her still. He pulled his mouth away from her. His chest was rising and falling sharply, his dark eyes unreadable in the dim light.

      He shook his head. “This shouldn’t have happened. This can’t happen.”

      The rejection cut into her, clearing the fog of arousal quickly and brutally. “What?”

      “Not now. Not with you.” He pulled his hands away from her and she wobbled on the bench, bracing herself on the piano keys. The sound of incompatible notes was horrible and far too loud, jarring her the rest of the way back into reality.

      “Not with …”

      He turned away from her and walked back into his room, shutting the door behind him.

      She could only sit there, stunned, not so much by her own behavior, but by his. He wanted her, she knew he did. No matter what he’d said.

       Not with you.

      Because of whose daughter she was? Or because she wasn’t sexy enough? Or for some other reason he’d chosen to invent? She curled her hands into fists and fought the urge to pound them on the piano keys. To make so much noise that he wouldn’t be able just to walk into his room and shut her out.

      She was angry, embarrassed. But not destroyed. It was funny, she’d felt changed earlier, and now she realized that she really was. Because the old Noelle would have curled up in a ball and hidden after suffering something like that. Or she would have frozen, pretending things would somehow magically get fixed.

      But she wasn’t hiding now. She had a house to get back. She was strong enough to get through this, and she wasn’t going to let something like errant attraction—or rejection—stop her from achieving her goal.

      If Ethan didn’t want her, that was fine. She would deal with it. And she wouldn’t make the mistake of giving in to desire again.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      NOELLE had been like a living flame to the touch. Her skin so soft, her breasts the perfect weight in his hands. It had been hell to leave her. Hell to turn away from her when he’d wanted nothing more than to lift her onto the piano and settle between her thighs. To lose himself in her body.

      Twelve hours later and he was still so turned on, his teeth ached. And it was the wrong time to be so distracted. And she was absolutely the wrong woman.

      It was like a cosmic joke that his body responded to her. Actually, responded wasn’t a strong enough word—a response was expected between a man and a woman. No, this was … combustion. And it made him feel on edge and out of control, both things he hated.

      He gritted his teeth and tried to fight the arousal that still pounded through him. Part of him didn’t want to fight it. Part of him wanted to embrace it. To sink back into the dark sensuality that Noelle seemed able to create around them with such ease.

      No. Not happening. This was complicated enough without adding sex to the mix. He could control his desire for her, and he would control it.

      He walked out of his bedroom and into the main area of the hotel suite. It was empty, and he wondered if Noelle was still in her room. And if she was wearing that same, brief nightgown she’d been wearing the night before. She seemed to have a collection.

      He could feel his body hardening, his erection pushing against the seam of his jeans, and he tried to reroute his thoughts. Spreadsheets. Spreadsheets and the falling value of real estate. That wasn’t sexy at all.

      But Noelle still was, and he couldn’t shake the image of her from his mind.

      He stepped down to the piano and looked outside. She was out there on the balcony, a stack of documents on the table in front of her, alongside a cup of coffee—a vanilla latte, he assumed—and the laptop he’d packed for her.

      He slid open the glass door and walked out into the warm coastal morning, relishing the slight bite of the salt air in his throat when he breathed in. Relishing even more the scent of her as it caught in the breeze and teased his senses.

      “Working?” СКАЧАТЬ