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.With another moan, she swayed even closer, giving herself up completely to his kiss.He took what she offered, threading the fingers of one hand up into the silky fall of her hair, cupping her head more firmly—and freeing his other hand to touch her.And he did touch her.He ran a slow finger down the side of her neck, tracing the V-shaped collar of her T-shirt.Her breasts were so round and full.So beautiful…He took one in his hand, flicking at the nipple through her shirt and bra, feeling the hard, needful little nub even through her clothes.She shivered, gasped again.He drank in the sound.His own arousal strained at his jeans.He always wanted her, but now, at this minute, the longing was a pulse that beat through his veins, demanding…now! Now, now…He broke the kiss.She moaned in protest and surged up, trying to recapture his lips.Fingers tangled in her hair, he held her still, his mouth an inch from hers.“Inside the house,” he growled.“Now…”Her eyelids were low.She sighed.“Yes.Oh, yes…”They couldn’t get out of that car fast enough.Her side was closest to the inner door.She got there ahead of him and waited, her eyes the green of a secret pool, her body swaying toward him as if magnetized.“Oh, Greg…” This time he had no doubt what the words meant: she wanted him.As he wanted her….She reached out with a tiny cry.He caught her in his arms, wrapped her tight against him, kissed her again.Because she wanted it.Because he couldn’t resist.He pushed her back to the door, and ground his hips against her.It was agony, the sweetest kind of torture, the kind that turns a man inside out, that makes him forget the shadows in a woman’s eyes.Her little shirt ended right above the low waist of her jeans.He dipped his hands up under it, felt the full, sweet, giving flesh of her midsection, ran his palms up her rib cage, over her bra—and around to the back.A flick of his thumb and index finger and the clasp let go.He pushed the bra out of his way, easing his hands beneath it, so he could cup those beautiful, soft breasts.She sighed into his mouth, her nipples, hard with yearning, poking into the center of his palms.She touched him—and it nearly finished him—her soft, stroking hand finding its way down between their tight-pressed bodies.She cupped him through his jeans, her hand curling around him lengthwise, covering him, rubbing him.He thought he would die—and not mind at all.Go out in a blaze of mindless, lust-bright glory.She was a woman with a mission and she went to work, kissing him madly, rubbing her round, hot body against him, all the while stroking him, unhooking the metal buttons at the front of his jeans, one and then the other, slipping his boxers out of the way.Until she had him, naked, in her hand.He let out a moan dragged up from the depths of him.And she wrapped her fingers snug around him, brushing a naughty thumb over the nerve-thick head, catching the bit of moisture that wept from him, spreading it around….She laughed, a low, rough sound of pleasure, of excitement.“Now,” she pleaded—a plea that was somehow, at the same time, a bold command.“Now, Greg.Please…”He had a condom—more than one.He’d thought that after dinner and a glass of wine, at the end of the evening, they might try out his new bed.So much for waiting to use the bed….He reached behind him, fumbled in a pocket of the jeans she’d pushed halfway down his hips.He pulled one out and then brought it between them.With a pleased little purring sound, she took it, peeled the wrapper off with eager hands and rolled it down over him.He moaned as she did that; he whispered her name.“Megan…”“Yes,” she breathed with another low, sexy laugh, as her flat canvas shoes went flying.“Oh, yes….” She unbuttoned the snap at the waist of her jeans.She brought the zipper down.The small, rasping sound as the teeth parted drove him crazy.Insane.Stark, raving out of his mind.To have her.Now.To be inside her, right here, standing up, against the door….She skimmed the jeans off and away, her sexy, lacy panties with them.He took her by the hips, lifting her.She wrapped those full thighs around him.He entered her in a slow, even glide.Her body opened like a liquid flower for him, giving him no resistance.Only wetness, heat and welcome.She took him in—deep.All the way.They both threw back their heads and moaned at the sheer aching pleasure of it.And after that, it was quick and wild, fierce and mindless….He braced her against the door and she locked those fine, big legs around him as she rode him, hard, rolling her hips against him, crying out in excitement, meeting his every thrust with one of her own.He held her, with the help of the door.And the world burst wide open—open so far that it seemed to turn itself inside out.He felt her coming….That did it.He went over, too, pressing himself hard up into her, holding her hips to keep her in place.With a low groan, he sagged against the door, waves of pleasure tingling along every nerve.Smelling of peaches and musk, her skin moist from loving, she rained soft kisses on his lips, his chin, his jaw, his neck….Finally, she unclasped her ankles from their tight grip around him.Gently, with great care, he lowered her to the step.She clung to his neck, burying her head in his shoulder.He kissed her hair and whispered, still half-breathless, “So much for a nice bottle of wine and fresh sheets on my new bed.”She giggled and nipped his ear.“We could still do the wine.And the bed.Eventually.”“Then we’d damn well better get busy.”“You are so right.Button up, big boy.Let’s get to work.”They did make it to his new bed.Well after midnight.By then, every room had furniture in it, attractively arranged.Also, most of the kitchen stuff and linens had been put away.He still had more work to do, to get everything where it belonged.But it was livable.He could move in.And he planned to.On Saturday.Once he was in, little by little he would be moving stuff from the apartment to Rosewood.And in a few weeks, he would be selling off whatever goods and furniture he couldn’t use, putting his place in the city up for sale.They didn’t talk about any of that, though—about when he would move in, about his plans for the Manhattan apartment and its contents.Greg wasn’t sure which of them was avoiding the subject.He decided it didn’t matter
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Tematy
IndexChristine Amsden [Cassie Scot Cassie Scot ParaNormal Detecti
Christie Craig [Divorced, Des Divorced, Desperate
Moore Christopher Ssij, mała, ssij (II)
Stasheff, Christopher Wizard in Rhyme 6 Haunted Wizard
Christine Feehan Mroczna Seri Mroczny Demon
Cidney Swanson [Saving Mars Saving Mars (epub)
Stasheff, Christopher Rogue Wizard 04 A Wizard in Peace
Feehan Christine Mroczna Seria 01 Mroczny Ksišże
Stasheff, Christopher Warlock 01 The Warlock in Spite of Himself
Christine Feehan Mroczna Seria 13 Mroczne Przeznaczenie