Читать книгу Did Someone Order Room Service?: - Charlotte Phillips, Charlotte Phillips - Страница 7

Too stunned to do anything but stand there, he froze until she pulled away, breathing hard. The look in her wide eyes was a mixture of shock and exhilaration.

It wasn’t often that women surprised him. He’d been faintly amused by her determination to give him the brush-off. It all added to the fun, right? He certainly hadn’t expected Miss Straight-Down-The-Line to do a u-turn all by herself, and had in fact been idling away the half hour since she’d left the suite considering his own next move. Yet apparently his charm had a presence of its own, continuing to work even when he wasn’t present. And now that she had made that u-turn, it would be rude not to respond, right?

Initially caught off-guard, he quickly reclaimed control of the situation. He looked down into the china blue eyes and took in her short, quick breaths and the expression on her face of nervous excitement. Really, she was so cute. He took his time to savour the triumph as he slid his hands into her far-too-tidy hair and angled her jaw perfectly with a stroke of his thumbs. Slowly now, his pace not hers, he kissed her.

The touch of his lips and the slide of his hand around her waist sent delicious sparks of heat flying down her spine. Rationality almost made a last-minute comeback. One little move and she could still undo this madness, she could have the status of the girl who’d knocked back Matt Stanton, maybe that could have its own special kudos. She could go right on back to the daily grind, the work-hard-and-get-nowhere treadmill that she’d been on for years.

Maybe on a normal day rationality might have stood a chance. But today second thoughts didn’t seem to have an awful lot going for them. After the day she’d had the thought of behaving badly and tasting life seemed like the best idea she’d had in years. Why not find out exactly what it was she was supposed to be missing out on. At least then she could argue her point with her nutty mother from a position of knowledge. And let’s face it, behaving well for the last twenty four years hadn’t really yielded any results, had it?

She shoved away the voice of reason and let herself melt against him. There was no grabbing, no fast moves, he was making it clear that every step of this was something to relish, not a crazy rush. Just one single connection, his lips against hers, slowly intensified by his hand as he slipped it into her hair to cradle the nape of her neck. Tingling heat spiralled through her body to pool in an intense flutter between her legs.

And all the while the neon sign flashed in her mind.

Matt Stanton is KISSING YOU! You have his calendar hanging downstairs in your locker!

He took her lower lip between his own and sucked gently, caressing her lips apart with his tongue. Her hands crept around his neck, wanting more of that delicious connection, and excitement rose inside her like a crowd of butterflies, masking reality, buffering out the inhibiting real world of choices and consequences.

Losing herself.

She let her hands slide up his chest and knitted fingers behind his neck. His shoulders were gorgeous. The breadth of them. The solidity. And the strength in his arms and hands, the latent power beneath his lightness of touch. You could feel protected from anything wrapped in arms like those.

This was the ultimate in shallow encounters and that in itself felt suddenly exciting. Work was forgotten. Responsibility was forgotten. This was about proving a point – to her mother, damn right, but more importantly to herself. Payback time and damn the consequences. This moment was hers, she could take what pleasure she wanted from it. No complications. That thought was somehow freeing and intoxicating and she tugged at his polo shirt, pulled it free from his jeans, wanting to explore. He slid a hand around her waist and tugged her further into the room kissing her as he went, stopping briefly to pull the shirt over his head and throw it to the floor. Free now to touch him, she slid curious hands slowly up his tanned chest to his huge shoulders. Not a scrap of fat laced his body. Desire burned hotly through her at the feel of taut skin sheathing hard muscle.