Читать книгу The Surgeon's Secret Baby - Ann Christopher - Страница 2

“Lia.”

He sank his fingers deep into the silk of her hair, searching for the warmth of her scalp beneath, and tilted her head way back so he could have complete access to her mouth, which he took with deep, thrusting sweeps of his tongue. A remote corner of his brain was aware that his urgency was making him a little rough, and maybe he should ease up and let the poor woman catch her breath, but there was no time for that now. He’d waited too long and there were too many possible ways for their lips to fit together, tasting and nibbling, stroking and tugging, and the taste of her—a delicious combination of white wine and buttery icing from the cake—was far too delicious for him to slow down.

More. He needed more.

“I want you.” Jesus, was that him with that guttural and animalistic voice that sounded as though it belonged to a caveman? Too far gone to manage gentle, he grabbed fistfuls of her hair, learning the feel of it, and then ran his fingers over her forehead and dimpled cheeks, and across those lips that were slick and swollen now, but still smiling. “You have no idea how much I want you.”