Читать книгу The Man From Madrid - Anne Weale - Страница 2

So long that she had almost forgotten how it felt to have a large hand cupping the back of her head and warm lips exploring her face. She closed her eyes and relaxed into his embrace, her heart thudding against her ribs as his lips found hers.

When she opened her eyes he was looking intently at her, his dark eyes brilliant with desire.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable and more private,” he said huskily. He stood up, drawing her with him. “My room…or yours?”