Читать книгу Perfect Passion - Day Leclaire - Страница 7

Trey couldn’t explain what had gotten into him, couldn’t explain why he’d grabbed her. Why he’d kissed her. Like a throwback to a far distant time in human development, he saw, he wanted, he took.

Why the devil did they have to send him a pixie? And why the hell hadn’t he realized from the hologram that’s what she was? He must have replayed the various recordings a hundred times, unable to explain what drew him to this woman. And yet, for all his viewings, he hadn’t realized just how tiny she’d be. He was a total sucker for those small, delicate types.

He drew the pixie up, closer still, unable to get enough of her. Her mouth was soft as butter, her tongue a delicious duel, her urgent sigh threatening to blow the top straight off his head. And while she seemed so small and fine-boned within the safety of his arms, the curves pressed against him were all woman.

Unable to help himself, he allowed his hands to stray into uncharted territory, mapping them, committing them to memory. Her shoulders revealed sinewy muscle, confirming that the Pretorius Program had proven successful in meeting one of his criteria. She was athletic. His hands drifted lower, cupping the weight of her breasts that fit his palms as though made for them.

Her breath escaped in a gasp. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said.

“You and me both, PW.”

And still he couldn’t bring himself to stop, to even pretend he possessed an ounce of sophistication or restraint. His hands slipped farther downward, found the minuscule waist, the soft, slope of her toned abdomen. The sexy curve of hip and backside. And then the heated core of her. One touch and he knew they both were in serious trouble. They broke apart at the exact same instant, dragging air into their lungs in collective gulps.