Читать книгу Missing Mother-To-Be - Эль Кеннеди - Страница 3

“I’m torn between throttling you and kissing you.”

His throat went dry the second the words left his mouth.

Their gazes locked again, and what he saw on her face stole his breath. She looked as she did the night in his hotel room. Cheeks flushed to a rosy pink. Lips slightly parted. The memory of how soft those lips felt pressed against his own had him moving closer, too, despite every warning bell going off in his head.

It was hard to breathe. Or think. Yeah, he really wasn’t thinking as his head dipped ever so slightly. His body went tighter than a drum, taut with anticipation.

His pulse raced.

Her eyes glimmered with reluctant heat.

Their heads moved closer, their lips mere inches away. The scent of her hair drifted into his nostrils, sweet and feminine and so very addictive. He breathed her in, drowning in the scent, while his body hummed eagerly and his mouth tingled with the need to taste her.

So he did.