Читать книгу Tempted - Janelle Denison - Страница 11

MARC BLINKED, surprise registering in his gaze at Brooke’s ardent demand. “Excuse me?”

Brooke dampened her bottom lip with her tongue. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest, and her entire body was charged with a nervousness she couldn’t deny. “Just do it!” Before I change my mind, she thought desperately.

He tilted his head, a curious smile canting the corner of that sensual mouth she knew was capable of giving her great pleasure. “Demanding thing, aren’t you?” he murmured.

He had no idea. Right now, she didn’t want to think about what she was about to do, or her reckless, irresponsible behavior, or the excitement spiraling low in her belly. She had a point to demonstrate, to him and herself…that she could just do it.

Forcing herself to be the aggressor, she released her grip on his flannel shirt and slid her palm around to the nape of his neck. Her fingers glided through the silky length of his black-as-midnight hair. The strands were cool, contrasting with the fevered heat radiating from his body and the smoldering intensity darkening his eyes.

She shivered, and before she came to her senses, she pulled his mouth toward hers. His head dipped willingly, without hesitation, and his soft, warm lips settled over hers with a gentleness that threw her plan for a mindless seduction off-kilter. She’d wanted, expected, fast, wild and unemotional. He gave her slow, lazy and tantalizing, catering to her doubts and uncertainties…and the tension thrumming through her.

His large hands stroked down her back, encouraging her closer, making her spine arch until her breasts brushed his wide, hard chest. The delicious friction caused her nipples to tighten and ache. He gripped her hips and slowly pulled her bottom to the very edge of the table, spreading her legs wider and pressing against her until the only thing separating them was heavy denim and cotton leggings.

He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbled on the soft flesh with his teeth, and a moan slipped past her throat before she could catch it. Her mind spun, and her thighs clenched against his lean hips.

“You need to relax,” he murmured against her mouth. She felt her lips gradually soften and part for him. “Yeah, that’s it,” he said, then exerted a more provocative pressure with his mouth. “Now give me your tongue…”

Shivering at the husky, rich tone of his voice, she did as he ordered. Completely meshing their lips, she slid her tongue into his mouth and instantly tangled with his, silky slow and lush with promise. The flavor of hot male and honey glaze from the doughnut he’d eaten overwhelmed her, excited her, and made her melt and relax against him.

Three months ago the kiss they’d shared had been a thrill ride neither one of them had expected, giving them little time to explore and enjoy taste and textures. This time, he was entirely too thorough, incredibly indulgent, and generous in catering to her pleasure.

This languorous kiss, as titillating as it was, suddenly wasn’t enough. The need to be a little bit wild and a whole lot uninhibited swept through her. Framing his jaw in her hands, she opened her mouth wider beneath his and took control before she came to her reliable, responsible senses. The pace of their kiss immediately quickened, grew wetter and deeper and shockingly suggestive as their tongues entwined and stroked and mated.

Amazed that she could feel so physically needy, so intensely aroused so quickly, she gave into the sensations lapping at her feminine nerves, screaming for a more sexually charged contact. Locking her calves at the back of Marc’s muscular thighs, she pulled him even closer, welcoming the heat and pressure of him against her newly aroused, swollen flesh.

Marc groaned deep in his throat, the sound reverberating against her lips, her breasts, her belly, between her thighs. Unable to help herself, she tilted her hips and deliberately rubbed against the hard ridge straining the fly of his jeans. She rubbed sinuously again and gasped as he instinctively pushed back, a slow, purposeful stroke that seemed as intimate as him being inside her.

That shameless friction triggered a rush of dampness, a deep clenching of her body, and stole her breath. Their hot, openmouthed kiss turned ravenous and urgent, and he did it again, sliding rhythmically against her, as if he couldn’t help himself.

Desire rippled through her, coiling tight in her belly. An explosive, wondrous climax beckoned, and she whimpered, struggling between holding on and letting go of those restrictions and good-girl tendencies that had ruled her life for so many years.

And just like the first time they’d kissed, she came to her senses and panicked. Physically, he thrilled her, turning her on faster than any man ever had. But it was the complex emotions he evoked that threw off her balance.

The sound of the snowmobiles approaching the cabin escalated Brooke’s alarm. Wedging her hands between them, she pushed her palms against his shoulders frantically, and he immediately came to his senses and pulled away.

Stumbling back, Marc plopped down in the nearest chair, looking dazed and undeniably aroused. “Wow,” he murmured, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “That was incredible.”

Scrambling down from the table, Brooke pressed her palms to her flaming cheeks, unable to deny his claim. Her body buzzed with unfulfilled desire, throbbing for the climax that had been so, so close. She’d been so primed he could have taken her on the table—and how would she have explained her torrid embrace to her sister, who was only a room away? No doubt Jessica would call her a fool for getting involved with another Jamison, for allowing hormones to reduce her to a mass of nerves and sensations with only a need for ultimate satisfaction on her mind.

What made her believe she could indulge in a mind-blowing kiss with him and not want more?

She shook her head, afraid to think of what might happen with all that volatile passion if they ever made love. Not that she was contemplating getting naked with him! “Marc, we can’t do this.”

“I know,” he agreed, his voice tight and strained. He shifted in his chair to find a more comfortable position. Clearly unable to accommodate the bulge straining the zipper of his jeans, he instead clasped his hands strategically in his lap.

She straightened her sweater with a yank, and nearly groaned as the rasping sensation tantalized her sensitive nipples. “Well, don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

His gaze narrowed perceptively, a spark of Jamison challenge glimmering in his eyes, as if she’d issued him a dare. “You don’t think so?”

“I know so,” she said adamantly.

The sound of Shane’s deep voice and Stacey’s flirtatious laughter drifted from just outside the kitchen door leading to the back area of the cabin. Brooke willed the couple inside, fervently hoping they’d interrupt what had become a very awkward conversation.

Marc glanced at the door, then back at her, knowing his time was limited. “Brooke, two people don’t kiss like that unless there’s a certain chemistry and a strong attraction between them.”

One she couldn’t afford to explore further. Not with him. “Call it a release of sexual frustration. It’s been a long, celibate year for me.”

Irritation creased his expression at her flippant tone. “So you’re insinuating that you would have responded to any man the same way?”

No, she thought miserably, knowing that a faceless stranger wouldn’t have evoked such a startling heat, hunger and need. But that was part of the problem with Marc. She’d never responded so shamelessly, so eagerly to a man in her entire life. Neither Eric nor her one sexual encounter in college had prepared her for this. Marc’s magnetism and appeal seemed to strip away every proper, responsible characteristic she’d honed since the age of thirteen, reducing her to a sensual creature who couldn’t get enough of that blend of excitement and ecstasy Marc’s kisses promised.

She shrugged indifferently, letting the gesture speak for itself, since she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him.

His lips at first pursed, then he opened his mouth to argue—just as the back door opened and Stacey and Shane entered the kitchen, thankfully intercepting his rebuttal.

“That morning ride was incredibly exhilarating!” Stacey said, sounding like a giddy schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush.

Ignoring the extra occupants in the room, Marc swallowed back whatever words he’d been about to impart, but boldly held Brooke’s gaze. Indeed, she couldn’t look away. Through the slight haze of frustration and confusion, his eyes conveyed a startling message—they weren’t finished with this particular issue. And he wasn’t finished with her.

The silent claim he staked caused Brooke’s internal temperature to spike, despite the gust of cool air Shane and Stacey’s arrival had invited into the room. Her traitorous pulse fluttered, stoking the desire simmering just beneath the surface. Did she even stand a chance if Marc followed through with that sexy threat to pursue her?

“Umm, are we interrupting something?” Stacey asked, too much interest infusing her voice.

The last thing Brooke wanted was Stacey speculating over her relationship with Marc, and coming to conclusions she didn’t want to discuss with a woman who had a fearless, fabulous sex life.

Before she could formulate a response, Marc stood, the evidence of what had transpired between them earlier not nearly as obvious now that his body and libido had time to cool. “You’re not interrupting anything that Brooke and I can’t resolve at another time.” Though he answered Stacey, his gaze never wavered from Brooke’s.

In her opinion, there was nothing left for them to resolve. Of course the rogue knew she wouldn’t oppose him with an audience listening in on their debate.

Finally, he glanced at Shane. “You ready to head over to the lodge for the day?”

Shane exchanged a reluctant look with Stacey that made it clear they would have preferred to spend the day together. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Stacey winked at Shane as she casually pulled off her lined gloves. “I’ll catch up with you on the slopes later,” she promised.

The two men left the kitchen, and an unnerving silence settled over the room.

Stacey unwrapped the colorful scarf from her neck, a knowing smile curving lips stung red from the cold. “Well, well, well,” she murmured.

Brooke knew exactly what those three simple words meant, knew precisely what was tumbling through Stacey’s mind. She held up a hand to ward off her friend’s interrogation. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“All right,” Stacey conceded, but her gaze sparkled with mischief and a wicked provocation. “You ready to put last night’s plan into action?”

No. Without the buzz of the margarita giving her courage and with the taste of Marc still lingering on her tongue, going out on a man-hunt held little appeal. But she desperately needed the distraction, and there was always the possibility that flirting with another man, and enjoying his attentions, would make her forget about Marc and that luscious, earth-shattering kiss they shared.

Pulling in a deep breath, she fabricated an optimistic smile. “I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

STACEY NUDGED BROOKE with her elbow and gestured to a good-looking blond-haired guy making his way to the end of the line for the ski lift, where the two of them were waiting their turn.

“What do you think of him?” Stacey asked out of the corner of her mouth. “He has a great body, and a nice smile.”

Brooke tried to regard her friend’s newest quarry objectively, and like every other man Stacey had singled out, she found herself comparing him to Marc, whose body proved to be a perfect fit for hers, and who owned a lazy smile that seemed to stroke her senses as intimately as a caress. This guy’s physique didn’t spark even a glimmer of interest, and his smile was a shade too cocky for her liking. And she was coming to realize that she preferred dark hair over light.