by Rice, Heidi
That was fair enough, she thought. Cagey, but fair.
Letting go of his hand, she glanced down at his suitcase. ‘Put your case down.’
‘That’s it?’
She nodded. ‘That’s part of it.’
He dropped the case, looking confused and wary…and tense.
Maybe he already suspected what she was going to ask. Was already preparing to refuse.
Too late to back out now, Bree. If he leaves you hanging, so be it.
Rising on tiptoes, she placed her hands on his cheeks, felt the rough stubble abraiding her palms, the muscle twitching in his jaw. She pulled his head down slowly, until those sensual lips that had kissed every part of her, bar one, were so close she could study the wide dip in the top lip, the small scar on his chin, the tiny creases of the laughter lines at the side of his mouth. Even though he wasn’t laughing now, his mouth a thin line of tension.
‘Can I kiss you?’
He stiffened, drew in a sharp breath, but he didn’t draw back. His gaze searched her face, and then the tension seemed to release in a rush, his warm breath fluttering over her face. And he gave the tiniest inclination of his head.
But it was enough.
Her tongue darted out and she licked the seam of his closed mouth, rejoicing in his laboured breathing, before she pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was unbearably tender, unbearably chaste at first, his hands hanging limp by his sides as she held his cheeks. Her heart thumped so hard against her ribs she was sure he could feel it battering the front of his shirt, where her breasts pressed against his chest. But she continued to lick, to coax, to taste, and waited. Waited.
And then, suddenly his breath sighed out, his mouth opened and his hands rose to clasp her cheeks and angle her head. She opened her mouth and his tongue delved at last. Exploring, tasting, devouring, in long frantic licks, like a man dying of thirst, who was glugging down his first cold drink of water in a lifetime of want.
She strained towards him, her tongue tangling with his, dancing forward and then holding back, boldly beckoning him forth. His hands strayed down to grip her shoulders, to wrap around her back and then grasp her buttocks as he clung to her, forcing the hard ridge of his erection into her belly.
But while arousal blasted through her system, where their mouths joined it felt like so much more. The connection as intense, and painful and desperate as anything she’d ever experienced. His kiss was devastating, delicious, and yet so needy and new.
Her heart blossomed, giddy with pleasure, and somehow her dazed mind, giddy with love, knew this was a first for him. He’d never kissed another woman like this before.
She dimly registered the car’s wheels crunch to a stop beside them, and then the car door slammed. She jolted in his arms, and he lifted his head at last. They both gasped for breath, their breathing ragged, as his forehead touched hers, and his hands caressed the soft skin of her spine in slow circles.
‘Fuck, you’re good at that,’ he muttered against her lips, then nipped at her bottom lip.
His fingers threaded into her hair, framing her face, as he lifted his head to gaze down. Her skin felt raw, but not as raw as the emotion rising up her throat when his knuckles skimmed across her chin. ‘I’ve marked your face. Beard burn. I should have shaved.’
Her lips tipped up, her heart swelling to bursting. ‘Branded me again, huh?’
His lips quirked in a gorgeous smile, his eyes bright with humour and something even more exhilarating. ‘I guess.’
‘Excuse me, sir. Shall I put this in the boot for you?’
Connor’s head turned at the quiet inquiry from the chauffeur, who was standing at a discreet distance. He gave his head a little shake, as if he’d forgotten where he was for a moment. ‘Yeah, great, thanks.’
The man gave a polite nod and set about putting his luggage in the truck. A light breeze brushed over Sabrina, pebbling the skin on her arms and making her painfully aware that she was standing out in the driveway with no shoes on, no knickers on and the thin satin of her maid of honour dress moulded by the breeze to her bullet-tipped nipples.
But when his attention returned to her and she opened her mouth to say that final goodbye, the joy at their embrace fading fast, he placed a palm on her cheek.
‘I’ve got a favour to ask you now.’
She closed her mouth, folded her arms across her chest to contain the sudden surge of anticipation. ‘Okay.’
She tried to swallow down the joy, the hope, the giddy rush of possibilities. They’d shared one hand grope in a restaurant, one cheeky sexting session, one endless night of hot, dirty, sweaty, mind-blowing sex, and a really spectacular, mind-altering kiss. But that was all they’d shared. And all they probably ever could share.
Because they lived on different continents, led conflicting lives. Because she still needed stability, security, safety—as well as hot, sweaty dirty mind-blowing sex—while he never even used the R word in jest. The prospects really didn’t look that promising when you considered their situation with any degree of pragmatism or practicality.
But then he said: ‘Come to New York with me. We’ve got a week before you have to go back to work. Let’s see where we’re going with this? Cos it doesn’t feel like it’s over to me.’
And then the weirdest thing happened: her mind stalled, completely, and her swelling, beating, frantically happy heart took over.
Fuck practically and pragmatism. If there was one sure thing the past week had taught her, sometimes you just had to go with the flow
She laughed, flung her arms round his neck, bounced up on her toes and kissed him hard.
He kissed her back, then held her waist, chuckling down at her. ‘I’m gonna take that as a yes.’
She nodded, her heart too full to speak.
‘Then put a damn fire under it.’ He swotted her bottom, the sharp slap sending the now very familiar sizzles migrating all over her body, and whipped his iPhone out of his pocket. ‘You’ve got ten minutes to pack while I book you a ticket.’
‘Oh, shit. I’ll never make it.’
But as she shot round, preparing to race back into the hotel and grab as much of her stuff as she could cram into her suitcase in ten minutes, his arm whipped out and he snagged her wrist.
‘Just one more thing.’ He dragged her back, tucked a knuckle under her chin and kissed her again. Clearly he was becoming a bit addicted to the sensation. She liked it, as well as the naughty glint in his eyes when he murmured into her ear, ‘Don’t bother to pack your panties. You won’t need them.’
She stepped back, fluttering her eyelashes at him, and grinned through the blush lighting up her cheeks. ‘Nothing doing, big boy.’
The naughty glint became a wicked twinkle. ‘I really hope you’re not planning to disobey me, Sabrina,’ he said in that deep, husky voice, that he had to know by now made every pulse point in her body throb in unison.
‘Well, now,’ she said, taking careful steps backwards, out of his reach. ‘That’s for me to know and you to wet your pants wondering about, isn’t it.’
‘Goddamn it.’ He made a dive for her and missed as she turned to run.
She was still laughing ten minutes and five seconds later as the limo sprayed pebbles across the lawn, speeding off to the airport—and Connor set about finding out the answer.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bestselling author Heidi Rice lives in London, England. She is married with two teenage sons (which gives her rather too much of an insight into the male psyche) and also works as a film journalist. She adores her job which involves getting swept up in a world of high emotions, sensual excitement, funny feisty women, sexy tortured men and glamourous locations where laundry doesn’t exist. Once she turns off her computer, she often does chores (usually involving laundry!).
Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon
ISBN: 978 1 472 06072 3
10 WAYS TO HANDLE THE BEST MAN
© 2014 Heidi Rice
Pu
blished in Great Britain 2014
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
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