Don't Tell the Wedding Planner by Aimee Carson Read Free Book Online Page B

cleavage?”
    Several seconds passed before her brain could arrange the words in the right order. “You don’t have man boobs.”
    “Good thing, too.”
    Time seemed to grind to a halt as they both studied each other. And then Matt stepped closer, with goal written all over his face, and the tension returned, ten times worse than before. But this time the air was filled with a sexual charge. Electric currents prickled just beneath her skin and spread, producing goose bumps as they went.
    And her briefly returned ability to speak fled even faster than before.
    “Only problem I see with this scenario?” He grabbed a fistful of fabric just beneath her fitted waist and slowly drew her closer, her pulse picking up speed with every step. “You are way overdressed.”
    Callie tried to protest. “The owner is—”
    “Currently engrossed in a conversation with a customer about the history of Mardi Gras.”
    She blinked, trying to process all the input threatening to blow a fuse in her brain. Too many sparking impulses firing at once. Just the bare torso alone was enough to shove her senses into complete meltdown. But toss in the sight of all that lovely, lovely skin covering muscles and sinew and bone? The rudimentary pants clinging low on lean hips? She could just make out the top of his briefs. Blue.
    Matt continued to slowly pull her forward, until her body finally met his—naked chest to, unfortunately, not naked chest. His eyes zeroed in on her lips, and several thoughts flashed through her brain at once.
    This isn’t why you’re here, Callie. You need to stay focused on the job.
    His mouth covered hers. And just like the focused man who’d hunted her down at the wedding reception, this man was all about the goal, as well. He tipped her head back and his lips pressed in firmly, opening Callie’s mouth wide and taking his time with each retreat. Several deep, wet kisses followed. Forceful, yet unhurried. Heat and moisture and hard lips registered just before his tongue rasped against hers.
    For a brief moment her mind splintered, and she moaned.
    Matt gripped the fabric on the outside of her thighs, settling her legs on either side of his thighs. Unfortunately, the mounds of fabric between them prevented the satisfaction of feeling his hard body pressed against hers.
    “Jesus,” he muttered, arching his hip. “How the hell did people wear these bloody clothes?”
    She gripped his arms, hoping to keep from melting into the floor. The fingers twisted tight in her dress hauled her that last little bit, and she had to adjust her stance to allow his leg to settle between her thighs. Then there was a skitter of pleasure up her spine from the pressure, the fabulously delicious friction...
    My God.
    She closed her eyes.
    “Too bad my brother wasn’t into Space Vixens from the Planet Venus, ” Matt said, nibbling his way from one side of her mouth to the other.
    “Why would you say that?”
    Geez, she sounded so breathless.
    He dove in for another openmouthed kiss, and several mind-spinning seconds later he said, “Because their costumes were smaller. Much smaller.”
    Another drugging kiss consumed her, his tongue hot and demanding and doing unspeakable things to her body. His hand drifted to the small of her back to keep her pressed close. That leg pressed firmly against the part of her anatomy that desired the contact the most.
    And those little rudimentary pants and thin briefs did nothing to hide the hard shaft pressed along her hip.
    The sensation too fabulous to lose, she pulled herself a little higher up his leg, and the slow drag of fabric settled more firmly against the sensitive area between her thighs. Callie let out a whimper.
    Good Lord. She needed to... She had to...
    Matt’s hands landed along her shoulder blades and began to undo those laces he’d worked so long and hard to fasten. As the back of the dress slowly fell open, cool air slid down her skin. The contact sent an illicit thrill skittering up