Falling for the Guy Next Door by Claire Robyns Read Free Book Online Page B

beneath her breast, his thumb thrumming whorls
of agonising pleasure over her exposed nipple. His tongue plunged
hard and deep in possessive strokes that mimicked the slow rocking
motion of his hips that dragged friction between her thighs. A hot
ache spread wild and fast. Too much. Not enough. The same fever
pulsed in his veins. It was in the urgency of his deep exploration
and his ragged breaths when he pulled out to alternate with
slanting kisses that caught and tugged at her lower lip.
    This was what
she’d wanted. What she’d needed for so, so long. To tingle, crash
and burn…burn for him.
    Suddenly a
wall of laughter, music and chattering slammed into the piece of
night they’d stolen for themselves. Jack’s next slanted kiss slid
all the way off her lips as he pulled away.
    She bit down
on a cry of frustration and glanced over her shoulder to see two
couples spilling from the pub’s rear entrance. They strolled in the
direction of the far side of the field, but it was too late. She
felt Jack withdraw from her even before the delicious warmth of his
hand left her breast. There was a sense of iron control to his
movements as he stepped back and slid her gently, firmly to her
feet.
    He took
another step back and folded his arms. He might as well have hung a No Right Of Way sign around his neck. The passionate high
drained through her confused hormones, leaving her breathless and
slightly dazed.
    “Are you
okay?” he asked softly, raw hunger straining at the determination
set in his jaw.
    No, she wanted
to scream. With shaky fingers, she adjusted the cup of her bra and
did up her buttons. Her eyes searched his, trying to understand
what had changed. Her throat went dry. “Oh, God, you seriously
meant it when you said this was a mistake.”
    “You’d think
so too, if you hadn’t…”
    “If I
hadn’t…?” Understanding finally came to her. “You think I’m drunk
and don’t know what I’m doing!”
    “Not drunk.”
He gave a wry grin. “But you’ve had enough wine to lower your
inhibitions.”
    This just got
better and better. “I don’t need lowered inhibitions in order to
enjoy sex for the sheer hell of it.”
    “You do when
you’re still mad at me from the last time you indulged.”
    “Don’t flatter
yourself,” she snorted, cursing both his arrogance and the truth.
No way could he ever find out that she’d barely looked at another
man since that night, let alone been tempted. He’d make mincemeat
of that, season it with leftovers from her pride and feed it to his
commitment phobia. “I’ve indulged plenty since.”
    His arms
unfolded. He pushed his hands through his hair, then brought them
down and hitched his thumbs in the belt of his jeans. “Would you
care to state a number?” he asked casually.
    Too casually.
The suggestion that he might give a damn bristled the hairs at her
nape. The scowl riding his brows and the intensity of his gaze
unwound the anger she’d coiled for the night. This primate ‘you’re
my girl’ thing he had going on was so typical Jack and such a load
of shit. She knew first hand that his actions seldom lived up to
his attitude.
    “After you,
Jack.” Her smile was sickly sweet and something that felt a lot
like panic clawed at her belly. She did so not want to hear this
answer. But now the question was out there, and a darkness inside
her, compelling her to press on. “A rough estimate will do. Ten?
Twenty?”
    He remained
silent. The pause seemed to stretch to infinity and then he pulled
out that grin that eased his scowl and dimpled his cheek and turned
her knees to butter. Her breath caught and the rest of her ached
for what she’d started and he refused to finish.
    Why wouldn’t
he take what she offered and call it his lucky day? She hadn’t been
generating that heat all on her own. He’d been hot, hard and
pulsing between her thighs with no good reason to back down.
    All the angst
and over-thinking was her style, not his.
    Oh! She glared
at him,