Flirting With Disaster by Sofia Harper Read Free Book Online

small,
but rough, nicks would feel brushing along her clit.
    At that thought, she could drop his
hand.
    “ Is it my turn?” His voice
was still gruff.
    She forced herself to look at him. “For
what?” she asked nervously, because his hazel eyes had
darkened.
    “ Getting to know
you?”
    She was close enough to see his pupils had
dilated. That was her fault. She'd been stroking his hand in the
middle of the town square for a long enough time any man in his
position would have been aroused.
    He didn't look like he should have been
trusted to leave her misstep at that. But this was Dane. She could
accuse him of having some Neanderthal beliefs, but he had
self-control. He was a realist—pigheaded at times—but a man prone
to following passion? No.
    His lids were low and his nostrils flared
when she licked her lips.
    Or was he exactly that kind of man?
    “ Okay,” she said
slowly.
    He shook his head. “For the record, you
started it.”
    “ That's so...”
    Dane wore an expression like he wanted to
drag her off somewhere, and the words died mid-thought. He used the
hand she'd molested to cup the back of her head. There was enough
time to put her palm to his forehead to make sure he wasn't
suddenly feverish and delusional. But her skin was hot, her head a
bit woozy and her heart was going to pound right out of her chest.
This was only the prelude to the kiss.
    He inched forward until his
mouth was right there. He held her gaze, giving her all the time in the damn world to
tell him to stop, to push him away. She wanted to say curiosity got
the better of her, but that would be a lie. A big fat one because
all she wanted was his lips, his tongue.
    He nipped at her bottom lip. Her mouth
tingled at the tease, and then he ran his tongue over the same
spot. She moaned, her mouth parting. Dane shifted and his tongue
delved deeper. Slowly. Just when she was getting used to the
intrusion, he jerked back.
    Dane's brows pulled down. He looked
pissed—as if he were beyond irritated that he wanted to continue to
kiss her. Or annoyed the brief touch hadn’t been enough.
    His grunt sounded frustrated right before he
dragged her to him again. He slanted his mouth over hers and sucked
her bottom lip.
    That's when her brain said, “Nope. I'm done
working.”
    She balled her hands into his sweater in
case he had a thought of pulling away again and looking at her like
he was angry about the kiss. He'd started it, and he damn well
would finish it. He must have understood what her grabbing him
meant—she wasn't exactly shy—because he kissed her like he wanted
to own her. He controlled when she could breathe or moan. He
dictated her actions with his tongue and teeth.
    And when she moaned, he used his mouth as a
reward. When she didn't, he nipped at her again as some twisted
punishment that only made her wetter.
    That's when her brain got
to working, whispering words like more,
now, lower, bite, tongue, deeper . Brooke
couldn't do anything about that.
    His next groan sounded more frustrated than
the last. He drew her closer. Another tug and she'd be on his lap.
She wanted them skin to skin, but she'd take his lap instead. In
the heated moment with him, nothing else mattered, but his mouth
and hands.
    Dane just needed to keep kissing her like he
was hungry for the taste of her. And that he was mad about needing
to taste her.
    Someone cleared their throat, and it wasn't
either Brooke or Dane, because she was moaning, and he'd growled,
low. She shivered. The noise came again and Brooke finally had the
sense to push Dane back.
    Naomi stood behind the bench, her brows up,
a smile on her face. Her friend just looked pleased to watch their
post by-play.
    Brooke glanced at Dane. He looked mussed.
More than once she'd wondered how he'd look disheveled, and the
reality was much better than her imagination. She'd been the
culprit who’d ruffled his expensive sweater—who’d tented his jeans
and put real scruffs on his boots as he did his best to