Heart of the Dragon by Deborah Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

scalding, elemental sense of losing himself in her. When he opened his lips, she made a bitter sound of distress but parted her lips for the urgent sweep of his tongue. As she sagged against him, Kash felt his knees weaken with the power of intense, jumbled needs, aching and neglected emotions that wanted to fight their way to the surface.
    Rebecca couldn’t believe she was willingly holding him, that her fear and anger had been reduced to a blinding curiosity about the passion behind his dark eyes. His body was a hard wall and yet amazingly fluid, inviting hers to bend into the taut curve of his belly, the deep swell of his chest.
    She quivered helplessly when his hands slid up her arms and unfurled along the sides of her neck. Tendrils of fire radiated from his fingertips as he brought his palms forward, brushing the center of her throat. Slowly he angled his hands behind her head, sinking his fingers into her hair and tilting her head up, so her mouth met more deeply with his.
    Dragging her hands over his shoulders, she kneaded the hard muscles and felt them flex in response. He was the shadowy force she’d been drawn to all her life; the faceless erotic visitor in her nighttime dreams; the first man who’d ever caused her to forget everything but the primitive need for fulfillment. Her body wanted to curl around his, and every impulse urged her to strain toward him in slow, rhythmic motion.
    He broke the kiss at the same moment that she wrenched her head back. She stared up at him in white-faced disbelief, breathing heavily. He realized that he must look the same way to her. He was holding her shoulders, keeping her away, and she had the same defensive grip on his shoulders.
    “I want you to be all the good and decent things you claim you are,” he said huskily. “I swear that nothing would please me more.”
    She drew shaky breaths, inhaling his musky, masculine scent. “And I wish you had enough faith in human nature to believe I’m not lying about who I am and what I came to Thailand for.”
    “You and I have only one choice. We can study each other and try to learn the truth.”
    “Study each other?” she echoed, frowning. “Don’t mince words. You intend to investigate me, grill me for information, and try to catch me in lies. What were you trying to learn when you kissed me?”
    Regret and anger warred inside Kash. “Just now—the intimacy—it wasn’t planned. In fact, it wasn’t even wise. Congratulations, Ms. Brown, you provoke me in ways no other woman has been capable of. I can’t say I’ve ever been pinched during a passionate embrace—not on the ear, at least.”
    Her expression darkened. In a voice that vibrated she said, “I don’t know how we ended up doing that, but we’re not ever going to do it again.”
    “I started it, but you were trying to prove something. Are you satisfied?”
    “Satisfied that you’re trying to complicate a situation that’s already confused beyond hope. I’ve been kissed before, Santelli, and I’m not a kid. I wanted you to know that.”
    “I think you put too high a premium on kissing. It takes a lot more to prove anything to me. Besides, I already assumed you’d been kissed before. In fact, at your age I hope you’ve done considerably better than that.”
    “At my age?” Her mouth formed an
Oh!
of dismay. She swallowed hard and shook her head in disgust. “Is everyone over the age of consent supposed to have a collection of notches on their bedposts?”
    Kash arched his brows in mock dismay. He was silently trying to believe that a twenty-six-year-old woman in the modern world—even a minister’s daughter,if her story was true—had never gone to bed with a man. He cleared his throat gruffly. “Not a collection, necessarily, but at least a scratch or two.”
    She did a double take and blinked, appearing to grow even more upset. They were plummeting into uncharted territory at dizzying speed. “I believe in keeping my bedroom furniture in