Taboo (A Classic Romance) by Mallory Rush Read Free Book Online Page B

his lap. Her bottom was pressed against the strain of his groin, and she thought she might die of the urgency of her answering want. Before she could try to stanch her instincts, he wrapped strong arms around her, pulling her close, tucking her head into the crook of his neck while pressing her right breast against his chest.
    It was the scent she had longed to inhale just this close, and she fought not to press her lips against his throat, not to thread her fingers through his hair and bring his mouth to hers. The best she could seem to do was nuzzle into his neck, keeping herself from giving in to an action she couldn't take back.
    "Oh, Lord," he groaned. "It's killing me, Cammie. I've been dying by inches wanting you so much for so long; I can't ever remember not wanting you. Say you want me too."
    "No," she whispered, trying desperately, futilely, to run from the truth.
    He pushed his hips upward, against her. A sob of frustration caught in the back of her throat. She clutched at his shoulders as her body betrayed her and moved in counterpoint, seeking to soothe the unbearable ache.
    She heard the vibration, felt it against her lips, as he moaned in response. His breath rushed hot against her hair as he worked his mouth into the thickness and brought a hand up to stroke the mass of curls.
    Her scalp tingled while her heart hammered against his chest. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart answering hers, and she pressed closer until they meshed, until she didn't know which was his and which was hers because they seemed to beat as one.
    At first, the caress was so light, she didn't realize it was he causing the rise of her nipple, not until he increased the pressure to a rhythmic, insistent thrum.
    Then he was freely stroking her breast until she thought she might go mad with the delicious pleasure. She didn't cry out from the near hurt of her straining nipples, but he was only making the throb between her thighs worse by moving against her, retreating, and arching up again. And she was grinding herself against him, because she couldn't help herself if her life depended upon it.
    His hand stroked slow and deliberate over her knee, then up, up, between her thighs. Silently she cursed the jeans she wore for muting his already scalding touch. When she should have been closing tight her knees, she allowed her senses to revel in the spiraling sensation of his palm pressing over her mound, fingers curling into a possessive grip.
    "Grant," she sobbed. "Grant."
    "It's not enough. Sweet heaven, I've waited so long, it's just not enough."
    Suddenly she felt him leave her and she wanted to weep for the loss, but then there was the press of his fingers releasing the button, and the hiss of her zipper as he rapidly slid it down.
    What was she doing? she wondered frantically. What was she letting him do? Oh, Lord, Lord, she couldn't be letting this happen. But she was, she was someone else, someone she'd never been before, pleading for the crime, for the release, and not caring about tomorrow or who might be hurt in the process.
    "No," she whimpered suddenly. "No, don't..."
    "Yes. Oh, God, yes ..."
    And he did. He pushed past the lace of her panties, groaning as he touched the forbidden texture of her hidden curls. Then he slid his fingers between the folds of her flesh and the cloth of her pants.
    Her breath hissed between her clenched teeth, and she cried out at the overwhelming sensation. If she died now, she knew it would be worth it just to embrace this taste of ecstasy at long last.
    His fingers slid back and forth against her wetness, and she knew in that instant that if he breached the barrier, she would beg him to make love to her. She was mad with wanting him. Just as she had to be mad to allow what was happening, because she was so far gone, if they didn't stop now there would be no stopping.
    "Cammie... Cammie ... touch me ..."
    Outwardly, she was shivering. Internally, she was contracting and grasping only emptiness, and