The Bachelor's Baby (Bachelor Auction Book 3) by Dani Collins Read Free Book Online Page B

“Bruh-ther.”
    “He’s going to punch me in the jaw if he sees me in town, isn’t he?”
    “No,” she scoffed. “He’s going to show up in about fifteen minutes with his shotgun.” She negated the threat with a shake of her red curls and moved through the ground floor, exploring how he was modifying the sunroom into an office that was open to both the kitchen and a new side door. If it had been daylight, she’d have seen his million-dollar view across his land. For all his business acumen, he’d bought this place because he’d known he’d never tire of the roll of hills, the carpet of trees and the climb of mountains against the wide, changeable sky.
    The fire caught and he closed the screen, moving to the cupboards next to the sink.
    “So… Coffee? Or I have a cabernet franc—no idea of the quality. It was a gift and I don’t really drink wine. Scotch. That’s for medicinal purposes. Tequila—actually, you’re going to think I’m a souse. Look at this.” He opened the cupboard all the way, falling back a step so she could see how full the shelf was. “I was given a lot of bottles from my colleagues when I was leaving. Plus I always liked to have something in my travel bag for the hotel room, even though I hardly ever drank it, so I got in the habit of accepting whatever freebies the airlines offered.” He brought out the shoebox that was overflowing with single-shot bottles of spirits. “I never realized how bad this looks. I could open my own liquor barn.”
    “That’s funny,” she chuckled, coming to stand next to him so she could finger through the miniature bottles. “But I think the real sign of an alcoholic is empty bottles, not full ones.”
    He watched her, admiring yet again how pretty she was. Elegant as a thoroughbred with her fine-boned features and graceful movements.
    Her touch on the bottles slowed. “I should tell you something,” she said, twirling a translucent green bottle like it was a ballerina. “I’m not on anything. So, unless you kept more than alcohol in your travel bag…”
    “I did. Do. Have something.” His voice, his brain, receded into some far off place. His entire awareness narrowed to her shyly down bent face, the speckles of dark brown freckles across her nose, the crackle of the fire. The smell of cinnamon and cloves that hovered in a cloud around her.
    “I’m nervous,” she admitted quietly.
    “Don’t be. If it doesn’t happen…” He didn’t want to think that way. “I’m not going to pressure you,” he soothed, practically hypnotized by the sheepish blue gaze that lifted to his. He cupped the side of her face, fingertips combing into the cool tresses of her ginger hair, downy warmth filling his palm. “But I do want to kiss you again.”
    She let go of the bottle so it clinked lightly against the ones in the box and lifted her hand to his shoulder, angling herself into him, lifting her mouth in invitation…
    He reminded himself that he’d just promised not to rush her, but it was hard. He was hard. The semi-arousal he’d been trying to ignore since this morning, when he started wondering if he’d see her again, pulled to demanding attention. His scalp tingled and his lungs felt tight. He kissed her with as much control as he could manage when arousal was blinding him. When she tasted like something heady and drugging.
    A little noise escaped her throat and she leaned closer.
    He pivoted so his back was to the counter and pulled her with him, smoothing his hands around to her back and learning the shape of her. Her sweater was duckling soft. His hands slid easily over the warm knit, shaping athletic muscles that flexed in response to his touch. He opened his legs, hitching a bit lower so they were closer in height and her stomach came in firm contact with his aching erection.
    With a gasp she pulled away. “Let’s rush,” she breathed.
    A sharp laugh cut the back of his throat while his brain could barely grasp a coherent thought.