The Billionaire's Beautiful Intruder (Billionaire Knights Book 3) by Nic Saint Read Free Book Online Page B

Pink and wet and entirely too kissable.
    So he did the only thing that seemed to make sense: he lowered his head and covered her lips with his own, brushing against all that softness. To his surprise she didn’t pucker her lips in affronted anger but opened them, inviting him to probe deeper.
    And then her lips were moving against his, hot and urgent, kissing him right back, her head twisting to accommodate his touch. He cradled her in his arms, slowly and deliberately penetrating her mouth, seeking and finding her tongue in a soft stroke that invoked sensations inside him he hadn’t experienced in the longest time.
    When Steve’s lips brushed against hers, first tentative, then insistent, she knew she should have turned away in annoyance and abhorrence, but she found that his kiss felt too right—too good. Too much like what she needed. So she invited him to take his kiss deeper, invited his tongue to discover, to lap softly against her own. And as she sank deeper into surprised bliss, she felt his hand on her breast, his fingers digging into her flesh, and as his thumb caressed her nipple, raising it into a yearning peak, she was ready for him to explore her body and the sudden heat that churned at her core a whole lot further than propriety allowed.
    God she felt good in his arms, Steve thought. And as he darted kisses along her neckline, tracing and finding that magic spot behind her ear, she arched her back to press herself more firmly against him, shaping herself against his body. The feel of her beneath his touch sent his desire skyrocketing and then he was devouring her tender flesh, her satiny skin, with the hot caresses of his lips. His hands cupped her ribcage, then moved over her breasts, and as he relished in the feel of her soft flesh through the fabric of her shirt, he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked it eagerly, the pink flesh tautening beneath the wet material.
    And then, as his hands moved beneath her shirt, tugging it up, she suddenly, unexpectedly, was fighting him—struggling to be released from his hold, wrenching away his hands. And even as he removed his lips from her breast, he found that she was frantically shaking her head, her hands pushing him away.
    “No!” she was crying, first on a whisper, then louder. “No, no, no, no!”
    It was enough to curdle the blood in his veins and douse his desire as if with a bucket of ice water. Immediately he rose, and stared down at her as she was still wrestling with the attacker she must assume he was. He shook his head, dazed, and anger suddenly lanced through him. She’d wanted him to kiss her—had even cooperated in the kiss, her lips as eager for his touch as his had been for hers. And now this? And as his mood darkened, he recognized what this was. She must have become aware of who he was—what kind of man he was.
    She’d seen his scars, and as her hands had slipped beneath his shirt she must have remembered—remembered the monster he was. Perhaps she’d even become aware of the scars he’d hidden beneath his beard, and the thought of making love to him had filled her with sudden horror. He was a man to abhor, not to yearn for. He was a monster, and she’d rightfully discovered this and had abruptly responded with the revulsion she should have felt from the first.
    He strode away, his mouth a hard line. This would never happen again, he promised himself. What had he even been thinking? Groping a woman like an adolescent schoolboy? He knew better than that. He was better than that.
    Molly watched him stalk off with angry strides and felt her heart constrict. She’d been all right when he’d first kissed her, filled with roseate notions of them being the last people on earth, Adam and Eve in the forest of creation. And momentarily she’d forgotten who she was, what she looked like beneath her clothes. And as she now lifted her shirt gingerly, knowing he was safely out of sight, her fingertip traced the ugly red scar tissue that