The Bronzed Hawk by Iris Johansen Read Free Book Online Page A

kisses.
    He chuckled. “Yes, you do,” he said softly. “I can feel you tremble in my arms. You want it just as much as I do, sweetheart, and God knows I’ve been in a fever for you since you barged into my apartment yesterday afternoon.” His hands moved up the front of her jacket and found the zipper at the collar. With one swift stroke the jacket was open, and his hands closed on her high, firm breasts.
    “No, you’re wrong!” she cried desperately. His hands were warm through the thin cotton of her shirt, and even as she spoke the words of rejection, she felt herself succumbing to the slow, gentle kneading motion. “I don’t want this,” she said weakly.
    “I love these bouncy little curls of yours,” he whispered burying his lips in her hair. “Yourhair is like silky, golden fleece. I bet those curls would wind themselves around my finger and cling like a lover’s embrace if I buried my hands in them. Would they do that, Kelly?”
    “Yes,” she gasped, feeling as if her bones were melting as his hands continued their sensual massage of her breasts. “No!” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I wish you’d stop that.” She wondered bewilderedly why she wasn’t struggling to be released.
    “You don’t like it?” he asked. “I guess I’ll have to find something you do like, sweetheart.” Suddenly he stepped back and turned her into his embrace, his arms binding her soft curves to his lean, hard body. “I like this better, too,” he said hoarsely. “God, you’re so soft and sweet against me. See how beautifully you fit in my arms?”
    She did see, she thought dreamily. It seemed so unbelievably right to be so close to him. He was right, their bodies did flow together. His head bent toward her lips with the infinite slowness one would use in tempting a frightened bird to one’s hand, and when they covered her own, shefound that the merging was as inevitably right as the fit of their bodies.
    O’Brien took his time with the leisurely expertise he would have employed in the tasting of a fine wine. He brushed and nibbled at her lips before taking them in a long, lingering kiss of dizzying sweetness.
    “God, wasn’t that terrific, love?” Nick murmured hoarsely. He was as breathless as she, the pulse beating rapidly in the hollow of his throat. “It’s going to be fantastic between us.” Without waiting for her reply, his lips compulsively moved back to hers. “Sweet, so sweet. Open your lips, I want to taste every bit of you, sweetheart.”
    Oh, and she wanted to taste all of him, too, she found. Her mouth parted eagerly to invite his tongue to explore, and her own tentative probing proved almost more than she could stand. Everything about him was clean and hot and wonderfully, solidly male. She felt as if she were being absorbed in him. Her lips, tongue, and every nerve in her body responded to the molten challenge he was offering.
    She didn’t know at what point they sank to their knees on the floor of the gondola or when he pulled her across his lap to cradle her in his arms. She was too absorbed in the silky feel of his dark hair between her fingers and the rapid throb of his heart against her breast. His breathing was shallow, and he was whispering erotic praise between their passionate kisses. She could feel the muscles of his thighs tense and harden beneath her, and she was vaguely conscious of his tremendous arousal. His blue eyes were blazing brilliantly in a face taut with desire. The mouth that was driving her weak with need was beautifully soft and sensual.
    Then his hands were moving frantically at the buttons of her olive blouse and the front closure of her bra beneath it. He pushed the restricting material aside impatiently and looked down at her full, high breasts. “Damn, you’re lovely,” he said huskily, his chest moving almost painfully with the force of his breathing. His palms reached out to cup her breasts tenderly. “I was almost hoping you wouldn’t be