Twilight's Encore by Jacquie Biggar Read Free Book Online Page B

breasts, there wasn’t a spot he didn’t crave to relearn. He loved the little breathy catch, then sigh, she did every time he came to a particularly sensitive area. Like now, when his fingers spread out over her ribcage while his thumbs lightly tweaked hardened nipples.
    His lips worked a path along her jawline to the shell of her ear, and he smiled when her head fell back to grant him more access. He well remembered her sensitivity to this erogenous zone on her body. Her skin was velvety soft, nearly translucent. He could almost feel the blood pulsating through her veins beneath his lips. His own heart throbbed in response, speeding along his cells to pound a message to his engorged cock. Take her, take her now.
    His arm swept out and shoved the salad bowl aside. Ignoring her startled gasp, he lifted her onto the counter and edged between her legs.
    “Ty,” she hesitated, her hands on his shoulders to hold him at bay. “We shouldn’t.”
    Caught in a cloud of lust, it took him a bit to comprehend her words, and a much longer moment to admit the validity. His head dropped and he heaved a frustrated sigh.
    Her hand came up and brushed gentle fingers through his hair, and he leaned into her touch, helpless to resist.
    “Ty, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on.” He raised his head and met her worried gaze. A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “On the kitchen counter? Really?”
    He laughed, then groaned at her bemused expression. Time to step back before he showed her just how possible it could be. He leaned forward and gave her one last, lingering kiss, then turned back to his now overdone noodles. Yep, there had to be a metaphor in there somewhere, for sure.
    “If you set the table, I’ll finish up in here.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she made it off the counter safely, just in time to see her dress ride up her thighs as she levered herself down. And there it was, that tempting little swan-shaped birthmark of hers. He’d teased her about it often enough. That it was their private spot, a secret only they—and her parents—knew about. Guess that wasn’t true anymore.
    Angry with himself for still giving a shit, Ty grabbed for the pot of pasta, remembering too late that he needed potholders. The heat from the steel handles sizzled against his palms. “Ouch, shit,” he swore, and let go. The liquid sloshed, hissing as it hit the hot burner.
    “What happened? Are you okay?” Katy’s worried tones as she rushed to his side only embarrassed him. What a lame-brained thing to do. If a bare leg was all it took to ruin his concentration he was in trouble. Ty refused to admit it was anything more than that; he couldn’t afford to get sucked into Katy’s orbit again. He still hadn’t recovered from the last time.
    “I’m fine.” He grimaced as she turned his hands over and examined the deep red slashes embedded in his palms.
    “Oh, Ty, that looks painful.” Her finger lightly traced the outer edge of the mark, leaving its own brand upon his skin. “I think you should run some cold water over them. Do you have any burn salve?”
    She led him to the sink and turned on the tap before guiding his hands beneath the spray. His arms jerked with the shock of cold against overheated flesh.
    Shit, that hurts.
    “I think there’s some in the bathroom cabinet, but I’ll be fine.” After you leave. Nothing a good shot of whiskey couldn’t cure, except he was trying to quit. Oh well, tomorrow was another day.
    “Don’t be silly. I’ll be right back. Keep your hands under there, okay?” She waited for his nod before letting go to slip from the room.
    Now he was going to have to handle her playing Nurse Nightingale on him, was this night never going to end? Ty just wanted to lick his wounds, literally and figuratively, alone. He’d liked the thought of having her in his home, but now was almost sorry he’d invited her. How could he ever look at that counter again without picturing her