Last Virgin In California. Maureen ChildЧитать онлайн книгу.
title as the Last Virgin in California.
He climbed in, settled behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. Flipping a few dials, he had the blower going and the rush of air quickly shifting from cool, to warm, to positively toasty.
With the engine purring, she turned toward him and found him staring at her. Those green eyes of his looked stormy, dark with a desire she recognized and shared.
A muscle in his jaw clenched and released. He swallowed hard and said, “Get your seat belt on.”
“In a minute,” she said, leaning closer.
His gaze shifted from her eyes to her mouth and back again. He shook his head. “Don’t be starting this, Lilah. We both know it would be a mistake.” He was saying all the right things, but hunger colored his tone and boiled her blood.
“And we both want it anyway.” She tilted her head and leaned in farther, closer to him. She could almost hear his heart pounding.
He reached up, stroked her cheek with the tips of icy fingers and reaction shimmered up and down her spine. Then he speared his fingers into her hair and pulled her to him.
His mouth came down on hers and stole the last of her breath. Her heart hammered in her chest, her stomach did a quick jig and when he released her, Lilah looked into his eyes and knew without a doubt that this was right.
Even if it was wrong.
Chapter Seven
Outside, the wind was cold and fierce. Trees along the highway twisted and danced in the ocean gusts, bending low, their leaves breaking free and pelting the passing cars like oversized raindrops. But inside the car, heat roared into life and had nothing to do with the blast of forced, warm air rushing from the heater.
Lilah’s heartbeat quickstepped until breathing became a near Olympic sport. Her hands fisted in her lap, she kept her gaze locked on the view through the windshield and told herself she was being foolish. None of this made sense. She wasn’t the type to fall for a Marine, for pity’s sake. Hadn’t she proved that over the years with a succession of failed attempts? Hadn’t every Marine who’d ever crossed her path eventually run for the hills?
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