Secret Games. Jeanie LondonЧитать онлайн книгу.
did her voice sound almost normal, she actually felt better. “Pink’s one of my better colors.”
Sam gave her hand a quick squeeze, before dragging her onto the next display, and then the next. By the time they reached the men’s undergarments and saw the briefs that proudly proclaimed one double entendre after another, their wisecracks had grown so raucous and loud that they drew the saleswoman’s attention.
“Can I help you with anything?” she asked with a knowing smile, as though they weren’t the first couple to come unglued in her establishment.
“We’re just looking, thanks.” Sam edged Maggie toward the door, while whispering, “Candy condoms. Not good for protection—”
“But a very tasty treat,” she finished.
They’d barely made it to the promenade and out of earshot before dissolving into gales of laughter.
The ice was broken. Maggie felt back in control again.
“Thanks,” she said, gulping air and massaging the stitch in her side.
“You’re welcome.”
He didn’t even have to ask what she referred to, and that’s how it always was between them, natural, relaxed. That was her strongest reason for asking Sam to come to Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast—who else could make her feel comfortable while she observed sexual interaction between couples?
Only Sam.
“Ready to head upstairs?” he asked.
Her tummy did that crazy swooping thing again, but Maggie ignored it. “Let’s go.”
But once they were sealed inside the elevator and headed toward the fifth floor, their antics in the sex shop became a distant memory in the shadow of Sam’s six-foot-plus presence, swallowing up all the air in the cramped space.
“We really should talk, Sam. Some sort of game plan. Don’t you think? We should have an idea of how to go about everything, and you need to know exactly what I’m looking for.” The words tumbled from her lips in a rush he couldn’t possibly have understood.
But whether Sam understood her words or not seemed moot, because the elevator suddenly ground to a halt, somewhere between the third and fourth floors.
“Ohmigosh, what happened?”
“Looks like elevator trouble,” he said unnecessarily. “Probably just a glitch. This is an old hotel. I’m sure we’ll be moving in a minute, but in the meantime…”
Maggie’s surprise died a swift death as Sam crowded her against the paneled wall.
The elevator’s lights threw misty shadows across his face, made it appear changed, so very different from the man she’d known forever. He had her off center, and her impulse was to laugh and push him away, put things back to normal between them. But there was nothing normal about the boldness in his gray eyes. Her laughter dissolved in her throat.
“Sam, what—what are you doing?” she asked, a feeble attempt to regain control over this crazy moment, to sidestep his unexpected move.
He arched a dark brow, visual confirmation that she should be able to guess what he had planned, even if she chose to deny it. He let her coat drop to the floor with a soft whoosh. It lay at their feet unheeded. Indeed, how could she heed anything but the strong fingers he slipped around her neck?
His touch was so warm, so startling, she could only stand there motionless. As far as touches went, this one should have been innocuous. They were standing in an elevator and he was only touching her neck, after all, but Maggie could feel the warmth of his fingers as though each had been dipped in hot wax.
When he hooked his thumbs beneath her chin and nudged her face upward, Maggie’s breath shuddered audibly. She caught the slight smile curving Sam’s mouth as his face lowered toward hers. Then dark silk hair and faint traces of aftershave kicked her senses into overdrive as his lips grazed her ear.
“I’ve got a good idea how to go about everything, and I know exactly what I’m looking for.”
His voice was husky and sure, and she mouthed a silent, “Oh,” while her knees turned to jelly.
She could only stare, waiting for him to back off now that he’d delivered his powerful message. He didn’t. His breath lingered around her ear, doing crazy things to her insides, urging the breath to remain clamped tightly in her chest.
He traced her lips with his thumbs, deliberately, purposefully, as though he’d wanted to touch them forever and that alone gave him the right.
But that couldn’t be. This was Sam. He may have tried to segue their friendship into romance once upon a time, but Maggie knew he’d only been experiencing a knee-jerk reaction to their closeness. They’d known each other for so long that testing out the romantic waters had seemed the next logical step.
And even if he had wanted to try sparks for a while, he’d been just as content to go back to their friendship. Hadn’t he?
Yes!
He simply hadn’t dated in a while and was caught up in the sensual atmosphere. That was all. She needed a favor, and as always, he’d been willing to help. He was also getting a weekend away in the mix. Though he’d insisted on making the reservation, Maggie fully intended to cover the cost of the suite at checkout. This wasn’t a date; it was a favor.
And this was Sam, she reminded herself desperately. Sam her best friend. Sam who couldn’t possibly know she’d entertained a few fantasies about him through the years. Sam who was suddenly trailing a path along her jaw with his warm velvet mouth. Sam who was suddenly kissing her.
The world as Maggie had known it swerved off-kilter.
His mouth was hot, sweet…intense.
And demanding. He deepened his kiss with a bold stroke of his tongue, and suddenly, without consciously willing it to happen, Maggie was kissing him back.
Their tongues tangled and teased, as effortless as getting wet in the rain. His warm breath caressed her mouth and that crazy swooping in her tummy rippled like a steamy wave downward, puddling between her legs. The ache, as unbidden as it was unexpected, made Maggie gasp.
Catching the sound with his kiss, Sam apparently considered her reaction an invitation to press on with his lusty assault, because he speared his fingers into her hair and tipped her head slightly, demanding even more.
Another gasp slipped from Maggie’s lips, only this gasp sounded more like a sigh.
Suddenly, she was sliding her arms around his neck, drawing their bodies close, until every muscle and ridge of his body pressed hard against hers. His legs braced wide, drew her into the cradle of his thighs, anchored her there, two bodies melting together, sharing the rhythm of sprinting heartbeats.
His hands traveled her neck in a downward path, unhurried, exploring, so intensely intimate for the way he savored their closeness, secured her against him. The shield of clothing proved a ridiculous barrier as his body heat warmed her, cajoled a responding warmth that weighted her breasts, drew her nipples tight, urged her to press even closer.
Maggie didn’t resist the urge, couldn’t, because each demanding stroke of his tongue chased away all thoughts, focused her on the fact that he was quite enjoying the moment, too. The rock-hard bulge pressed against her tummy only proved it….
When he drew away, his mouth lingering long enough to reveal his reluctance to go, Maggie just stood there, eyes closed and body vibrating, stunned by his kiss and by her own powerful reaction.
Wow.
Blinking open her eyes, she found him smiling down at her, his satisfaction unmistakable.
He’d leveled her with that kiss, and he knew it.
Pointing to an ornament of Cupid hanging from the rafter overhead, he smiled as though the mischievous son of Venus had been responsible for his crazy behavior.