Game For Anything. Cara SummersЧитать онлайн книгу.
of lowering his mouth to hers, of taking just one taste. His hands had already gone to her waist. Her lips were only inches from his, and…
No. He should end this right now, simply set her aside and walk away. While he was trying to get his body to follow orders, she rose on her toes and her mouth was even closer. “I’ll make it easy for you.”
The whisper of her breath on his skin was nearly his undoing.
“You can go first. Ask me anything,” she invited.
He couldn’t imagine the snake in the Garden of Eden being any more persuasive. He could feel his blood draining from his head.
“I’ve got it. You’ve been following me all over Georgetown—every single time I’ve gone out with John Landry. I’ll bet there’s something you want to know about him—something that even you haven’t been able to uncover. Wouldn’t you like to know what my plans are so that you can tell Lucas? Aren’t you wondering if I’m in love with him?”
“Are you in love with him?” The question slipped out before he could prevent it. It had been eating away at him like acid since she’d first started dating John Landry. Everything about the man had checked out. He came from wealth, the steady, deep-pocket kind that was handed down from one generation to another. His family tree was good, too; on his mother’s side, he was related to an earl. Sophie had met him on one of her buying trips, and he was interested in antiques. In short, he was perfect for her. Tracker had told Lucas as much.
Sophie’s lips curved into a smile. “I’m going to pass on that one.”
“Pass?”
“I choose not to answer the question. So you can collect your penalty.”
Now there was a mixture of amusement and recklessness in her eyes—and something else that had his body growing even harder. “You weren’t going to answer any question I asked, were you?”
She grinned at him. “That’s another question and you haven’t even collected the penalty for the first one. Unless…” The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. “You’re too much of a coward to collect?”
“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured as he tightened his arms around her and pressed her closer until their bodies were in contact from thigh to chest. He could have sworn that he felt her soften against him, one tantalizing degree at a time. The pulse at her throat fluttered frantically as he watched those incredible amber eyes darken and cloud.
Her response to him stirred him almost unbearably, and it occurred to him that he was the one playing with fire. Her mouth was barely an inch away, her lips parted and moist. His breath was already mingling with hers. One taste, just one, and perhaps he could satisfy the terrible hunger….
Later, he wasn’t sure who closed the distance between them, but suddenly her mouth was brushing against his. For one second, he was sure that the floor shifted beneath his feet, and then the flood of sensations washed every thought out of his mind. Each one was so clear. Her hands burned his skin as they moved from his neck to his hair. Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip and then her tongue tangled with his. He’d dreamed so often of what her taste would be like. But it was different—much sweeter than he’d imagined. And the underlying hint of tartness reminded him of lemonade on a hot summer day. He’d never been able to drink enough of it to quench his thirst. A quick surge of desperation had him changing the angle of the kiss and taking it deeper. There were richer, riper flavors beneath her tongue, and he had to sample them all.
He had to touch her, too. In a quick possessive move, he ran his hands from her waist to the sides of her breasts. He’d waited forever to have his hands on her. She was so much softer than he’d fantasized. His mind clicked off and, instead of analyzing, became filled with the image of that slim, strong body beneath his, meeting him thrust for thrust.
DESPERATION. Sophie felt it in the hard grip of his hands and tasted it in the hard thrust of his tongue. Pleasure streamed through her in a series of sharp little explosions. And she wanted—no, she craved—more.
As a dream lover, he’d been gentle, caring—and he’d never taken her this far. Desire burned as hot and reckless as a bonfire out of control. Her heart pounded as if it might shoot right out of her chest. And her mind—it seemed as if the sensations pouring through her were causing it to short-circuit.
Questions spun in her head in random order. Why had she waited for a whole year to seduce him? Why had she chosen to do it on a dance floor in front of other people? Why, why didn’t they go somewhere else fast?
Inching up even higher on her toes, she tightened her arms around his neck and shifted her hips against him. She felt the moan he gave in response in every pore of her body, and felt the hard press of his erection against her stomach. She was trying to get closer still when his hands gripped her wrists. He untangled her arms from around him, one then the other, and once he’d freed himself, he gently eased her away.
At first she was only aware of the coolness of the air on her skin and a sense of loss. She took a deep breath and found that her lungs were burning. And it didn’t help one bit that Tracker was still looking at her as if he wanted nothing more than to devour her. “Why did you stop?”
“Damn it, Princess. Look around you.”
The moment she did, reality flooded in. She’d completely forgotten that they were standing at the edge of the dance platform, barely an arm’s length away from gyrating couples.
Someone cleared his throat. “Mind if I cut in?”
2
IT TOOK A MINUTE for the question to register in his mind, and another minute for Tracker to gather enough of his scattered wits to recognize the man who’d spoken: John Landry, the perfect match for Sophie Wainwright.
Yes, I mind. The words formed in his mind, but he managed to keep them from reaching his lips. He also managed to keep from shoving the man off the platform. Past Landry’s shoulder, he could see couples were still dancing, and reality slipped fully into focus. One taste of Sophie and he’d nearly lost all control. He’d nearly taken her right on the dance floor. What had he been thinking?
“Sophie? Are you all right?” Landry asked.
Tracker glanced at her. She looked as shaken as he felt. More than anything, he wanted to reach out, draw her into his arms and just hold her. He might have if Landry hadn’t reached out and taken her arm.
“Sophie.” Mac nudged her way past two couples to join them. Giving Landry a quick smile, she said, “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow my maid of honor. Just a little fashion emergency. It won’t take long.” She shot an apologetic smile at both John Landry and Tracker before she grabbed Sophie’s hand and drew her off the dance floor.
Lucas was grinning from ear to ear as he joined the two men. “Mac needs a little help with her wardrobe. Shouldn’t take long, Landry. Then Sophie will be all yours.”
Over my dead body. The thought sprang to Tracker’s mind before he could stifle it. He hoped to God that he hadn’t said it out loud.
“No problem,” John Landry said. “I’ll just help myself to a drink.”
Tracker kept his eyes on the man until he was off the dance floor.
“I sense a little hostility in the air,” Lucas said. “Mac and I are happy that Sophie is dating again, but if you’ve discovered something about Landry I should know…”
Tracker studied his friend, but there wasn’t any sign that Lucas had seen him kiss Sophie. Good, he told himself. The kiss had been a mistake—one he wasn’t going to repeat. “No. Landry’s background checks out. There’s nothing to show that he’s after Sophie’s money.”
Jealousy had a bitter, coppery taste, Tracker discovered. Landry was the perfect man for Sophie; he wasn’t. That simple fact had been a lot easier to live with before he’d kissed her. Ruthlessly, he shoved