Caught. Kristin HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
like her.
“We said from the beginning it was going to be casual, that when one of us decided things should be over, they’d be over,” she reminded him. That was good. Clear and indisputable.
“I’m just trying to understand.”
“I’ve had some time to think,” she said as carefully as though she were picking her way through the jungle, looking for booby traps, watching for the loop that might tighten around her ankle and whip her up to leave her dangling headfirst from a tree. “What I think is that it’s best for both of us to end this.”
“For us?”
“For me,” she amended, flushing.
“And when did you decide that? This morning?”
“I decided it last weekend. I’ve just been waiting for you to get home.”
“Last weekend, huh?” He rested an elbow against the shelves and scrubbed the other through his hair. “But now, here’s what I don’t get. You let me in last night, right?”
“Yes, but I—”
“And you came to the door in your robe, which didn’t stay on very long.”
“That’s because you—”
“And then you took off my clothes and dragged me down on your living room floor and let me touch your—”
“Skip it.”
“All of this after you supposedly decided we were finito.” His eyes sparkled. “So why was that?”
Because he had a way of making her forget her own name, let alone anything she wanted except him? “It was late, I was tired.”
“You seemed pretty frisky to me. Incidentally, did you find a button on your living room floor? Because you ripped one loose when you were taking my shirt off.”
“Well, if you’d gotten it off faster, I wouldn’t have had to—”
He grinned at her. “Yes?”
Dangling headfirst from a tree. Julia ground her teeth. “I got distracted.”
“I don’t know, you seemed pretty focused to me. I like those noises you make when you’re focused.”
Her eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a joke.”
“I’m not laughing.” He reached out to touch the strands of hair that dangled from her chignon.
Julia jerked her head away. “You’re not listening either.”
“That’s because so far nothing you’ve said has made sense.”
Because he’d talked her in circles to where she couldn’t remember her points anymore. Her very valid points. Back to basics, she decided. “You’re not my type, Alex. And I’m not yours. This was just an…anomaly.”
He shifted. “And when I touch your anomaly, some very interesting things happen.” He reached out to stroke a finger down her throat.
Julia shivered. “I’m down here to work,” she said unsteadily.
“Go right ahead with what you’re doing,” he told her. “I’ll stay out of your way.” But his fingertips continued down, into the deep vee at the front of her jacket.
And her muscles weakened. How had he managed to get so close? She could smell a hint of his aftershave, spicy and clean. She could see the gold flecks in the green of his eyes. And she knew what came next, could already feel the tendril of heat curling between her thighs. It was the wrong thing to do, she knew it.
It was nothing she could stop.
“You’re not the kind of guy I go for,” Julia said, oddly breathless as she leaned into him.
“I can see that,” he answered, sliding his hands down over her hips.
“I like serious men.”
“I’ll buy some glasses.”
“This isn’t going to change my mind,” she warned him, but she’d already slipped her arms around his neck, her fingers up into his hair, because if she didn’t have him inside her, soon, she was going to die.
And then he crushed his mouth into hers.
It shouldn’t have overwhelmed her. For over six months, they’d been sleeping together. Kissing him wasn’t new. She should have been accustomed to it. It shouldn’t have started butterflies whirling in her stomach. It shouldn’t have made her react.
But she caught her breath and shivered at the taste of him.
And he was smiling, dammit, she could feel his lips curve against hers. He pressed her back against the shelves. “I always have had this librarian fantasy,” he murmured, nipping at her lips, dropping his hands down to unfasten the top buttons of her suit jacket. “Papyrus always gets me hot.” Then he filled his hands with her lace-covered breasts.
She couldn’t stop the moan.
She felt the shelves digging into her back, she knew they had no business doing this here, doing it at all. But his body was so hot against hers that she didn’t care. He was hard, she could feel it through his trousers and she twisted against him, wanting more contact, more friction, wanting to dispense with the infuriating barrier of clothing.
With an expert flick he unsnapped the front clasp of her bra, and slipped his hand up over her breast.
The heat, the quick friction was shockingly intimate in the midst of their surroundings. So forbidden. So arousing. Just the night before she’d lain naked against him and yet somehow here in this staid and sedate place, every touch felt like the first. The air was cool against her skin but his hand was hot, so hot. The raw silk of her jacket rubbed against one nipple; his fingers sent bolts of arousal from the other with every brush and squeeze.
It made her feel wild, wanton. It made her ravenous for more.
“God, you drive me crazy,” Alex breathed against her neck, inhaling her scent. What would she do if he told her just how much it turned him on that he could make her lose that calm composure of hers? That with mouth and hands he could turn her wild in his arms despite herself. He’d never guessed back before they’d gotten involved just how much heat was there, how much excitement. He’d never thought that she’d make him dry- mouthed with wanting. Now, just the taste of her throat, the feel of her pulse under his lips had his cock straining for release.
He felt her shiver, felt the rise of goose bumps as he worked his way lower, tasting the hollow at the base of her throat, the fragile skin on the tops of her breasts. Then he went lower still, desire rushing through him as he took her nipple into his mouth, heard her strangled gasp for air as he swirled his tongue around and over the hard little bud, feeling it furl and tighten.
Julia leaned back against the heavy wood shelves feeling only the slick heat of Alex’s mouth, his tongue on one breast, his hand tormenting the other. And oh, he knew what she liked, the rough scrape of teeth amid the slick caresses.
And the tightness, the growing tightness between her thighs where she knew she was growing wet, where she could feel the pulse of blood thudding.
“So just what do you have on under this?” he murmured, sliding his palms down her hips and up under her narrow skirt, using both hands to slide the fabric up, trailing along the silky hosiery beneath until he hit the tops of the thigh-highs she’d begun wearing habitually since they’d been involved. “Oh, honey,” he said explosively.
And then his fingers journeyed higher, slipping under the edge of the silk and lace she wore. He stroked her with a touch that shot through her like fire.
And oh, his hands were persuasive, fingers moving, circling, teasing her clit. She couldn’t get her breath. She clutched him against her because the heat and the pressure and the friction were tightening and