Read Online A Bride For Abel Greene by Cindy Gerard - Free Book Online
Authors: Cindy Gerard
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unplanned lapse of purpose, she got caught up in the taste of him.
He tasted of danger. He tasted of need...and of a man standing on the edge of control. When his big body tensed in anticipation, she forgot she had a plan. She simply reacted. Tentatively she licked away the little sting her bite had given him.
“In every way... every way,” she repeated, hearing a huskiness in her murmur that had eased in without conscious thought.
When she pressed deeper against his body, it was desire, not determination that prompted her. When he didn’t pull away, it was temptation not calculation that had her slipping her fingers into the wealth of his thick, coarse hair, anticipation not manipulation that drew his mouth into more intimate contact with hers.
Temptress. Seductress. Wanton. They were new roles for her. But with Abel Greene’s hard, hot body beneath hers, with his big hands stiffening in resistance, then clutching at her waist, she found herself melting to the task like butter over a flame.
His arms suddenly banded like steel around her. Against her breast she felt the thunder of his heart as he opened his mouth beneath hers and, with drugging urgency, stole the last conscious thought from her mind.
The plan had been to tempt him. The plan had been to tease with a kiss, suggest a promise. The plan had not included that he would respond with a passion so ravenous she thought he’d eat her alive with need.
She wasn’t sure, but she guessed that she lost control about the same moment he did. Control didn’t stand a chance as their bodies spoke, explored, tasted, then dissolved into a straining knot of feminine heat and masculine fire.
Without breaking the contact of their mouths, he lifted her, separated her thighs and resettled her so she was straddling his lap. Cupping her bottom with a possessiveness that stole her breath, he pulled her hard to his hips before tunneling up under her sweater, kneading, stroking, caressing.
She sucked in a harsh breath when his powerful, yet achingly gentle hand stole between their bodies, skated over her ribs and cupped a bare breast. Knotting her hands in his hair, leaned into the caress of his callused palm, all reason, all restraint eroded by the power and the explosiveness of his passion.
He groaned when she rocked against him. She sighed his name when he tore his mouth from hers and with teeth and tongue, laved the tender skin beneath her jaw.
When he roughly shoved her sweater up and out of his way, she arched toward him as he lowered his mouth to her breast.
“Help.”
It could have been her calling out. Lord knows, she needed help. She’d planned on a kiss, not a quagmire of hot, mind-spinning caresses. She’d planned on a controlled, choreographed seduction, not a skidding, careening ride straight to the heart and the heat of an explosion.
It probably should have been her calling out, but it wasn’t. The most she could possibly manage at the moment was a breathless, begging moan. And it couldn’t have been Abel—his mouth was otherwise occupied. Wonderfully occupied, as he suckled and tugged and made sweet, savage love to her breast.
Through a haze of electric sensations, she heard the call again.
“Help...I think I need some help up here.”
With a guttural curse, Abel tore his mouth away. Breathing hard, he cocked his head toward the sound.
Mark’s tremulous plea reached them again from the far reaches of the loft, tentative with worry and concern.
“Hey...can anybody hear me? I think Nashata’s having her puppies.”
Frustration was a benign, inadequate description of how Mackenzie felt. Aggressive, blood-boiling need sizzled and seared through her veins, as she sagged against Abel’s broad chest.
“I’ll be right there.” His voice rumbled against her ear, sounding strained, his breath serrated and irregular.
She was still trying to catch her own breath when his long, strong fingers tangled in her short hair. His grip tightened, then
He tasted of danger. He tasted of need...and of a man standing on the edge of control. When his big body tensed in anticipation, she forgot she had a plan. She simply reacted. Tentatively she licked away the little sting her bite had given him.
“In every way... every way,” she repeated, hearing a huskiness in her murmur that had eased in without conscious thought.
When she pressed deeper against his body, it was desire, not determination that prompted her. When he didn’t pull away, it was temptation not calculation that had her slipping her fingers into the wealth of his thick, coarse hair, anticipation not manipulation that drew his mouth into more intimate contact with hers.
Temptress. Seductress. Wanton. They were new roles for her. But with Abel Greene’s hard, hot body beneath hers, with his big hands stiffening in resistance, then clutching at her waist, she found herself melting to the task like butter over a flame.
His arms suddenly banded like steel around her. Against her breast she felt the thunder of his heart as he opened his mouth beneath hers and, with drugging urgency, stole the last conscious thought from her mind.
The plan had been to tempt him. The plan had been to tease with a kiss, suggest a promise. The plan had not included that he would respond with a passion so ravenous she thought he’d eat her alive with need.
She wasn’t sure, but she guessed that she lost control about the same moment he did. Control didn’t stand a chance as their bodies spoke, explored, tasted, then dissolved into a straining knot of feminine heat and masculine fire.
Without breaking the contact of their mouths, he lifted her, separated her thighs and resettled her so she was straddling his lap. Cupping her bottom with a possessiveness that stole her breath, he pulled her hard to his hips before tunneling up under her sweater, kneading, stroking, caressing.
She sucked in a harsh breath when his powerful, yet achingly gentle hand stole between their bodies, skated over her ribs and cupped a bare breast. Knotting her hands in his hair, leaned into the caress of his callused palm, all reason, all restraint eroded by the power and the explosiveness of his passion.
He groaned when she rocked against him. She sighed his name when he tore his mouth from hers and with teeth and tongue, laved the tender skin beneath her jaw.
When he roughly shoved her sweater up and out of his way, she arched toward him as he lowered his mouth to her breast.
“Help.”
It could have been her calling out. Lord knows, she needed help. She’d planned on a kiss, not a quagmire of hot, mind-spinning caresses. She’d planned on a controlled, choreographed seduction, not a skidding, careening ride straight to the heart and the heat of an explosion.
It probably should have been her calling out, but it wasn’t. The most she could possibly manage at the moment was a breathless, begging moan. And it couldn’t have been Abel—his mouth was otherwise occupied. Wonderfully occupied, as he suckled and tugged and made sweet, savage love to her breast.
Through a haze of electric sensations, she heard the call again.
“Help...I think I need some help up here.”
With a guttural curse, Abel tore his mouth away. Breathing hard, he cocked his head toward the sound.
Mark’s tremulous plea reached them again from the far reaches of the loft, tentative with worry and concern.
“Hey...can anybody hear me? I think Nashata’s having her puppies.”
Frustration was a benign, inadequate description of how Mackenzie felt. Aggressive, blood-boiling need sizzled and seared through her veins, as she sagged against Abel’s broad chest.
“I’ll be right there.” His voice rumbled against her ear, sounding strained, his breath serrated and irregular.
She was still trying to catch her own breath when his long, strong fingers tangled in her short hair. His grip tightened, then
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