hers.
She kissed him with a passion pent‐up for far too long, and he answered in kind.
Kissing Ben was as natural as breathing, she thought, exploring freely with her tongue, revelling in the tastes and sensations she’d given up for lost so long ago.
He was still propped on one elbow; his other hand ran up the length of her jeaned leg, skimmed over her bottom, traversed her stomach and came to rest on her ribcage.
Through the thick cotton fabric of her T‐shirt, he caressed her flesh, his fingers moving with a lover’s confidence, and sending her heart into overdrive.
Julie Mac
Fleetingly, Kelly thought of the blue silk top she’d taken off in favour of the T‐shirt. If she’d worn that, his fingers on the soft, lustrous fabric would have felt like skin on skin. For a moment she wished—fervently—that she’d worn it instead of the clunky corporate T‐shirt.
And that she’d left her hair down, and her makeup in version one mode.
At that moment, she wanted, more than anything in the world, to look beautiful for Ben—to be hot in his eyes. She wanted to please him, because right now, he sure as heck was pleasing her, not just with his hands but with his mouth too, which was currently running a string of little kisses from the corner of her lips, across her jaw, down the delicate skin of her throat, and back up to whisper against the super‐sensitive skin below her ear.
She couldn’t contain her whimper of pleasure, then his magic mouth was back on hers, teasing, tempting and more sensuous than the finest of silk fabrics.
When his hand moved up to rest on the downward slope of her breast, reality crashed in. Lying here on the beach, with the sand warm on her back under the picnic rug, with the sea singing its endless lullaby in the dark, and Ben kissing her, was bliss—
supercharged bliss—but it had to stop.
She was a grown woman, with responsibilities. She twisted her head to dislodge his wicked mouth, and clamped her hand on top of his, intending to pull it from her breast.
“Stop, Ben!” Her voice sounded oddly ragged. “We can’t do this.”
She tugged at his hand, but it stayed put, and she felt his fingers running over the thick fabric of her T‐shirt to explore the lacy texture of her bra beneath. Before she knew what was happening, he’d shucked his hand out from under hers to pull up her T‐shirt, exposing the lacy, ribbon‐trimmed confection of a bra.
“So you did dress up for me!”
His lips curved in a knowing smile as his eyes made an unashamedly appreciative traverse of the twin black and pink peaks and the gully in between.
Kelly wished her breathing hadn’t accelerated quite so fast, making the objects of his interest heave up and down. As he lowered his mouth to the smooth slope of skin above the pretty ribboned upper contour, she brought her hand up to tug at her T‐shirt, and cursed herself for not replacing her one and only fancy bra with a plain, utilitarian, everyday model when she’d changed.
“No!” Yes! What was it about Ben Carter that had her telling little white lies every five minutes? “Of course not. I wear bras like this all the time.”
“Really?” His cocked eyebrow told her he knew damn well she’d worn the fancy bra with him in mind.
“Yes, really. And we have to stop this.” She dragged the T‐shirt all the way down, registering the fact he made no effort to stop her. “We’re on a beach, for heaven’s sake. In a public place. Someone might see us!”
“Apart from the fact that it’s now dark, there’s only one other couple on the beach, and they’re way down the other end.” He moved his body so he was lying on his back beside A Father at Last
her, propped on his elbows. “I’ve been checking.”
“Thank goodness for that!”
Or maybe not. If there were people around he wouldn’t be doing these things to scramble her brain and make her act so…irresponsibly. Like a teenage girl. She had to get away
She kissed him with a passion pent‐up for far too long, and he answered in kind.
Kissing Ben was as natural as breathing, she thought, exploring freely with her tongue, revelling in the tastes and sensations she’d given up for lost so long ago.
He was still propped on one elbow; his other hand ran up the length of her jeaned leg, skimmed over her bottom, traversed her stomach and came to rest on her ribcage.
Through the thick cotton fabric of her T‐shirt, he caressed her flesh, his fingers moving with a lover’s confidence, and sending her heart into overdrive.
Julie Mac
Fleetingly, Kelly thought of the blue silk top she’d taken off in favour of the T‐shirt. If she’d worn that, his fingers on the soft, lustrous fabric would have felt like skin on skin. For a moment she wished—fervently—that she’d worn it instead of the clunky corporate T‐shirt.
And that she’d left her hair down, and her makeup in version one mode.
At that moment, she wanted, more than anything in the world, to look beautiful for Ben—to be hot in his eyes. She wanted to please him, because right now, he sure as heck was pleasing her, not just with his hands but with his mouth too, which was currently running a string of little kisses from the corner of her lips, across her jaw, down the delicate skin of her throat, and back up to whisper against the super‐sensitive skin below her ear.
She couldn’t contain her whimper of pleasure, then his magic mouth was back on hers, teasing, tempting and more sensuous than the finest of silk fabrics.
When his hand moved up to rest on the downward slope of her breast, reality crashed in. Lying here on the beach, with the sand warm on her back under the picnic rug, with the sea singing its endless lullaby in the dark, and Ben kissing her, was bliss—
supercharged bliss—but it had to stop.
She was a grown woman, with responsibilities. She twisted her head to dislodge his wicked mouth, and clamped her hand on top of his, intending to pull it from her breast.
“Stop, Ben!” Her voice sounded oddly ragged. “We can’t do this.”
She tugged at his hand, but it stayed put, and she felt his fingers running over the thick fabric of her T‐shirt to explore the lacy texture of her bra beneath. Before she knew what was happening, he’d shucked his hand out from under hers to pull up her T‐shirt, exposing the lacy, ribbon‐trimmed confection of a bra.
“So you did dress up for me!”
His lips curved in a knowing smile as his eyes made an unashamedly appreciative traverse of the twin black and pink peaks and the gully in between.
Kelly wished her breathing hadn’t accelerated quite so fast, making the objects of his interest heave up and down. As he lowered his mouth to the smooth slope of skin above the pretty ribboned upper contour, she brought her hand up to tug at her T‐shirt, and cursed herself for not replacing her one and only fancy bra with a plain, utilitarian, everyday model when she’d changed.
“No!” Yes! What was it about Ben Carter that had her telling little white lies every five minutes? “Of course not. I wear bras like this all the time.”
“Really?” His cocked eyebrow told her he knew damn well she’d worn the fancy bra with him in mind.
“Yes, really. And we have to stop this.” She dragged the T‐shirt all the way down, registering the fact he made no effort to stop her. “We’re on a beach, for heaven’s sake. In a public place. Someone might see us!”
“Apart from the fact that it’s now dark, there’s only one other couple on the beach, and they’re way down the other end.” He moved his body so he was lying on his back beside A Father at Last
her, propped on his elbows. “I’ve been checking.”
“Thank goodness for that!”
Or maybe not. If there were people around he wouldn’t be doing these things to scramble her brain and make her act so…irresponsibly. Like a teenage girl. She had to get away
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