Read Online A Lyon's Share by Janet Dailey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Janet Dailey
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fingers undid the last button of her blouse and pushed the material aside, Joan could only sigh with gratification at the touch of his hand on the rounded curve of her breast. The heady gloriousness, the supreme sense of rightness at what was happening, banished all modesty. The whole universe could have collapsed at that moment and she would not have cared as long as she was in Brandt's strong arms.
As his mouth ravaged the hollow of her throat, beginning a slow meandering trail to the shadowy cleft between her breasts, a bursting light filled the room. For a moment, Joan thought she had only imagined the sudden illumination of light on her closed eyes. Then the cessation of Brandt's caress prompted her to open her eyes. The fluorescent overhead lights were on!
His head remained buried in her neck for an instant longer. Then he cursed briefly beneath his breath and pushed himself upright and away from her. She stared at him in tortured stillness, watching him as he sat on the edge of the sofa, his breathing ragged and uneven, raking his hands through his brown hair before using them to cover his face.
"That's as effective as the cold light of day!"
The bitterly spoken words drew a silent gasp of dismay from Joan. Brandt felt nothing but regret. The desire had been of the moment only, and intense shame washed over her. Foolishly she had thought his passion had been sparked by more than just lust.
Hot tears of humiliation scalded her cheeks as she fumbled beneath her coat with the buttons of her blouse, her skin still betrayingly tingling from the intimate caresses of his hands on her nakedness.
"Joan, I'm sorry." His low voice rumbled from some deep, dark pit. "You must think I'm—"
"Please don't apologize!" She lashed out sharply, knowing she couldn't bear to be degraded any further. "It really isn't necessary!"
Partially covered, sufficient for modesty's sake, she pushed herself upright on the sofa, driven by an overwhelming need to run before the heat in her cheeks was drowned by a gulf of tears. Before she could complete the movement that would bring her to her feet, Brandt's arm was pinioning her against the sofa, his fingers digging roughly into the flesh of her arm.
"You aren't going anywhere!" Blue fires blazed in his eyes, their flames licking over her startled face and the lips warm and swollen by his kisses. "Not until we talk this over."
The hard set of his features indicated the tight hold he had on his temper and emotions. The sight of his masculinity carved face could still raise havoc with her senses, but she kept her expression cold and proud.
"There isn't anything to talk about," she stated, refusing to flinch under his painful grip.
"You damn well know there is!" It was spoken softly, almost under his breath.
"Please." But the polite word was not spoken as a plea as she reached up to push his hand away from her arm. "You're putting too much importance on what happened."
"What nearly happened, you mean," Brandt reminded her with a cutting edge to his tongue.
In spite of herself, color stained her cheeks in admission and she quickly averted her head, letting her tousled hair fall forward to cover her face.
"But it didn't happen," she added firmly. "We're both normal, healthy human beings who happen to be members of the opposite sex," she argued logically, trying to regain some measure of her own self-respect. "Propinquity and an unusual situation simply prompted us to do things we wouldn't have done in normal circumstances."
"Do you believe that?" His eyes narrowed as he withdrew his arm.
"Of course I do." It was partially true, Joan believed, on Brandt's part, but not on hers.
"I never met anyone as coldly analytical as you are." Brandt shook his head grimly, blue sapphire chips gleaming at her angrily before they sliced away and he rolled to his feet. "You just turn your emotions on and off at will, don't you?"
Sheer nerve was the only thing keeping Joan from turning into a blubbering
As his mouth ravaged the hollow of her throat, beginning a slow meandering trail to the shadowy cleft between her breasts, a bursting light filled the room. For a moment, Joan thought she had only imagined the sudden illumination of light on her closed eyes. Then the cessation of Brandt's caress prompted her to open her eyes. The fluorescent overhead lights were on!
His head remained buried in her neck for an instant longer. Then he cursed briefly beneath his breath and pushed himself upright and away from her. She stared at him in tortured stillness, watching him as he sat on the edge of the sofa, his breathing ragged and uneven, raking his hands through his brown hair before using them to cover his face.
"That's as effective as the cold light of day!"
The bitterly spoken words drew a silent gasp of dismay from Joan. Brandt felt nothing but regret. The desire had been of the moment only, and intense shame washed over her. Foolishly she had thought his passion had been sparked by more than just lust.
Hot tears of humiliation scalded her cheeks as she fumbled beneath her coat with the buttons of her blouse, her skin still betrayingly tingling from the intimate caresses of his hands on her nakedness.
"Joan, I'm sorry." His low voice rumbled from some deep, dark pit. "You must think I'm—"
"Please don't apologize!" She lashed out sharply, knowing she couldn't bear to be degraded any further. "It really isn't necessary!"
Partially covered, sufficient for modesty's sake, she pushed herself upright on the sofa, driven by an overwhelming need to run before the heat in her cheeks was drowned by a gulf of tears. Before she could complete the movement that would bring her to her feet, Brandt's arm was pinioning her against the sofa, his fingers digging roughly into the flesh of her arm.
"You aren't going anywhere!" Blue fires blazed in his eyes, their flames licking over her startled face and the lips warm and swollen by his kisses. "Not until we talk this over."
The hard set of his features indicated the tight hold he had on his temper and emotions. The sight of his masculinity carved face could still raise havoc with her senses, but she kept her expression cold and proud.
"There isn't anything to talk about," she stated, refusing to flinch under his painful grip.
"You damn well know there is!" It was spoken softly, almost under his breath.
"Please." But the polite word was not spoken as a plea as she reached up to push his hand away from her arm. "You're putting too much importance on what happened."
"What nearly happened, you mean," Brandt reminded her with a cutting edge to his tongue.
In spite of herself, color stained her cheeks in admission and she quickly averted her head, letting her tousled hair fall forward to cover her face.
"But it didn't happen," she added firmly. "We're both normal, healthy human beings who happen to be members of the opposite sex," she argued logically, trying to regain some measure of her own self-respect. "Propinquity and an unusual situation simply prompted us to do things we wouldn't have done in normal circumstances."
"Do you believe that?" His eyes narrowed as he withdrew his arm.
"Of course I do." It was partially true, Joan believed, on Brandt's part, but not on hers.
"I never met anyone as coldly analytical as you are." Brandt shook his head grimly, blue sapphire chips gleaming at her angrily before they sliced away and he rolled to his feet. "You just turn your emotions on and off at will, don't you?"
Sheer nerve was the only thing keeping Joan from turning into a blubbering
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