Read Online Affair with the Rebel Heiress (2010) by EMILY MCKAY - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: EMILY MCKAY
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straining against the front placket of his pants.
Head thrown back, she shifted her hips forward, grinding herself against him. She groaned low in her throat, a sound both erotic and unbearably tempting. How could he resist her? Why would he even try?
He slipped his thumb under the hem of her panties and found the nub of her desire. He stroked her there and the moan turned into a chorus of yeses. The steady chant echoed through his blood, pounding against the last of his restraint.
When she reached for his zipper, it didn't even occur to him to stop her. With a few quick movements, she'd freed him. He lifted his hips as she pulled at his pants, not even bothering to take them all the way off.
She nudged the fabric of her underwear out of the way, then lowered herself onto him. With one smooth movement, he was inside of her. Hot, tight, and unbearably sweet. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, trying to reign in his pure lust. Sucking a breath in through his teeth, he narrowed his focus. Pleasure rocked through his body, but he stayed just ahead of it. He didn't want to come too quickly. He wanted her right there with him.
He moved his thumb in slow, steady circles, matching the rhythm of her rocking hips. With his eyes still closed, he focused on the sound of her breath, the quick gasps and low moans. The yeses had dissolved to a series of meaningless guttural sounds.
He felt her muscles clenching around him. Then he made the mistake of opening his eyes. He looked up to see her poised above him, her back arched, her breasts thrusting forward as her hands clutched her heels. With her neck arched her hair fell down her back in wild disarray. He'd never seen anything more primitive, more primal, more gut-wrenchingly erotic.
And then she focused her groans into a single word that sent him spiraling beyond control.
"Ford!"
Sleeping with Ford just about topped the list of stupid things she could have done. Ford had said she'd had a hard day and he didn't know the half of it.
And as if sleeping with him wasn't bad enough, she'd slept with him. When he'd picked her up and carried her to her bedroom, she'd actually tugged him down onto the bed with her, draped her body over his and promptly fallen asleep. She'd snuggled with him, for cripes sake.
When she'd peeled herself off him in the morning to sneak away for a shower, she prayed he'd at least have the common courtesy to disappear. But no. Not Ford. He made coffee.
How the hell was she supposed to defend herself against a man who'd made her coffee?
"Oh," she said joylessly. "You're still here."
"We have to talk."
"So you keep saying." She crossed the narrow kitchen to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. "Maybe you think we're ready for couples' therapy."
He cut to the chase. "We didn't use a condom last night."
Ah. So that was why he'd stuck around.
Hoping to antagonize him into storming out, she said, "I suppose you blame me for that."
"I didn't say that. I just wanted to let you know you don't have to worry about your health. I get tested annually for anything that--"
"I know," she interrupted him. "When I got back from Texas I had myself tested. Yes, we were pretty safe, but as we both know condoms aren't one hundred percent effective at anything."
She broke off sharply. Please don't do something stupid. Like cry. Or tell him the truth .
"So," she continued. "I knew that wasn't a concern."
Just keep sipping your coffee. He'll leave soon and you can do all the stupid things you want.
He pinned her with a heavy stare. "Do I need to worry you'll get pregnant?"
It took all her willpower not to spew coffee all over the kitchen. Instead she equivocated. "Do I look worried?"
"That's hardly the point. You never look worried."
Well, at least she still had someone fooled. With aself-effacing shrug, she said, "When you're raised the way I was, you learn to keep your emotions to yourself."
"Well, you learned well, then." There was a hint of something dark
Head thrown back, she shifted her hips forward, grinding herself against him. She groaned low in her throat, a sound both erotic and unbearably tempting. How could he resist her? Why would he even try?
He slipped his thumb under the hem of her panties and found the nub of her desire. He stroked her there and the moan turned into a chorus of yeses. The steady chant echoed through his blood, pounding against the last of his restraint.
When she reached for his zipper, it didn't even occur to him to stop her. With a few quick movements, she'd freed him. He lifted his hips as she pulled at his pants, not even bothering to take them all the way off.
She nudged the fabric of her underwear out of the way, then lowered herself onto him. With one smooth movement, he was inside of her. Hot, tight, and unbearably sweet. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, trying to reign in his pure lust. Sucking a breath in through his teeth, he narrowed his focus. Pleasure rocked through his body, but he stayed just ahead of it. He didn't want to come too quickly. He wanted her right there with him.
He moved his thumb in slow, steady circles, matching the rhythm of her rocking hips. With his eyes still closed, he focused on the sound of her breath, the quick gasps and low moans. The yeses had dissolved to a series of meaningless guttural sounds.
He felt her muscles clenching around him. Then he made the mistake of opening his eyes. He looked up to see her poised above him, her back arched, her breasts thrusting forward as her hands clutched her heels. With her neck arched her hair fell down her back in wild disarray. He'd never seen anything more primitive, more primal, more gut-wrenchingly erotic.
And then she focused her groans into a single word that sent him spiraling beyond control.
"Ford!"
Sleeping with Ford just about topped the list of stupid things she could have done. Ford had said she'd had a hard day and he didn't know the half of it.
And as if sleeping with him wasn't bad enough, she'd slept with him. When he'd picked her up and carried her to her bedroom, she'd actually tugged him down onto the bed with her, draped her body over his and promptly fallen asleep. She'd snuggled with him, for cripes sake.
When she'd peeled herself off him in the morning to sneak away for a shower, she prayed he'd at least have the common courtesy to disappear. But no. Not Ford. He made coffee.
How the hell was she supposed to defend herself against a man who'd made her coffee?
"Oh," she said joylessly. "You're still here."
"We have to talk."
"So you keep saying." She crossed the narrow kitchen to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. "Maybe you think we're ready for couples' therapy."
He cut to the chase. "We didn't use a condom last night."
Ah. So that was why he'd stuck around.
Hoping to antagonize him into storming out, she said, "I suppose you blame me for that."
"I didn't say that. I just wanted to let you know you don't have to worry about your health. I get tested annually for anything that--"
"I know," she interrupted him. "When I got back from Texas I had myself tested. Yes, we were pretty safe, but as we both know condoms aren't one hundred percent effective at anything."
She broke off sharply. Please don't do something stupid. Like cry. Or tell him the truth .
"So," she continued. "I knew that wasn't a concern."
Just keep sipping your coffee. He'll leave soon and you can do all the stupid things you want.
He pinned her with a heavy stare. "Do I need to worry you'll get pregnant?"
It took all her willpower not to spew coffee all over the kitchen. Instead she equivocated. "Do I look worried?"
"That's hardly the point. You never look worried."
Well, at least she still had someone fooled. With aself-effacing shrug, she said, "When you're raised the way I was, you learn to keep your emotions to yourself."
"Well, you learned well, then." There was a hint of something dark
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