Read Online Amanda by Kay Hooper - Free Book Online Page A

get completely naked. Her bra, unfastened between the cups, dangled from her shoulders, and though she managed to get her panties off, the buttons of her skirt were stubborn and the garment was rucked up around her waist when he pushed her back against the wall and kneed her legs apart. And though he managed to get rid of his shirt, his jeans and shorts were shoved down only as far as necessary.
    Even in the grip of lust, however, he automatically put on a condom; she had made her wishes on that subject very, very clear, and by now the habit was ingrained. Upon getting dressed every morning, sliding a couple of condoms into his pocket on the chance of a meeting with Kate was as routine a practice as putting on his socks.
    “Yes,” she whispered when he slid his hands around to grasp her buttocks and begin lifting her. “Yes, Ben.” Her legs closed around him, gripping him, and he groaned when her hot, slippery sheath enveloped his aching flesh.
    With her back braced against the wall and her legs wrapped around his waist, he was supporting most of her weight, and she was not a small woman. But he was strong, and so caught up in lust he never noticed the effort as he heaved and thrust. She was urging him on frantically, her low voice strained and throaty as she moaned and whimpered her pleasure, and theyknew each other’s responses so well that their climb toward orgasm was swift and perfectly in sync.
    When they climaxed, almost in the same second, it was with the slightly muffled cries of two people always conscious of the need to keep their activity as quiet as possible.
    For a few moments they remained locked together, breath rasping and bodies trembling, the wall and willpower holding them upright. But, finally, she loosened her legs and allowed them to slide down over his, and he steadied her as their bodies disconnected and her feet—still wearing neat and ladylike espadrilles— found the floor.
    Ben looked at her as he eased back away from her. Her hair was still tidy in its customary French twist, her face serene as always, but there was a sensual flush over her excellent cheekbones, a heavy, languid expression in her eyes, and her mouth was softened and redder than normal.
    He kissed her slowly, wanting her even more now, which was also a customary thing; having Kate, though it was, God knew, wildly exciting and always satisfying, seemed to only intensify rather than satiate his desire for her. But he could tell by the relaxed way she returned his kiss that it would only be once today and, wary of pressing her, he drew away.
    He pulled his jeans partway back up, then went into the bathroom to take care of himself. When he came back out a couple of minutes later, his jeans fastened and a damp washcloth in his hand, she had her bra in place and was working on the blouse, hiding her magnificent breasts from him. He sighed with more than a pang of regret.
    “You needed it bad,” he noted, bending to pick up her discarded panties.
    “And you didn’t?” Her voice was dry rather than defensive, and he grinned.
    “Always. We both know I can’t get enough. As a matter of fact, if you stand there much longer with your skirt hiked up like that—”
    “No, I have to get back to the house.” She took the damp cloth from his hand and cleaned herself with the fastidious deftness of a cat, then handed him the cloth, took her panties, and finished dressing.
    He watched her, admiring her beauty but even more fascinated by her self-possession. She had been completely natural from the first with him, utterly comfortable in her own skin and lustily interested in his, and Ben found that a refreshing change. All the other women he’d known always seemed either self-conscious or anxious after sex, worried about how they looked naked and about how they felt or were supposed to feel—and how
he
felt or was supposed to feel.
    But not Kate. She came to him to get laid—pure and simple. He hadn’t been the first, and he knew