Read Online Carnal in Cannes by Jianne Carlo - Free Book Online Page B

another surprise—a hint of green olive there, smoky red pepper here—and her eyes closed automatically.
    “Lord almighty, I love the way you eat.” Harry"s breath skipped across the side of her face.
    Her lids flew open.
    “Try a meatball.”

    Mediterranean Mambo: Carnal in Cannes

    37

    She accepted the canapé from his fingers and bit into the meat and cheese.
    “Like?” he asked.
    “Délicieux. Delicious,” she replied after swallowing. “Now you.”
    They fed each other, taking turns, Harry insisting she take a sip of the sangria after each hors d"oeuvre. Gradually Martine relaxed, and when Harry interspersed tongue-drugging kisses with food, not only didn"t she object, but she anticipated his mouth as much as she did the nibbles.
    Somehow, they ended up lying on the bed facing each other. The wine had warmed Martine"s insides and her extremities. She arched her back slightly, relishing the downy softness of the bedcovers against her bare calves.
    “Dessert?” Harry asked, reaching an arm over his head.
    Martine pushed up onto one elbow and couldn"t prevent her lips from lifting at the corners. The built-in headboard had three shelves, the lowest of which contained about a hundred hardback books. The top shelf displayed stacked magazines and cases of computer games.
    But the middle shelf made her beam, and she had to bite the insides of her cheeks to stifle the impulse to throw her arms around his neck. Strawberries, some covered in white chocolate, some in milk chocolate, some plain, some dusted with powdered sugar—bowls and bowls of the glistening red fruit filled the space above Harry"s and Martine"s heads.
    “Austen said you ate all the strawberries from the fruit bowl in the hotel suite.” Harry plucked one plain berry from a crystal container cradled in one palm.
    “Open.”
    “I can oofg —” Martine couldn"t speak around the fruit in her mouth, so she bit into it and didn"t bother to choke back a soft moan as the sweet-tart liquid coated her tongue. She"d discovered strawberries in the markets in Marseille. Once a month she splurged, buying a selection of different berries; she"d yet to meet one she didn"t adore.
    “Good?” One eyebrow quirked up, and he shot her an uneven grin.
    She nodded, chewing slowly, savoring the sour and sugar flavor of the fruit, her eyes half closing in sheer ecstasy. A sticky drop leaked from her mouth and trailed the middle of her chin. Before she could swipe the trickling juice, Harry"s tongue lapped at the liquid, tickled the corner of her mouth, and when her lips parted, swept in.
    Their tongues, morsels of berries, and sweet fluid mingled and merged, doing a slow waltz. Harry"s palm slipped over her clavicle, curled around her nape, and his fingers tangled in her curls. A whimper she couldn"t prevent welled up her throat.
    Hot prickles covered Martine"s exposed flesh, her skin quivering under the stroking of the calloused pads of his fingertips.
    His arm curved around her waist, and his open hand splayed over her ass, urging her closer, sliding her pelvis against his groin. Her breasts rubbed on the cotton of his T-shirt, and her nipples puckered, throbbing fire and ice at the same 38
    Jianne Carlo

    time. His teeth captured the tip of her tongue, and he bore down softly, the burning-chill sensation echoing in the throbbing wetness of her folds. Martine canted her hips forward, and a frustrated groan escaped her lips when her mound made contact with his erection.
    Her hands kneaded the hard muscles of his chest, fingers moving side to side, flicking at the small nipples she discovered, and she cried out when his thumb and forefinger pinched hers lightly and rolled it between his fingertips. He drank in the sound, his mouth eating at hers, nipping the bottom lip, holding the flesh hostage.
    He captured her hand and slowly dragged her palm down his chest, over the slight hollow of his belly button, onto the rigid, pulsing head of his erection. She