Read Online Hidden Heart (Love Is The Law 1) by Isabella Brooke - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Isabella Brooke
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around his waist, running over the smooth
taut rise of his buttocks. His kiss was hard, harsh even, pressing her back
against the wall, but she fought back, her lips tugging his as their breathing
mingled in muffled gasps.
It had been a while since she had
been kissed like this. In fact, it had been a while since she had been kissed.
Turner's arms drew closer to her head, his hands resting in her hair then
creeping down, along her neck, where he held her steady as his tongue sought
hers. Emily held on to him even as he pulled away, needing to breathe.
Reluctantly she released her grip and let him lean back. Their hips were still
hard against one another.
"Oh. Wow."
He laughed at her. "I'm a
little out of practise…"
"Not at all."
"Good. So." He
swallowed and a look of anxiety seemed to flit over his face. He let go of her
fully, and stood back. Suddenly, Emily was cold as the air rushed in between
them, and she was just one more party-goer pushed up against a wall. She
reached out and touched his wrist, but his expression was worried.
He said, "I'm sorry. I
didn't mean to… I shouldn't… I'm not that sort of man. To, you know."
"To what?"
"Force myself on anyone."
"You haven't."
"I have. Let me get you
home. I need to see you safely home."
Emily didn't know whether to be
disappointed or relieved. She shook her head and smiled. "It's all right.
Just get me to a taxi and I'll be fine."
"Sure?"
"Sure."
Turner paused, his expression
distant, as if he was about to suggest something. Then he extended his arm and
she took it. He led her out of the backstreet and onto the busier routes
between Salford and Manchester. They walked in silence until Emily couldn't
stand it any longer.
"Turner, listen. Don't beat
yourself up. I don't know what's going on in your head right now. You're not
yourself. Not that I can claim to know what "yourself" is, but you’re
not the man I met the other week. I've had such a great night with you, and
then… then you kissed me, and that's okay too. It really is."
His fingers dug into her upper
arm and he briefly dipped his mouth to brush her forehead, a light, chaste kiss
of acknowledgement. "Thank you. It has been a great night. It makes me
feel normal again, like the man I used to be before I messed it all up."
She thought about her own
mistakes, but held her tongue. Instead, she let her arm snake around his waist
again, her fingers pressing into his hips and slightly dipping under his
leather belt.
"Oh Emily, what are you
doing?" His voice was low and he stopped walking, half-turning to face her
while still holding her close.
"Turner, it's all
right…" she said again. Her blood was roaring in her ears as she offered
up her lips to him once more.
He accepted her invitation and
this time the kiss was deeper and longer. Passing cars tooted their horns but
Emily didn't care; she was wrapped in the arms of a strong man, and she
squeezed her eyes shut, trying to absorb every sensation and every touch, taking
the moment into her memory for ever.
This time, when they broke apart,
they didn't speak. Turner hurried her along the pavement to a taxi rank and
they jumped in. A worry flitted through Emily's mind; he's going to find out
where I live. But one look at his dark, hungry face, pushed the concern
away. He was an ex- criminal, after all.
He didn't even look around her
flat as she led him into the cosy, chaotic living room. He was upon her once
more, exploring new ways of kissing, judging her responses. Hard, fast, slow,
gentle, nibbling and pulling; together they meshed their lips and their bodies,
standing central in the dim-lit room, illuminated against the uncovered
windows, proudly displaying their passion to the night air of the North.
It felt as if every vein in her
body was throbbing and fit to burst. She tugged at his suit jacket, pushing it
back from his shoulders, and he let it slide to the floor. He countered by
pulling at the waistband of her cardigan, drawing it up
taut rise of his buttocks. His kiss was hard, harsh even, pressing her back
against the wall, but she fought back, her lips tugging his as their breathing
mingled in muffled gasps.
It had been a while since she had
been kissed like this. In fact, it had been a while since she had been kissed.
Turner's arms drew closer to her head, his hands resting in her hair then
creeping down, along her neck, where he held her steady as his tongue sought
hers. Emily held on to him even as he pulled away, needing to breathe.
Reluctantly she released her grip and let him lean back. Their hips were still
hard against one another.
"Oh. Wow."
He laughed at her. "I'm a
little out of practise…"
"Not at all."
"Good. So." He
swallowed and a look of anxiety seemed to flit over his face. He let go of her
fully, and stood back. Suddenly, Emily was cold as the air rushed in between
them, and she was just one more party-goer pushed up against a wall. She
reached out and touched his wrist, but his expression was worried.
He said, "I'm sorry. I
didn't mean to… I shouldn't… I'm not that sort of man. To, you know."
"To what?"
"Force myself on anyone."
"You haven't."
"I have. Let me get you
home. I need to see you safely home."
Emily didn't know whether to be
disappointed or relieved. She shook her head and smiled. "It's all right.
Just get me to a taxi and I'll be fine."
"Sure?"
"Sure."
Turner paused, his expression
distant, as if he was about to suggest something. Then he extended his arm and
she took it. He led her out of the backstreet and onto the busier routes
between Salford and Manchester. They walked in silence until Emily couldn't
stand it any longer.
"Turner, listen. Don't beat
yourself up. I don't know what's going on in your head right now. You're not
yourself. Not that I can claim to know what "yourself" is, but you’re
not the man I met the other week. I've had such a great night with you, and
then… then you kissed me, and that's okay too. It really is."
His fingers dug into her upper
arm and he briefly dipped his mouth to brush her forehead, a light, chaste kiss
of acknowledgement. "Thank you. It has been a great night. It makes me
feel normal again, like the man I used to be before I messed it all up."
She thought about her own
mistakes, but held her tongue. Instead, she let her arm snake around his waist
again, her fingers pressing into his hips and slightly dipping under his
leather belt.
"Oh Emily, what are you
doing?" His voice was low and he stopped walking, half-turning to face her
while still holding her close.
"Turner, it's all
right…" she said again. Her blood was roaring in her ears as she offered
up her lips to him once more.
He accepted her invitation and
this time the kiss was deeper and longer. Passing cars tooted their horns but
Emily didn't care; she was wrapped in the arms of a strong man, and she
squeezed her eyes shut, trying to absorb every sensation and every touch, taking
the moment into her memory for ever.
This time, when they broke apart,
they didn't speak. Turner hurried her along the pavement to a taxi rank and
they jumped in. A worry flitted through Emily's mind; he's going to find out
where I live. But one look at his dark, hungry face, pushed the concern
away. He was an ex- criminal, after all.
He didn't even look around her
flat as she led him into the cosy, chaotic living room. He was upon her once
more, exploring new ways of kissing, judging her responses. Hard, fast, slow,
gentle, nibbling and pulling; together they meshed their lips and their bodies,
standing central in the dim-lit room, illuminated against the uncovered
windows, proudly displaying their passion to the night air of the North.
It felt as if every vein in her
body was throbbing and fit to burst. She tugged at his suit jacket, pushing it
back from his shoulders, and he let it slide to the floor. He countered by
pulling at the waistband of her cardigan, drawing it up
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