Read Online Husband Stay (Husband #2) by Louise Cusack - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Louise Cusack
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reckless exultation.
That frightened
me.
I tugged on his
hand and said, “Where are we going?”
“You wanted air.”
He kept leading me along the beautiful tree-lined street, and I stupidly
followed, completely dazzled by the feel of his warm hand holding mine, by the
sexiness of his stride and the sensation of being overwhelmed by my own desire.
The air was
incredibly clear and I realized then that I wasn’t drunk. My senses were too
sharp—magically sharp in fact. I had to be intoxicated with the idea of having
him to myself, even if it was only for ten minutes.
I had no idea where
we were going so it was completely ridiculous not to call a halt to it, but
singing with Noah Steele had somehow changed me. My reality filter had skewed and
my internal voice had stopped criticizing me.
In fact, it was
saying: Why shouldn’t I walk off with the sexiest man in the room? Wasn’t
I a beautiful Indian diva about to get my own agent and quite probably be seen
all over YouTube singing with a mega star?
Why shouldn’t I
have adventures?
We came to a side
street and he turned down it. And still I followed, much to my own astonishment.
The area was residential, and after passing houses with beautiful rose gardens,
he stopped at a gate and opened it. The pretty garden inside was awash in warm
yellow light emanating from a tiny Federation style cottage which had grey
weatherboards and white wrought-iron scroll-work.
As he walked me
down the brick path and up the handful of steps, I smelt jasmine and saw hanging
baskets of pansies decorating the encircling veranda. Without releasing my
hand, he opened the front door and led me inside.
I was about to ask
who owned the house and why it had been left unlocked when he turned back and
closed the door, looming over me in the process. I stepped back in surprise, my
plaster cast clunking against the door a second after it clicked shut, then
instead of looking at his tie, I tilted my head to look into his eyes which
seemed suddenly very dark with the hallway light behind him. I could hear blood
pounding in my ears.
“Angela,” he said
softly.
“Jack.” I couldn’t
breathe. The way he was looking at me left no doubt in my mind that the
attraction was mutual. I felt hot and dizzy and reckless. And probably because
of that I did the craziest thing I could imagine.
I grabbed his tie
and pulled him down to my lips.
I. Grabbed. Him.
That was my last cohesive
thought before his lips slanted over mine and he pulled me up against that
incredible chest which was every bit as hard as I’d imagined it would be. My
world closed down to the taste of his mouth—coffee and sin—exploring mine with
a thoroughness that was breathtaking.
My body felt like
a distant throbbing as I tasted him, then he slowed the kiss and the tip of his
tongue slid along the inner flesh of my lower lip. Goosebumps broke out across
my body as I shuddered helplessly in his arms, feeling pleasure radiate out and
tingle me from scalp to toenails.
My breasts felt as
though they’d push their way out of my loose top, and there was no question
that I was ready for sex. I’d bet money that my panties were damp. Then one of
his hands slid down from my shoulder-blade to my waist, scorching a path of heat
that shocked me.
“Angela.” He
pulled back marginally so he could look into my eyes at close range, then his
hand slid even lower to cup my ass.
I sucked in an
unsteady breath, but he just kept staring at me and I stared boldly back, as if
I let strangers touch me so intimately all the time. And I didn’t say stop.
So he kissed me
again, softly, giving me time to catch up with the giddying pace of my arousal.
When he pulled
back, he said, “I feel like that kid in the Willy Wonka factory looking at the river
of chocolate. You know the one?”
I nodded. For
weeks after I’d first seen that movie I’d wanted an oompa loompa as a playmate.
He moved in close
and nosed my hair away from my ear to whisper
That frightened
me.
I tugged on his
hand and said, “Where are we going?”
“You wanted air.”
He kept leading me along the beautiful tree-lined street, and I stupidly
followed, completely dazzled by the feel of his warm hand holding mine, by the
sexiness of his stride and the sensation of being overwhelmed by my own desire.
The air was
incredibly clear and I realized then that I wasn’t drunk. My senses were too
sharp—magically sharp in fact. I had to be intoxicated with the idea of having
him to myself, even if it was only for ten minutes.
I had no idea where
we were going so it was completely ridiculous not to call a halt to it, but
singing with Noah Steele had somehow changed me. My reality filter had skewed and
my internal voice had stopped criticizing me.
In fact, it was
saying: Why shouldn’t I walk off with the sexiest man in the room? Wasn’t
I a beautiful Indian diva about to get my own agent and quite probably be seen
all over YouTube singing with a mega star?
Why shouldn’t I
have adventures?
We came to a side
street and he turned down it. And still I followed, much to my own astonishment.
The area was residential, and after passing houses with beautiful rose gardens,
he stopped at a gate and opened it. The pretty garden inside was awash in warm
yellow light emanating from a tiny Federation style cottage which had grey
weatherboards and white wrought-iron scroll-work.
As he walked me
down the brick path and up the handful of steps, I smelt jasmine and saw hanging
baskets of pansies decorating the encircling veranda. Without releasing my
hand, he opened the front door and led me inside.
I was about to ask
who owned the house and why it had been left unlocked when he turned back and
closed the door, looming over me in the process. I stepped back in surprise, my
plaster cast clunking against the door a second after it clicked shut, then
instead of looking at his tie, I tilted my head to look into his eyes which
seemed suddenly very dark with the hallway light behind him. I could hear blood
pounding in my ears.
“Angela,” he said
softly.
“Jack.” I couldn’t
breathe. The way he was looking at me left no doubt in my mind that the
attraction was mutual. I felt hot and dizzy and reckless. And probably because
of that I did the craziest thing I could imagine.
I grabbed his tie
and pulled him down to my lips.
I. Grabbed. Him.
That was my last cohesive
thought before his lips slanted over mine and he pulled me up against that
incredible chest which was every bit as hard as I’d imagined it would be. My
world closed down to the taste of his mouth—coffee and sin—exploring mine with
a thoroughness that was breathtaking.
My body felt like
a distant throbbing as I tasted him, then he slowed the kiss and the tip of his
tongue slid along the inner flesh of my lower lip. Goosebumps broke out across
my body as I shuddered helplessly in his arms, feeling pleasure radiate out and
tingle me from scalp to toenails.
My breasts felt as
though they’d push their way out of my loose top, and there was no question
that I was ready for sex. I’d bet money that my panties were damp. Then one of
his hands slid down from my shoulder-blade to my waist, scorching a path of heat
that shocked me.
“Angela.” He
pulled back marginally so he could look into my eyes at close range, then his
hand slid even lower to cup my ass.
I sucked in an
unsteady breath, but he just kept staring at me and I stared boldly back, as if
I let strangers touch me so intimately all the time. And I didn’t say stop.
So he kissed me
again, softly, giving me time to catch up with the giddying pace of my arousal.
When he pulled
back, he said, “I feel like that kid in the Willy Wonka factory looking at the river
of chocolate. You know the one?”
I nodded. For
weeks after I’d first seen that movie I’d wanted an oompa loompa as a playmate.
He moved in close
and nosed my hair away from my ear to whisper
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