Read Online Jane Bonander by Warrior Heart - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Warrior Heart
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world.”
Libby’s gaze roamed to his thumb, and she swallowed hard, remembering Mahalia’s comparison. It wasn’t just his thumb that was big; his entire hand was huge.
She shook her head, trying to empty it of foolish musings. “It’s just like a man to think his problems lie elsewhere, when they usually begin within the man himself.”
He frowned, tossing off the remainder of his brandy. “Are you insulting me?”
She pushed her hair away from her face. “I’m surprised you’re sober enough to realize it.”
He sat before her, grinning like a wicked cat, his arms resting on the chair and his legs spread wide. “Your hair shimmers in the firelight like rich red wine. I’d love to bury my face in it.”
She turned abruptly toward the fire, allowing the image to form in her mind. Her insides were a-tumble, her blood ran hot. Despite his drunken state, he was beside her in an instant, his huge hand enveloping hers.
Tingles sped up her arm, yet she continued to study the fire, her heart racing. “What are you doing?”
“I’m collecting my kiss.”
“Don’t—” She gasped, attempting to wrench free, but he tugged her close. His body was hard against hers, and she was forced to tilt her head back to look into his face. Desire should have softened his features, yet they were tight and as hot as iron freshly pulled from a furnace. The intensity in his eyes both excited and frightened her.
“Let me go.”
“I should.” His fingers raked her hair, and his palm cupped the back of her head. “I would, if I were sober. Hell, if I were sober, I’d be in bed, thinking about kissing you instead of doing it.”
She was just getting used to the smell of brandy on his breath when his mouth came down on hers. He blatantly parted her lips with his tongue. She pressed her fists against his shoulders, yet she had no strength to ward him off or push him away.
The kiss deepened. The stubble around his mouth chafed her skin, and she liked it. Oh, God, she liked it…He tasted of brandy, and as if that small tidbit had power of its own, it gave her a feeling of intoxication, as if she’d had a drink herself.
His mouth was harsh one moment, then soft, pliant…pleading. His tongue played with hers, and something inside Libby burst, sending hot seeds of pleasure tumbling through her blood. His knee parted her thighs, a movement that brought her closer to him, and she captured his leg between hers, as if by doing so she might satisfy the ache in her belly.
He finally lifted his head, but Libby was swimming with desire and didn’t have the strength to open her eyes.
“I gotta tell you something, Libby.”
The sound of her name on his tongue was almost as arousing as the kiss. Almost. Libby took a deep breath and forced herself to move away. She touched her face, aware of the tingling left not only from his kiss but from his beard. In an instant she felt ashamed, the sensation a strong antidote to her desire.
“I don’t think we have anything more to talk about.” She moved awkwardly toward the door. Her legs felt like useless water-soaked pegs.
“Oh, I think you’re gonna wanna hear what I have to say. Hell, Libby, I gotta say it or I’ll bust wide open.”
She waited near the door, eyeing him warily. “So say it.”
Several emotions flickered across his face, and his gaze never left hers. “You’re not gonna like it.”
His slur was becoming worse. His plastered state began to disgust her. “Just say it, you drunken lout, and let me go to bed.”
He rested his hand on the fireplace mantel. “Do you sleep alone?”
Her insides jumped; her nerves were as taut as piano wire. “That’s none of your business. Tell me what you want to say, so I can go.”
There was a mysterious shimmering in his eyes, and his smile disappeared. It appeared again, although it was a smile of an entirely different sort. “You’ve got a damned fine ass, Mrs. O’Malley.”
She gasped. “That’s what you had to
Libby’s gaze roamed to his thumb, and she swallowed hard, remembering Mahalia’s comparison. It wasn’t just his thumb that was big; his entire hand was huge.
She shook her head, trying to empty it of foolish musings. “It’s just like a man to think his problems lie elsewhere, when they usually begin within the man himself.”
He frowned, tossing off the remainder of his brandy. “Are you insulting me?”
She pushed her hair away from her face. “I’m surprised you’re sober enough to realize it.”
He sat before her, grinning like a wicked cat, his arms resting on the chair and his legs spread wide. “Your hair shimmers in the firelight like rich red wine. I’d love to bury my face in it.”
She turned abruptly toward the fire, allowing the image to form in her mind. Her insides were a-tumble, her blood ran hot. Despite his drunken state, he was beside her in an instant, his huge hand enveloping hers.
Tingles sped up her arm, yet she continued to study the fire, her heart racing. “What are you doing?”
“I’m collecting my kiss.”
“Don’t—” She gasped, attempting to wrench free, but he tugged her close. His body was hard against hers, and she was forced to tilt her head back to look into his face. Desire should have softened his features, yet they were tight and as hot as iron freshly pulled from a furnace. The intensity in his eyes both excited and frightened her.
“Let me go.”
“I should.” His fingers raked her hair, and his palm cupped the back of her head. “I would, if I were sober. Hell, if I were sober, I’d be in bed, thinking about kissing you instead of doing it.”
She was just getting used to the smell of brandy on his breath when his mouth came down on hers. He blatantly parted her lips with his tongue. She pressed her fists against his shoulders, yet she had no strength to ward him off or push him away.
The kiss deepened. The stubble around his mouth chafed her skin, and she liked it. Oh, God, she liked it…He tasted of brandy, and as if that small tidbit had power of its own, it gave her a feeling of intoxication, as if she’d had a drink herself.
His mouth was harsh one moment, then soft, pliant…pleading. His tongue played with hers, and something inside Libby burst, sending hot seeds of pleasure tumbling through her blood. His knee parted her thighs, a movement that brought her closer to him, and she captured his leg between hers, as if by doing so she might satisfy the ache in her belly.
He finally lifted his head, but Libby was swimming with desire and didn’t have the strength to open her eyes.
“I gotta tell you something, Libby.”
The sound of her name on his tongue was almost as arousing as the kiss. Almost. Libby took a deep breath and forced herself to move away. She touched her face, aware of the tingling left not only from his kiss but from his beard. In an instant she felt ashamed, the sensation a strong antidote to her desire.
“I don’t think we have anything more to talk about.” She moved awkwardly toward the door. Her legs felt like useless water-soaked pegs.
“Oh, I think you’re gonna wanna hear what I have to say. Hell, Libby, I gotta say it or I’ll bust wide open.”
She waited near the door, eyeing him warily. “So say it.”
Several emotions flickered across his face, and his gaze never left hers. “You’re not gonna like it.”
His slur was becoming worse. His plastered state began to disgust her. “Just say it, you drunken lout, and let me go to bed.”
He rested his hand on the fireplace mantel. “Do you sleep alone?”
Her insides jumped; her nerves were as taut as piano wire. “That’s none of your business. Tell me what you want to say, so I can go.”
There was a mysterious shimmering in his eyes, and his smile disappeared. It appeared again, although it was a smile of an entirely different sort. “You’ve got a damned fine ass, Mrs. O’Malley.”
She gasped. “That’s what you had to
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