Read Online Just a Little Misgiving (Shades of Deception, Book 3) by Mallory Rush - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mallory Rush
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your breasts."
In answer she reached for the first button, but her hands were damp and trembling so hard, she couldn't slip it free.
"It's reassuring to know I'm not the only one with a case of the shakes," he said with a low, seductive chuckle. He brushed her hands aside and began to work the buttons with a slow sureness that made his claim of awkwardness seem without merit.
One. Two. Three. And then there were none. He parted her blouse and she watched amazed as he closed his eyes with an expression of ecstasy and nuzzled her cleavage while he unlatched the front clasp of her bra.
She could feel the warm dampness of his breath, the cool wisp of air against her skin as he peeled off her bra and dropped it to the floor. He pulled away and their gazes locked with charged passion straining at the leash. And then slowly, deliberately his gaze moved downward.
He made a sound of delight, of hunger. "Oh, Lord," he whispered, "you're too beautiful. Too beautiful to look at and not taste."
His mouth skimmed over her flushed breasts, which felt fuller, more sensitive and aching than she could bear. Still she endured. She endured the sweetest agony she'd ever dreamed possible when his tongue glided over her, then swirled and probed the buds that were distended and feverish.
"Ahh," she cried softly as he closed his lips around her.
"Do you know how you taste?" He nipped her gently before lightly grazing each nipple with a day's growth of beard. "Like a forbidden fruit in a garden that just had the gates thrown open. I've been looking and wanting, and now that I've got you, I can't get enough." He lifted his head, and she saw the deepness, the openness of his greed.
"Then take more," she whispered. "More..." She clutched blindly, gathering his hair into her fist. There was a small hesitation before his lips brushed over hers, and their open mouths met.
She could hear their labored breathing, could smell the scents of their bodies mingling with heady desire. Urgently she slid her hands between them and tried to strip him of the shirt that robbed them of the feel of flesh against flesh.
Without breaking the kiss he jerked his shirt off. The buttons scattered over the bed and onto the floor, but she was only vaguely aware of the popping sounds, the whisper of a garment falling next to hers. He brushed his chest against her, and she reveled in the roughness of his hair.
He shifted until she lay on the mattress and he was beside her. Tasting faintly of the Scotch he'd had earlier, his mouth continued to work against her own in a voracious taking and giving.
How long they mated with tongues and tiny bites of slick, hard teeth, she had no way of knowing.
With a final plundering of each other's mouths, he broke the kiss. She was afraid to open her eyes, afraid to let a measure of reality spoil the dream. But then he kissed each eyelid, and said, "Open your eyes. Look at me. There's something I need to see."
She couldn't deny him that, she couldn't deny him anything, so she did look at him. What she saw was almost staggering and all but singed her with its heated intensity.
"What do you see, Myles?"
"Something better than a fantasy. A woman who wants me as much as I want her." He wedged his hand between her knees. "A woman who needs to be touched as much as I need to touch her."
He moved his hand slowly upward and she could feel herself giving way to the insistent pressure of his palm. Close to the juncture that was crying for him, he stopped and kneaded her inner thigh.
"Do you want me to touch you?"
She nodded her head in a short, jerky affirmation.
"Then say, 'Touch me, Myles. Touch me there.' Let me hear your voice so that I know I'm not dreaming."
"Touch me... there. Please, touch me everywhere."
She was surprised she could speak through the pounding in her ears, in her heart. Inside her...
"Oh, oh..." Who was saying the single word over and over? Was it her, or was it him, or were they both uttering the moan of
In answer she reached for the first button, but her hands were damp and trembling so hard, she couldn't slip it free.
"It's reassuring to know I'm not the only one with a case of the shakes," he said with a low, seductive chuckle. He brushed her hands aside and began to work the buttons with a slow sureness that made his claim of awkwardness seem without merit.
One. Two. Three. And then there were none. He parted her blouse and she watched amazed as he closed his eyes with an expression of ecstasy and nuzzled her cleavage while he unlatched the front clasp of her bra.
She could feel the warm dampness of his breath, the cool wisp of air against her skin as he peeled off her bra and dropped it to the floor. He pulled away and their gazes locked with charged passion straining at the leash. And then slowly, deliberately his gaze moved downward.
He made a sound of delight, of hunger. "Oh, Lord," he whispered, "you're too beautiful. Too beautiful to look at and not taste."
His mouth skimmed over her flushed breasts, which felt fuller, more sensitive and aching than she could bear. Still she endured. She endured the sweetest agony she'd ever dreamed possible when his tongue glided over her, then swirled and probed the buds that were distended and feverish.
"Ahh," she cried softly as he closed his lips around her.
"Do you know how you taste?" He nipped her gently before lightly grazing each nipple with a day's growth of beard. "Like a forbidden fruit in a garden that just had the gates thrown open. I've been looking and wanting, and now that I've got you, I can't get enough." He lifted his head, and she saw the deepness, the openness of his greed.
"Then take more," she whispered. "More..." She clutched blindly, gathering his hair into her fist. There was a small hesitation before his lips brushed over hers, and their open mouths met.
She could hear their labored breathing, could smell the scents of their bodies mingling with heady desire. Urgently she slid her hands between them and tried to strip him of the shirt that robbed them of the feel of flesh against flesh.
Without breaking the kiss he jerked his shirt off. The buttons scattered over the bed and onto the floor, but she was only vaguely aware of the popping sounds, the whisper of a garment falling next to hers. He brushed his chest against her, and she reveled in the roughness of his hair.
He shifted until she lay on the mattress and he was beside her. Tasting faintly of the Scotch he'd had earlier, his mouth continued to work against her own in a voracious taking and giving.
How long they mated with tongues and tiny bites of slick, hard teeth, she had no way of knowing.
With a final plundering of each other's mouths, he broke the kiss. She was afraid to open her eyes, afraid to let a measure of reality spoil the dream. But then he kissed each eyelid, and said, "Open your eyes. Look at me. There's something I need to see."
She couldn't deny him that, she couldn't deny him anything, so she did look at him. What she saw was almost staggering and all but singed her with its heated intensity.
"What do you see, Myles?"
"Something better than a fantasy. A woman who wants me as much as I want her." He wedged his hand between her knees. "A woman who needs to be touched as much as I need to touch her."
He moved his hand slowly upward and she could feel herself giving way to the insistent pressure of his palm. Close to the juncture that was crying for him, he stopped and kneaded her inner thigh.
"Do you want me to touch you?"
She nodded her head in a short, jerky affirmation.
"Then say, 'Touch me, Myles. Touch me there.' Let me hear your voice so that I know I'm not dreaming."
"Touch me... there. Please, touch me everywhere."
She was surprised she could speak through the pounding in her ears, in her heart. Inside her...
"Oh, oh..." Who was saying the single word over and over? Was it her, or was it him, or were they both uttering the moan of
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