Read Online Miss Greenhorn by Diana Palmer - Free Book Online Page A

lips for him, inviting the thrust of his tongue into the soft, warm darkness of her mouth.
    Fever, she thought while she could. It burned like a vicious fever. She wanted to be closer to him. She wanted to be without her clothing so that he could cool her hot skin by touching it with his lean, strong hands. She wanted his touch as she’d never wanted anything.
    He seemed to know it, too, because he lifted her and snapped the fastening of her bra. Then he looked into her eyes and slid his hand over her naked breast, watching the expression that washed over her face.
    â€œYes, it’s good, isn’t it?” he asked gruffly. “Feeling my hands on your body, my mouth on your mouth. And this is just the beginning. Hasn’t it been like this before?”
    â€œNo,” she whispered brokenly. She shivered as he began to raise the hem of her blouse.
    â€œThere isn’t another soul within twenty miles of us,” he breathed, letting his eyes slide down to the bareness of her white skin as he pushed the offending fabric away and left her bare to the collarbone. His breath caught at the sight of her pretty breasts, pink-tipped, firm and peach-colored. He couldn’t get enough of the sight of her. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He bent his head and opened his mouth, taking her inside.
    Christy wept. It was the sweetest agony she’d ever known. His eyes on her body, the expression on his face that told her she was beautiful to him, the feel of his mouth against her tender skin. She clung to him, arching herself up to his lips, begging for the feel of them on her body. She thought she wouldn’t survive the pleasure, and then he turned her into him and brought her hips against his with one fierce jerk of his lean hand.
    She’d never experienced the feel of a man’s aroused body. It terrified her. She cared for him and she didn’t want to ask him to stop, but it was going to be too late if she waited much longer. Judging by the feel of him, and the faint shudder of his powerful body, he wasn’t going to be too eager to stop anyway. He was sophisticated and he seemed to feel that she was, too. She didn’t understand why he was letting things go this far. She’d told him she was a greenhorn, but perhaps he’d misunderstood.
    She had to force her lips not to cling when he lifted his head. She could imagine how she looked, with her mouth swollen and her body half bare to his eyes. It was agony to stop.
    â€œPlease,” she whispered, putting a trembling hand against his broad chest.
    â€œUnbutton it,” he said, his voice rough, his eyes glittering with desire.
    â€œWhat?”
    He snapped open the buttons, disclosing a chest thick with curly black hair. “Here.” He dragged one of her hands to the hard, warm muscles and buried her fingers in the thick hair. “This is what I like,” he breathed, moving her hand against him, groaning at the delicious touch.
    She felt her other hand joining the first one, too entranced by the forbidden delight to deny it to her starving senses. She touched him, fascinated with the way he felt under her hands, the wiry abrasion of hair tickling her fingers. He arched under her touch, just as she had under his, and she caught her breath to know that she could give back the pleasure he was showing her.
    â€œChristy,” he groaned. He bent to her mouth, dragging her body against his so that they melted together, skin against hair-roughened skin.
    She cried out at the surge of feverish pleasure the contact gave her, at the hunger it rekindled to feel his aroused body so close to hers. But when he rolled her onto her back and moved over her, trapping her beneath his powerful legs, she panicked.
    Her eyes flew open. “No!” she whispered shakily, meeting his hot gaze. “No, Nate, please! I can’t!”
    â€œCan’t, the devil,” he said, his voice biting as he stared down at her,