Read Online My Only Love by Katherine Sutcliffe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katherine Sutcliffe
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he was smart he'd send her scrambling
back to her father with a message that Miles Kemball Warwick was nobody's fool
when it came to women, he couldn't possibly be seduced into marriage; but he
wasn't feeling so smart at that moment. Far from it. And he'd been a hell of a
long time without a woman . . .
He
breathed in her ear.
She
gasped.
He
nuzzled the soft, fragrant skin along the underside of her jaw.
She
melted against him.
He
kissed her, tentatively at first, a brash of his mouth on the corner of hers,
then a slow, easy glide of his lips onto hers that were trembling and far
softer than he'd imagined. And he touched his tongue to hers. And buried his
hand into her hair, fondling the curve of her head and holding it closely,
possessively while the nerve endings in his body expanded to minute pinpoints
of pleasure and pain.
Olivia
groaned with the ecstasy of it, the drugging wonder of it that momentarily
deprived her of all power of thought, movement, or denial. The arousing warmth
and wetness of his mouth was intoxicating, overwhelming. Never had she
imagined it would feel like this. Taste like this. She'd waited a lifetime to
experience this moment with him.
Don't
stop! her mind cried, and her body responded hungrily by pressing closer, by
parting her lips eagerly to allow the plunge of his tongue against hers, where
he thrust and withdrew and thrust again in a rhythm that made her body turn
liquid and quivering and helpless. With only a slight hesitation, she slid her
arms around his neck and buried one hand in his glorious hair, as she had
dreamt of doing for most of her life, and kissed him back with an abandonment
that would have shocked even herself just moments before.
He
pulled away. Suddenly. Breathing hard. His eyes burning.
Reality
crashed in on her.
Miles
backed away. They stood facing one another in clumsy silence for several
moments.
At
last, Miles backed away and moved across the room. He propped himself against
the desk and crossed his arms over his chest as he focused hard on her face,
his own disquietude obvious.
"Who
was he?" he demanded in a husky voice. "Or rather, who is he?"
She
frowned and glanced desperately at the hairpins scattered over the floor. She
couldn't think.
"Don't
pretend to be daft. You know who I mean. The boy's father. Who is he?"
This
sudden turn of topics left Olivia even more rattled, if that were possible.
The fact that he had approached the subject of her son so straightforwardly
caused the room to turn unbearably warm. "That is none of your
business," she finally managed.
"Your
father made it my business."
"You
rejected my father's offer, therefore it is not."
"Did
you love him?"
Where
was her cloak? On the settee. She'd be forced to walk directly by him to fetch
it. She wasn't certain she could, not with her knees feeling like aspic and her
heart jumping like a March hare in her breast. How foolish to think she could
confront a man as undisciplined as Miles Warwick and expect to come out of it
unscathed.
She
did her best to focus her thoughts on escape.
"Do
I know him?" came his voice.
"I
really must be going." She started for the sofa.
"Is
he local?"
"I
shouldn't have come here. It was silly really ..."
"Does
he know about the boy?"
"The
boy's name is Bryan."
"Does
he help support the boy?"
"Bryan.
His name is Bryan," she stressed with a growing sense of frustration.
"Is
he married? Obviously, or he would've married you. Are you still lovers?"
Moving before her, he blocked her way to the settee, bringing her to stop
short. Still, she refused to meet his look directly, and proceeded to walk
around him. He stopped her again by stepping sideward. "I've politely
asked you a question," he said.
"As
politely, I have told you that my affairs are of no concern to you."
"You
must have loved him very much since you continue to protect his name and
reputation, while yours has been blown to perdition."
"I
really must be going. If you please—"
"I
have
back to her father with a message that Miles Kemball Warwick was nobody's fool
when it came to women, he couldn't possibly be seduced into marriage; but he
wasn't feeling so smart at that moment. Far from it. And he'd been a hell of a
long time without a woman . . .
He
breathed in her ear.
She
gasped.
He
nuzzled the soft, fragrant skin along the underside of her jaw.
She
melted against him.
He
kissed her, tentatively at first, a brash of his mouth on the corner of hers,
then a slow, easy glide of his lips onto hers that were trembling and far
softer than he'd imagined. And he touched his tongue to hers. And buried his
hand into her hair, fondling the curve of her head and holding it closely,
possessively while the nerve endings in his body expanded to minute pinpoints
of pleasure and pain.
Olivia
groaned with the ecstasy of it, the drugging wonder of it that momentarily
deprived her of all power of thought, movement, or denial. The arousing warmth
and wetness of his mouth was intoxicating, overwhelming. Never had she
imagined it would feel like this. Taste like this. She'd waited a lifetime to
experience this moment with him.
Don't
stop! her mind cried, and her body responded hungrily by pressing closer, by
parting her lips eagerly to allow the plunge of his tongue against hers, where
he thrust and withdrew and thrust again in a rhythm that made her body turn
liquid and quivering and helpless. With only a slight hesitation, she slid her
arms around his neck and buried one hand in his glorious hair, as she had
dreamt of doing for most of her life, and kissed him back with an abandonment
that would have shocked even herself just moments before.
He
pulled away. Suddenly. Breathing hard. His eyes burning.
Reality
crashed in on her.
Miles
backed away. They stood facing one another in clumsy silence for several
moments.
At
last, Miles backed away and moved across the room. He propped himself against
the desk and crossed his arms over his chest as he focused hard on her face,
his own disquietude obvious.
"Who
was he?" he demanded in a husky voice. "Or rather, who is he?"
She
frowned and glanced desperately at the hairpins scattered over the floor. She
couldn't think.
"Don't
pretend to be daft. You know who I mean. The boy's father. Who is he?"
This
sudden turn of topics left Olivia even more rattled, if that were possible.
The fact that he had approached the subject of her son so straightforwardly
caused the room to turn unbearably warm. "That is none of your
business," she finally managed.
"Your
father made it my business."
"You
rejected my father's offer, therefore it is not."
"Did
you love him?"
Where
was her cloak? On the settee. She'd be forced to walk directly by him to fetch
it. She wasn't certain she could, not with her knees feeling like aspic and her
heart jumping like a March hare in her breast. How foolish to think she could
confront a man as undisciplined as Miles Warwick and expect to come out of it
unscathed.
She
did her best to focus her thoughts on escape.
"Do
I know him?" came his voice.
"I
really must be going." She started for the sofa.
"Is
he local?"
"I
shouldn't have come here. It was silly really ..."
"Does
he know about the boy?"
"The
boy's name is Bryan."
"Does
he help support the boy?"
"Bryan.
His name is Bryan," she stressed with a growing sense of frustration.
"Is
he married? Obviously, or he would've married you. Are you still lovers?"
Moving before her, he blocked her way to the settee, bringing her to stop
short. Still, she refused to meet his look directly, and proceeded to walk
around him. He stopped her again by stepping sideward. "I've politely
asked you a question," he said.
"As
politely, I have told you that my affairs are of no concern to you."
"You
must have loved him very much since you continue to protect his name and
reputation, while yours has been blown to perdition."
"I
really must be going. If you please—"
"I
have
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