Read Online Nacho Figueras Presents by Jessica Whitman - Free Book Online Page B

rolls, some tiny dark green olives glistening with olive oil, and pale pink slices of prosciutto. She looked at him in wonder. “All this was just sitting there, below deck?”
    He shrugged, opening the bottle of wine. “As I said, there’s a crew. It’s always kept ready, just in case. Wine?”
    She nodded and watched as he poured a glass full of golden liquid and handed it to her. He filled another glass with sparkling water.
    “You’re not having any?”
    He shook his head, “I don’t drink when I’m in training.”
    She cocked her head at him. “I would think that you might make an exception, after the day you’ve had.”
    He leaned back and sighed. “You know what? You’re right.” He poured another glass of the wine, took a sip, and smiled. “Ah.”
    Georgia filled her plate, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t eaten anything since brunch that morning. “I’m starving,” she said to him as she took a big, juicy bite of a plum.
    He laughed. “Apparently.”
    She swallowed. “So, what happens when the game ends halfway through like that? Will you play that team again?”
    His face darkened. “No, we forfeit.” He took another drink.
    “Oh. I’m so sorry.”
    “For what?”
    “Well, if I hadn’t decided to flop down onto the field like that, I suppose you might have won.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.” He turned toward her. “If you hadn’t come onto the field, I would have lost my favorite pony.” He put his hand on her wrist. “God, I haven’t even thanked you yet. What you did was so brave, and I am so very grateful. I don’t think I could have taken it if I’d lost MacKenzie.”
    His eyes were the truest blue she’d ever seen, thought Georgia as she looked into his face. Beautiful against the dark tan of his skin. His mouth was almost as ripe and inviting as the plum she was eating. And his hand on her arm was causing her heart to beat triple time. She was absurdly glad for the shadows, hoping that they hid the flush that she knew stained her cheeks.
    “I just did what anyone would do,” she said softly.
    He squeezed her arm tighter. She caught her breath. “Not at all.” His voice was hoarse. “You saw what no one else saw, and you acted. You saved a life.”
    She blinked. “No, really, I—”
    And just like that, he leaned down, took her face in his hands, and kissed her.
    Georgia had been kissed her fair share in life, but she had never been kissed like this before. This kiss was gentle and urgent, hard and soft at the same time. This kiss suffused her with warmth and sent crackling bolts of electricity all through her limbs. This kiss made her toes curl, and her breath catch in her throat. This kiss melted her to her very core and pulled her inexorably toward him. She reached one hand up and stroked his hair; it was like raw silk, slipping through her fingers. He made a low sound, almost a growl, and kissed her even deeper, parting her lips with a dart of his tongue and then entering to languorously explore. She tasted the wine he’d been drinking, and the salt on his lips. He pulled her closer, and she writhed up against him, locking her hands at the back of his head, pressing her breasts against his broad, hard chest. She could feel his heart beat, and it felt as wild as her own.
    Suddenly, the image of the young, dark-haired woman she had seen him with earlier that day swam before her eyes. She wrenched herself away with a gasp. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but this is a bad idea.”
    He looked at her face, his breath coming in short, hard pants. “No,” he said roughly. “No, it’s not.” And he kissed her again. But this kiss was not gentle at all. This kiss was demanding and full of need, and she felt herself answer him, kissing him back with an urgency that untethered her. His hands slid through her hair and then roamed down her throat and it felt as if his fingers were trailing sparks wherever they touched her. He ran a finger over the bare skin at her