Read Online No More Mr. Nice Guy by Jennifer Greene - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Greene
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dim light, the smell of books and the muted sound of laughter and conversation in the distance. Anyone could come up here. And those who did so would find some very harsh breathing, a woman not fighting a seduction very hard and a man whose tongue was making delicious little snipes on the shell of her ear.
Shivers whispered through her. This just wasn’t possible, not in the middle of a medical convention. Sex was a serious business, involving commitment and intimacy and worry that it would go well and that he wouldn’t make fun of the dimple on her fanny. It wasn’t the passionate abandonment she’d discovered in herself in a barn on a Saturday morning. And it certainly wasn’t…well…just fun for its own sake.
Strange, but she seemed to be having an incredible amount of fun. Of course, maybe she had an instant case of flu that was making her nipples perky and all the heat in her body settle in that one tiny spot. Or maybe she was going crazy, because Alan’s hand had just discovered that her skirt parted like the Red Sea and she was searching for his lips like a wanton hussy who couldn’t get enough. She heard his throaty chuckle of approval, loved it.
Naughty was nice, a delicious discovery. Carroll suddenly wanted to go home. There had been a lot of good reasons why she’d postponed their sexual relationship, the main one being her unwillingness to lead Alan on, since she wasn’t sure she wanted marriage. At the moment, she didn’t care about leading him on, she didn’t care about marriage, she didn’t care about relationships. For the first time, she was absolutely sure everything was going to be right, and all she wanted was for him to take her home to bed.
Alan had wanted little more than to take Carroll to bed for months. His body calmly informed him that if he waited much longer, he’d be better off signing up for a class in torture. Inviting more torture, he slid his hands to her bottom, urging her lower body to rub where he was hurting most. His head dropped to her shoulder. He planned to regain control any minute now. The warmth of her cuddled against him, the softness of her hair, and the sound of that sweet, sweet hoarseness coming from her throat weren’t helping.
“Alan…”
“Hmm?” She tried to move back; he wouldn’t let her. So he liked torture. So? He’d never guessed she could be like this, so responsive, so vulnerable, so …sensual. Or that, as a man, he could have made her feel that way.
“Have I told you how much I loved the roses?” she murmured in his ear.
He smiled, eyes still closed. “You’ve certainly been trying to convince me for several days that someone sent you roses.”
Again, she tried to pull back, and this time he let her, just to see the sudden laughter in her eyes. Her lips were moist, her cheeks all high color. “They were sent anonymously,” she said gravely.
“I’ll kill him.”
She laughed then, a private laugh not loud enough for anyone else to hear. “They were beautiful. They’re still beautiful.”
“Are they?”
“You know something?” She dropped her eyes to his collar, and started to straighten it. Her smile hovered, then vanished. “No one’s ever given me roses,” she said casually.
“The world’s full of fools, then,” he murmured. As he very obviously had been for a long time. If so little romancing made her so much more responsive, he was suddenly aware how badly he’d failed her before. And that there was endless sensual potential in this lady…if he could just convince his own body to be patient.
Unfortunately, his hormones were tired of all his patience, and were rioting within him, demanding release. A faint frown creased his brow, immediately erased when she looked up at him. “Ready to leave?”
Her eyes met his. “Yes.” Surely he couldn’t fail to understand what she was saying yes to?
She was just a little nervous as he started to drive. Something this good…she just didn’t want the bubble to
Shivers whispered through her. This just wasn’t possible, not in the middle of a medical convention. Sex was a serious business, involving commitment and intimacy and worry that it would go well and that he wouldn’t make fun of the dimple on her fanny. It wasn’t the passionate abandonment she’d discovered in herself in a barn on a Saturday morning. And it certainly wasn’t…well…just fun for its own sake.
Strange, but she seemed to be having an incredible amount of fun. Of course, maybe she had an instant case of flu that was making her nipples perky and all the heat in her body settle in that one tiny spot. Or maybe she was going crazy, because Alan’s hand had just discovered that her skirt parted like the Red Sea and she was searching for his lips like a wanton hussy who couldn’t get enough. She heard his throaty chuckle of approval, loved it.
Naughty was nice, a delicious discovery. Carroll suddenly wanted to go home. There had been a lot of good reasons why she’d postponed their sexual relationship, the main one being her unwillingness to lead Alan on, since she wasn’t sure she wanted marriage. At the moment, she didn’t care about leading him on, she didn’t care about marriage, she didn’t care about relationships. For the first time, she was absolutely sure everything was going to be right, and all she wanted was for him to take her home to bed.
Alan had wanted little more than to take Carroll to bed for months. His body calmly informed him that if he waited much longer, he’d be better off signing up for a class in torture. Inviting more torture, he slid his hands to her bottom, urging her lower body to rub where he was hurting most. His head dropped to her shoulder. He planned to regain control any minute now. The warmth of her cuddled against him, the softness of her hair, and the sound of that sweet, sweet hoarseness coming from her throat weren’t helping.
“Alan…”
“Hmm?” She tried to move back; he wouldn’t let her. So he liked torture. So? He’d never guessed she could be like this, so responsive, so vulnerable, so …sensual. Or that, as a man, he could have made her feel that way.
“Have I told you how much I loved the roses?” she murmured in his ear.
He smiled, eyes still closed. “You’ve certainly been trying to convince me for several days that someone sent you roses.”
Again, she tried to pull back, and this time he let her, just to see the sudden laughter in her eyes. Her lips were moist, her cheeks all high color. “They were sent anonymously,” she said gravely.
“I’ll kill him.”
She laughed then, a private laugh not loud enough for anyone else to hear. “They were beautiful. They’re still beautiful.”
“Are they?”
“You know something?” She dropped her eyes to his collar, and started to straighten it. Her smile hovered, then vanished. “No one’s ever given me roses,” she said casually.
“The world’s full of fools, then,” he murmured. As he very obviously had been for a long time. If so little romancing made her so much more responsive, he was suddenly aware how badly he’d failed her before. And that there was endless sensual potential in this lady…if he could just convince his own body to be patient.
Unfortunately, his hormones were tired of all his patience, and were rioting within him, demanding release. A faint frown creased his brow, immediately erased when she looked up at him. “Ready to leave?”
Her eyes met his. “Yes.” Surely he couldn’t fail to understand what she was saying yes to?
She was just a little nervous as he started to drive. Something this good…she just didn’t want the bubble to
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