Read Online One More Kiss by Kim Amos - Free Book Online Page B

for so long.
    Her mouth was hot and alive. She moaned and twined against him. He felt the fullness of her breasts against his chest. He palmed his way from her waist, up her ribs, grazing her sides. She raked her fingers through his hair, pulling hard enough to cause pain. He didn’t mind. In fact, he welcomed it.
    “Randall,” she breathed, and his name on her lips sent molten lust coursing through his bloodstream. He kneed apart her legs and hiked up her skirt. The tights were black and thick. He reached for them, wanting to tear away every inch of clothing that stood between them. He grabbed the fabric and wrenched it from her skin, the rip like a sound of victory.
    She gasped as his fingers found the flesh of her inner thigh, creamy and white and suddenly exposed. Her body shuddered.
    “Touch me,” she said, her back arching slightly.
    He inched his fingertips higher, and her body quaked. She clutched his shoulders, her fingers digging into his skin, even through his sport coat.
    “I want you,” he said, even as he knew he should profess something besides raw desire. Commitment probably. They should start with that. They should take it slow. He should conduct himself with more integrity.
    Nevertheless, his fingertips strained toward her center. She moaned again.
    “Tell me how it feels,” he said, sliding the fabric of underwear aside, and touching her. She was soft and wet and he almost lost himself right there. His blood was pumping in a way he hadn’t known for years.
    She answered him with a kiss instead of words, driving the motion of it, letting her tongue lead his in strokes and swirls. It seemed impossible that he could want this woman any more than he had previously. But his body was somehow engulfed even more, his brain was filled with her scent, the small noises she made deep in her throat, the solidness of her fingers grabbing at him.
    He pushed past her folds, inserting a finger. She threw back her head and gasped. He kissed the exposed arc of her neck, losing himself in the feel of her skin.
    “More,” she demanded, and he inserted another finger.
    She smiled then—her hair tousled, her eyes bright with want—and an ache spread through his chest. She was beautiful and strong and perfect. He could not hurt this woman. He would not.
    His determination to do right by her had doubt suddenly crawling along his spine. Perhaps they should take things more slowly. Perhaps he should take her out to dinner. Maybe go see a movie. But then his eyes landed on her breasts, her nipples straining under the fabric, and his desire erupted anew. His pulse raced.
    He wanted Betty Lindholm. And he wanted her now. It was exactly the kind of jarring, overwhelming desire he hadn’t felt in years. It left him tasting fear. And a bone-deep thrill.
    He was nearly ready to have her right there on the floor of the shop, when the bell tinkled over the front door. Betty’s eyes widened, and she pulled away from him. He felt the absence keenly, his fingers finding only cold air where her warm skin had been.
    “Yoo-hoo! Betty!”
    Randall straightened at the voice.
    “Shit,” Betty muttered, her face suddenly pale. She tugged on her skirt and tried to fix her stockings. “Shit, shit.”
    The next thing he knew, Valerie Lofgren was standing in front of them wearing a plum-colored suit and her customary string of pearls. It only took a moment for the wide smile to fade from her lips as she took in his rumpled hair, Betty’s destroyed tights, and their flushed skin.
    “Hello, Valerie,” he said, trying to keep his voice controlled and calm.
    Valerie blinked. “I—I just came for my—that is, my markers? Are they in?”
    Her eyes flitted briefly to his crotch, where his erection still raged. Her skin flamed crimson.
    “Of course,” Betty said, forcing a smile. “Let me just grab them.” Looking like she was scraping together every shred of dignity she had, she went behind the cash register and fumbled for the right