Read Online Promises to Keep by Rose Marie Ferris - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rose Marie Ferris
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vanished and her expression softened as he made this admission. "God!" he exclaimed, "you run like a deer, and once you'd left the trail you had the advantage of size. You went straight through brush that I had to go around."
Although he had expressed concern for her well-being, his grip on her hadn't relaxed. He held her spread-eagled and his hands were like manacles about her wrists. In her discomfort, she stirred uneasily, feeling bruised and ill-treated. As she did so, she became intensely aware of the muscular length of his thighs resting intimately between hers, of the hardness of his chest crushing her breasts.
Suddenly there was an unbearable tension between them and in desperation Julie erupted into motion, renewing her struggles to escape him.
This time it was Garth who had not anticipated her attack and she almost succeeded in freeing herself. She derived some satisfaction from the fact that his breathing was nearly as heavy as hers when he finally managed to subdue her. His fingers tightened around her wrist, dwarfing it as they overlapped to measure its circumference.
"Damn, but you're strong!" he complimented her with grudging admiration. "For all that your wrists are about as big as matchsticks! Where do you hide all your muscles?"
His eyes wandered freely over her shoulders and arms and again she thrashed about, but this time her efforts were short-lived. He was prepared for such tactics and he controlled her easily.
"Get off me, you great heavy ox," she gasped. "I can't breathe."
"You've certainly changed your tune," he observed, showing a callous lack of sympathy for her plight. "You never used to tell me that—at least, not this early in the game." His actions contradicted his words, however, and he complied with her request, shifting slightly away from her and supporting the weight of his torso with his elbows.
No sooner had this been accomplished, than Julie had cause to regret her complaint. As a result of Garth's change of position, her shirt gapped open to the waist, revealing the full curve of her breasts.
Under the fire of his dilated gaze, she felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. The lacy bra she was wearing provided little protection from his bold inspection of her. Not only that, her body had turned traitor and her excitement was transparently clear. All he'd had to do was
look
at her and the rosy nipples had grown saucily erect.
"You've torn your shirt," Garth murmured thickly, "and you've hurt yourself."
Even as he pointed this out, she became aware of the sting of the scratch. In her mind's eye she could see, as he must, the droplets of blood that had been drawn by the thorn when it inflicted the wound, saw the way their redness emphasized the ivory pallor of her skin.
Her pulse clamored unevenly in the hollow of her throat and she felt strangely boneless. An alien heat and langour had invaded her limbs and she was caught up in the inevitability of whatever was about to happen.
Unable to stop him, not wanting to stop him, she watched as Garth lowered his head and touched his mouth to the scratch that marred the creamy flesh. With infinite slowness, he traced its jagged course with his lips while his fingers deftly released the fastening of her bra to bare her breasts completely.
She instinctively arched her back and her eyes closed weakly when, at last, the sweet warmth of his mouth abandoned the silkiness of skin to take possession of the tightly budded velvet of the nipple. Softly, so softly, he cherished it, coaxing it into full bloom with his tongue, savoring it with exquisite thoroughness.
Julie yearned to wrap her arms around him and draw him even closer to her, to hold him tightly and never let him go. The desire to prolong the tantalizing contact, to deepen it, was so urgent that she ached with the need to surrender to the demands of her body, but with some feeble residue of sanity she fought the compulsion.
Digging her fingertips into the bed of pine needles on
Although he had expressed concern for her well-being, his grip on her hadn't relaxed. He held her spread-eagled and his hands were like manacles about her wrists. In her discomfort, she stirred uneasily, feeling bruised and ill-treated. As she did so, she became intensely aware of the muscular length of his thighs resting intimately between hers, of the hardness of his chest crushing her breasts.
Suddenly there was an unbearable tension between them and in desperation Julie erupted into motion, renewing her struggles to escape him.
This time it was Garth who had not anticipated her attack and she almost succeeded in freeing herself. She derived some satisfaction from the fact that his breathing was nearly as heavy as hers when he finally managed to subdue her. His fingers tightened around her wrist, dwarfing it as they overlapped to measure its circumference.
"Damn, but you're strong!" he complimented her with grudging admiration. "For all that your wrists are about as big as matchsticks! Where do you hide all your muscles?"
His eyes wandered freely over her shoulders and arms and again she thrashed about, but this time her efforts were short-lived. He was prepared for such tactics and he controlled her easily.
"Get off me, you great heavy ox," she gasped. "I can't breathe."
"You've certainly changed your tune," he observed, showing a callous lack of sympathy for her plight. "You never used to tell me that—at least, not this early in the game." His actions contradicted his words, however, and he complied with her request, shifting slightly away from her and supporting the weight of his torso with his elbows.
No sooner had this been accomplished, than Julie had cause to regret her complaint. As a result of Garth's change of position, her shirt gapped open to the waist, revealing the full curve of her breasts.
Under the fire of his dilated gaze, she felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. The lacy bra she was wearing provided little protection from his bold inspection of her. Not only that, her body had turned traitor and her excitement was transparently clear. All he'd had to do was
look
at her and the rosy nipples had grown saucily erect.
"You've torn your shirt," Garth murmured thickly, "and you've hurt yourself."
Even as he pointed this out, she became aware of the sting of the scratch. In her mind's eye she could see, as he must, the droplets of blood that had been drawn by the thorn when it inflicted the wound, saw the way their redness emphasized the ivory pallor of her skin.
Her pulse clamored unevenly in the hollow of her throat and she felt strangely boneless. An alien heat and langour had invaded her limbs and she was caught up in the inevitability of whatever was about to happen.
Unable to stop him, not wanting to stop him, she watched as Garth lowered his head and touched his mouth to the scratch that marred the creamy flesh. With infinite slowness, he traced its jagged course with his lips while his fingers deftly released the fastening of her bra to bare her breasts completely.
She instinctively arched her back and her eyes closed weakly when, at last, the sweet warmth of his mouth abandoned the silkiness of skin to take possession of the tightly budded velvet of the nipple. Softly, so softly, he cherished it, coaxing it into full bloom with his tongue, savoring it with exquisite thoroughness.
Julie yearned to wrap her arms around him and draw him even closer to her, to hold him tightly and never let him go. The desire to prolong the tantalizing contact, to deepen it, was so urgent that she ached with the need to surrender to the demands of her body, but with some feeble residue of sanity she fought the compulsion.
Digging her fingertips into the bed of pine needles on
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