Read Online Secret Star by Nora Roberts - Free Book Online

jolt, lightning wrapped in black velvet, stabbed through him in one powerful strike. His head spun with it, his blood churned, his belly ached. No part of his system was spared the rapid onslaught of that lush and knowing mouth.
    Her taste, unexpected yet familiar, plunged into him like hot spiced wine that rushed immediately to his head, leaving him dazed and drunk and desperate.
    His muscles bunched, as if poised to leap. And in leaping, he would possess what was somehow already his. It took a vicious twist of will to keep his arms locked at his side, when they strained toreach out, take, relish. Her scent was as dark, as drugging, as her flavor. Even the low, persuasive hum that sounded in her throat as she moved that glorious fantasy of a body against his was a tantalizing hint of what could be.
    For a slow count of five, he fisted his hands, then relaxed them and let the internal war rage while his lips remained passive, his body rigid in denial.
    He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of response….
    She knew it was a mistake. Even as she moved toward him, reached for him, she’d known it. She’d made mistakes before, and she tried never to regret what was done and couldn’t be undone.
    But she regretted this.
    She deeply regretted that his taste was utterly unique and perfect for her palate. That the texture of his hair, the shape of his shoulders, the strong wall of his chest, all taunted her, when she’d only meant to taunt him, to show him what she could offer. If she chose.
    Instead, swept into need, rushed into it by that mating of lips, she offered more than she’d intended. And he gave nothing back.
    She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, one quick, sharp nip, then masked an outrageous rush of disappointment by stepping casually back and aiming an amused smile at him.
    â€œMy, my, you’re a cool one, aren’t you, Lieutenant?”
    His blood burned with every heartbeat, but he merely inclined his head. “You’re not used to being resistible, are you, Grace?”
    â€œNo.” She rubbed a fingertip lightly over her lip in a movement that was both absent and provocative. The essence of him clung stubbornly there, insisting it belonged. “But then, most of the men I’ve kissed haven’t had ice water in their veins. It’s a shame.” She took her finger from her own lip, tapped it on his. “Such a nice mouth. Such potential. Still, maybe you just don’t care for…women.”
    The grin he flashed stunned her. His eyes glowed with it, in fascinating tones of gold. His mouth softened with a charm that had a wicked and unpredictable appeal. Suddenly he was approachable, nearly boyish, and it made her heart yearn.
    â€œMaybe,” he said, “you’re just not my type.”
    She gave one short, humorless laugh. “Darling, I’m every man’s type. Well, we’ll just chalk it up to a failed experiment and move on.” Telling herself it was foolish to be hurt, she stepped to him again, reached up to straighten the tie she’d loosened.
    He didn’t want her to touch him, not then, notwhen he was so precariously perched on the edge. “You’ve got a hell of an ego there.”
    â€œI suppose I do.” With her hands still on his tie, she looked up, into his eyes. The hell with it, she thought, if they couldn’t be lovers, maybe they could be cautious friends. The man who had looked at her and grinned would be a good, solid friend.
    So she smiled at him with a sweetness that was without art or guile, lancing his heart with one clean blow. “But then, men are generally predictable. You’re just the exception to the rule, Seth, the one that proves it.”
    She brushed her hands down, smoothing his jacket and said something more, but he didn’t hear it over the roaring in his ears. His control broke; he felt the snap, like the twang of a sword violently broken over an armored knee.