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Authors: Barbara Boswell
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into a sharp-tongued, argumentative termagant. Connor was not pleased with the transformation.
“Are you going to let me go?” She had an older brother and two older stepbrothers; she knew something about threats and intimidation, both making them and not bowing to either.
“No,” Connor replied succinctly.
She knew exactly what to say next. “Then I’ll have to make you let go of me.”
“And how will you do that?” Connor taunted, deliberately tightening his hold on her. A tactical mistake on his part, he silently conceded, for the feel of her softness against him was making his already-fevered blood run even hotter.
“Are you a graduate of one of those feminist self-defense courses?” he murmured mockingly. “What’s your move, Gypsy? Going to deliver a neck-cracking karate chop that’ll leave me rolling on the ground, begging for mercy?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t take one of those courses,” Courtney snapped. He obviously wasn’t going to let her go and now she had to back up her tough words with action. But how? “If I had, I wouldn’t show you any mercy,” she continued with vicarious ruthlessness. “I’d make sure you were—”
“So, no karate chop,” he cut in. “Perhaps you’ll go with a less-sophisticated maneuver like that old classic, the swift knee to the groin?” Before she could attempt to do it, he closed his thighs around hers, immobilizing her—and sending shock waves of erotic sensation through them both.
For a moment they stood still, helpless against the tide of desire and need pulsing through them. Their eyes met and held and neither spoke a word.
He cupped her bottom with his palms and locked her tighter into his body. “You don’t really want to put me out of commission, do you, Gyps?” he whispered against her ear. His tongue traced its delicate shape.
Courtney whimpered. That dangerous, languorous weakness had returned, seeping thickly into her limbs. There was a sharp sweet ache in the pit of her stomach. Being so very close to him, she could feel his body trembling, hear him drawing deep, uneven breaths. Though she didn’t know how or why, she sensed a vulnerability in him that matched her own.
He was not just playing games, every feminine instinct she possessed informed her of that. He wanted her very, very badly. The knowledge was electrifying, so was the feel of her breasts nestled against his chest and the rhythmic throbbing of his unyielding virility. Courtney’s head spun. What if she were to let go and kiss him, just once—
Her lips parted and his mouth lowered to hers.
“Look out!” The sharp warning voice seemed to come from another dimension.
Startled beyond measure, Courtney and Connor reflex-ively sprang apart. A low-flying bird, chirping madly, flew over their heads. Then another bird flew by, leaving a thick dropping that landed perilously close to where the two of them had been standing entwined.
“Damn birds.” Kieran Kaufman joined them, glaring up at the twittering, fluttering avian pair that had perched on an overhead branch. “I never would’ve let them out if I thought they were going to go ballistic.”
Courtney was shaking; she couldn’t seem to stop. Desire bubbled through her, hot and swift and unquenched. She glanced quickly at Connor. He was staring purposefully into the branches of the trees.
“You let the birds out of the cages?” Connor asked Kaufman. Frustrating as the interruption had been, he was strangely grateful for it. He felt confused and off balance, a totally new experience for him and, he decided, a terrible one.
Never had he been so stirred, so aroused, by simply holding a woman, by the mere prospect of a kiss. When Courtney had gazed up at him, acquiescence in her dark velvet eyes, her Ups parted and moist, he’d felt as if the top of his head had been blown off. Imagine what would have happened to him if he had actually kissed her.
It was definitely time to back up and regroup his defenses.
“Are you going to let me go?” She had an older brother and two older stepbrothers; she knew something about threats and intimidation, both making them and not bowing to either.
“No,” Connor replied succinctly.
She knew exactly what to say next. “Then I’ll have to make you let go of me.”
“And how will you do that?” Connor taunted, deliberately tightening his hold on her. A tactical mistake on his part, he silently conceded, for the feel of her softness against him was making his already-fevered blood run even hotter.
“Are you a graduate of one of those feminist self-defense courses?” he murmured mockingly. “What’s your move, Gypsy? Going to deliver a neck-cracking karate chop that’ll leave me rolling on the ground, begging for mercy?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t take one of those courses,” Courtney snapped. He obviously wasn’t going to let her go and now she had to back up her tough words with action. But how? “If I had, I wouldn’t show you any mercy,” she continued with vicarious ruthlessness. “I’d make sure you were—”
“So, no karate chop,” he cut in. “Perhaps you’ll go with a less-sophisticated maneuver like that old classic, the swift knee to the groin?” Before she could attempt to do it, he closed his thighs around hers, immobilizing her—and sending shock waves of erotic sensation through them both.
For a moment they stood still, helpless against the tide of desire and need pulsing through them. Their eyes met and held and neither spoke a word.
He cupped her bottom with his palms and locked her tighter into his body. “You don’t really want to put me out of commission, do you, Gyps?” he whispered against her ear. His tongue traced its delicate shape.
Courtney whimpered. That dangerous, languorous weakness had returned, seeping thickly into her limbs. There was a sharp sweet ache in the pit of her stomach. Being so very close to him, she could feel his body trembling, hear him drawing deep, uneven breaths. Though she didn’t know how or why, she sensed a vulnerability in him that matched her own.
He was not just playing games, every feminine instinct she possessed informed her of that. He wanted her very, very badly. The knowledge was electrifying, so was the feel of her breasts nestled against his chest and the rhythmic throbbing of his unyielding virility. Courtney’s head spun. What if she were to let go and kiss him, just once—
Her lips parted and his mouth lowered to hers.
“Look out!” The sharp warning voice seemed to come from another dimension.
Startled beyond measure, Courtney and Connor reflex-ively sprang apart. A low-flying bird, chirping madly, flew over their heads. Then another bird flew by, leaving a thick dropping that landed perilously close to where the two of them had been standing entwined.
“Damn birds.” Kieran Kaufman joined them, glaring up at the twittering, fluttering avian pair that had perched on an overhead branch. “I never would’ve let them out if I thought they were going to go ballistic.”
Courtney was shaking; she couldn’t seem to stop. Desire bubbled through her, hot and swift and unquenched. She glanced quickly at Connor. He was staring purposefully into the branches of the trees.
“You let the birds out of the cages?” Connor asked Kaufman. Frustrating as the interruption had been, he was strangely grateful for it. He felt confused and off balance, a totally new experience for him and, he decided, a terrible one.
Never had he been so stirred, so aroused, by simply holding a woman, by the mere prospect of a kiss. When Courtney had gazed up at him, acquiescence in her dark velvet eyes, her Ups parted and moist, he’d felt as if the top of his head had been blown off. Imagine what would have happened to him if he had actually kissed her.
It was definitely time to back up and regroup his defenses.
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