Read Online The Doctor's Lost-and-Found Bride by Kate Hardy - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Hardy
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too. He kissed the top of her head, feeling as if he were drowning in the scent of rosemary from her hair. He really had to stop this, before it was too late.
But then her arms were round his neck, her fingers weresliding into his hair, and she was pressing tiny kisses into the column of his throat.
It was like lighting touch-paper; the next thing he knew, his mouth was jammed against hers, his arms were wrapped tightly round her and her fingertips were pushing hard against his scalp, urging him on.
Unable to help himself, desperately needing the feel of her bare skin against his fingertips, he untucked her white shirt from the waistband of her tailored, black trousers. He slipped his hands underneath the cotton and splayed his fingers flat against her bare midriff. Her skin felt so soft—and he’d missed this so much.
Then she was doing the same to him, tugging his white shirt out of the waistband of his suit trousers and smoothing her palms along his back.
This was all so familiar, and yet so new at the same time. It was more than four years since Marina had last touched him like this, and they were different people now, yet they were still the same. They still responded to each other in the same way. It almost felt as though they’d never been apart.
Lost in the moment, Max moved his hands higher, his palms stroking against her ribcage. She inhaled sharply and he traced the lacy edge of her bra with one forefinger. One thing that definitely hadn’t changed: Marina still wore ultra-feminine underwear. And right now he really, really wanted to see it. Wanted to see her. Wanted to touch and taste, and let her fill the emptiness inside him.
He undid the buttons of her shirt, his hands shaking; to his relief, she didn’t stop him. He pushed the soft cotton off her shoulders, revealing pure-white lace against her slightly olive skin, and desire licked down his spine. Hecould see her nipples through the lace, hardening as he looked at them, and he just couldn’t help himself. He dipped his head, closed his mouth over one nipple through the lace, and sucked hard.
Marina moaned aloud and slid her fingers back into his hair, urging him on rather than pulling him away, and he was completely lost. He undid the clasp of her bra and let the lace fall to the floor; he cupped her breasts in his hands, remembering their weight and their warmth.
This felt like coming home.
Where he longed to be.
Where he needed to be
He wanted Marina so urgently, so desperately. But, more than that, he needed her to want this as much as he did.
He kissed his way up the column of her throat, then took her mouth again, nibbling tiny kisses along her lower lip until she opened her mouth and let him deepen the kiss. Then she was kissing him all the way back, unbuttoning his shirt and tugging it off his shoulders with the same urgency.
Working purely on instinct, Max lifted her up and carried her through to his bedroom, still kissing her. He set her back on her feet again by the window, drew the curtains and switched on the bedside lamp. Still neither of them had said a word; they were lost in a deep, deep hunger and need.
He kissed her again, and then her fingers were fumbling with the buckle of his belt. Struggling. He gently pushed her hands aside, still kissing her, and dealt with it himself.
He wasn’t sure which of them removed which items of clothing, but at last they were how he wanted them to be, skin to skin. And she felt so good: soft and warm, just as he remembered. Just as he dreamed. He drew her closer, and simply fell back on the bed, pulling her with him soshe landed on top of him, her glorious hair falling all over his face and her bare skin right next to his.
Heaven.
Marina knew this was all wrong, that she shouldn’t be doing this. That Max was off limits. For goodness’ sake, he was her ex-husband and her colleague, and when this all blew apart it would be impossible to work together. Not to mention all the mess
But then her arms were round his neck, her fingers weresliding into his hair, and she was pressing tiny kisses into the column of his throat.
It was like lighting touch-paper; the next thing he knew, his mouth was jammed against hers, his arms were wrapped tightly round her and her fingertips were pushing hard against his scalp, urging him on.
Unable to help himself, desperately needing the feel of her bare skin against his fingertips, he untucked her white shirt from the waistband of her tailored, black trousers. He slipped his hands underneath the cotton and splayed his fingers flat against her bare midriff. Her skin felt so soft—and he’d missed this so much.
Then she was doing the same to him, tugging his white shirt out of the waistband of his suit trousers and smoothing her palms along his back.
This was all so familiar, and yet so new at the same time. It was more than four years since Marina had last touched him like this, and they were different people now, yet they were still the same. They still responded to each other in the same way. It almost felt as though they’d never been apart.
Lost in the moment, Max moved his hands higher, his palms stroking against her ribcage. She inhaled sharply and he traced the lacy edge of her bra with one forefinger. One thing that definitely hadn’t changed: Marina still wore ultra-feminine underwear. And right now he really, really wanted to see it. Wanted to see her. Wanted to touch and taste, and let her fill the emptiness inside him.
He undid the buttons of her shirt, his hands shaking; to his relief, she didn’t stop him. He pushed the soft cotton off her shoulders, revealing pure-white lace against her slightly olive skin, and desire licked down his spine. Hecould see her nipples through the lace, hardening as he looked at them, and he just couldn’t help himself. He dipped his head, closed his mouth over one nipple through the lace, and sucked hard.
Marina moaned aloud and slid her fingers back into his hair, urging him on rather than pulling him away, and he was completely lost. He undid the clasp of her bra and let the lace fall to the floor; he cupped her breasts in his hands, remembering their weight and their warmth.
This felt like coming home.
Where he longed to be.
Where he needed to be
He wanted Marina so urgently, so desperately. But, more than that, he needed her to want this as much as he did.
He kissed his way up the column of her throat, then took her mouth again, nibbling tiny kisses along her lower lip until she opened her mouth and let him deepen the kiss. Then she was kissing him all the way back, unbuttoning his shirt and tugging it off his shoulders with the same urgency.
Working purely on instinct, Max lifted her up and carried her through to his bedroom, still kissing her. He set her back on her feet again by the window, drew the curtains and switched on the bedside lamp. Still neither of them had said a word; they were lost in a deep, deep hunger and need.
He kissed her again, and then her fingers were fumbling with the buckle of his belt. Struggling. He gently pushed her hands aside, still kissing her, and dealt with it himself.
He wasn’t sure which of them removed which items of clothing, but at last they were how he wanted them to be, skin to skin. And she felt so good: soft and warm, just as he remembered. Just as he dreamed. He drew her closer, and simply fell back on the bed, pulling her with him soshe landed on top of him, her glorious hair falling all over his face and her bare skin right next to his.
Heaven.
Marina knew this was all wrong, that she shouldn’t be doing this. That Max was off limits. For goodness’ sake, he was her ex-husband and her colleague, and when this all blew apart it would be impossible to work together. Not to mention all the mess
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