Read Online The MacGregor Grooms by Nora Roberts - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nora Roberts
Ads: Link
craving for more. Every moan or ragged gasp brought him a fresh thrill. Then her nails bit into his back; her body arched back like a drawn bow. He was helpless to stop himself from tumbling over the edge with her.
* * *
He could have slept for a week. The thought slipped into his mind as he lay back, cushioning her. With his eyes closed, his body blissfully relaxed, he stroked a lazy hand over her hair.
Who would have thought, he mused, that there had been a wildcat pacing around inside the coolly composed Ms. Drake? He was delighted to have broken the lock on the cage door.
She was appalled. Or she badly wanted to be. She was naked, lying on the floor where her clothes were scattered. She had just had crazed and mindless sex with a man she wasn’t entirely sure she liked.
Mindless was precisely what it had been, she admitted. Her mind simply shut off whenever he touched her. She’d never in her life behaved that way. Torn at a man’s clothes, used nails and teeth on his flesh, let him touch and take and take again until she was biting back screams.
And she felt … fabulous.
Just a physical reaction, she told herself. She kept her eyes closed, struggling to find her common sense somewhere inside the glow that seemed to surround her. She’d been celibate for … well, a very long time, she thought. Her body had simply betrayed her convictions. She was human, after all, and susceptible to certain basic needs.
And this … experience had certainly been as basic as basic could get.
Now it was time to put things back in some kind of order.
She cleared her throat and sat up. “Well.” It was the best her muddled brain could think of as she reached for her sweater. Where in God’s name, she wondered, was her bra?
D.C. slitted his eyes open to study her. Her hair was tumbled, her skin rosily flushed. “What’re youdoing?”
“Getting dressed.”
“Why?”
The hell with the bra, she thought. She would not go crawling around the floor hunting for it. “I’ve never … I haven’t ever … This was just sex.”
“This was really great sex.”
She drew a breath, braced herself and looked at him. She’d known he’d be grinning at her. And there he was, a huge, fabulously built male with a disordered mop of rich hair, impossibly blue eyes and a smug grin.
Her treacherous system yearned. The fascinating idea of crawling onto him and nibbling away flashed brilliantly in her mind. “I don’t do things like this.” She snapped it out and yanked the sweater over her head.
Cocking a brow, he sat up. “Ever, or as a rule?”
“Ever. This was just … spontaneous combustion, so to speak. As you said, we’re single, unattached adults, so no harm done. But …” She started to turn to find her slacks, and his hands slipped slyly under the sweater. “I’m leaving.” But her voice had gone weak.
“Okay.” He scraped his teeth gently along her jawline, felt her tremble.
“We don’t understand each other. We can’t … This was a mistake.”
“And you don’t like to make mistakes, so we should try it again.” He drew the sweater over her head, gathered her closer. “Until we get it right.”
* * *
And just how, she asked herself, had she ended up in his bed? If you could call a mattress on the floor of a room stuffed with boxes a bed.
Stupefied, Layna stared up at the ceiling. She’d let it happen. She was responsible for her own actions—even for allowing herself to be seduced. She’d certainly been a willing participant and had no one to blame for the current situation but herself.
And what the hell
was
her current situation? She had no real experience with this kind of irresponsible, impromptu and reckless behavior. She was a sensible woman with a well-conceived, sensible life plan mapped out.
This kind of detour could only lead to sheer curves and sudden drops.
“I have to go.”
Beside her, D.C. groaned. “Baby, you’re killing me.” Every time she claimed
* * *
He could have slept for a week. The thought slipped into his mind as he lay back, cushioning her. With his eyes closed, his body blissfully relaxed, he stroked a lazy hand over her hair.
Who would have thought, he mused, that there had been a wildcat pacing around inside the coolly composed Ms. Drake? He was delighted to have broken the lock on the cage door.
She was appalled. Or she badly wanted to be. She was naked, lying on the floor where her clothes were scattered. She had just had crazed and mindless sex with a man she wasn’t entirely sure she liked.
Mindless was precisely what it had been, she admitted. Her mind simply shut off whenever he touched her. She’d never in her life behaved that way. Torn at a man’s clothes, used nails and teeth on his flesh, let him touch and take and take again until she was biting back screams.
And she felt … fabulous.
Just a physical reaction, she told herself. She kept her eyes closed, struggling to find her common sense somewhere inside the glow that seemed to surround her. She’d been celibate for … well, a very long time, she thought. Her body had simply betrayed her convictions. She was human, after all, and susceptible to certain basic needs.
And this … experience had certainly been as basic as basic could get.
Now it was time to put things back in some kind of order.
She cleared her throat and sat up. “Well.” It was the best her muddled brain could think of as she reached for her sweater. Where in God’s name, she wondered, was her bra?
D.C. slitted his eyes open to study her. Her hair was tumbled, her skin rosily flushed. “What’re youdoing?”
“Getting dressed.”
“Why?”
The hell with the bra, she thought. She would not go crawling around the floor hunting for it. “I’ve never … I haven’t ever … This was just sex.”
“This was really great sex.”
She drew a breath, braced herself and looked at him. She’d known he’d be grinning at her. And there he was, a huge, fabulously built male with a disordered mop of rich hair, impossibly blue eyes and a smug grin.
Her treacherous system yearned. The fascinating idea of crawling onto him and nibbling away flashed brilliantly in her mind. “I don’t do things like this.” She snapped it out and yanked the sweater over her head.
Cocking a brow, he sat up. “Ever, or as a rule?”
“Ever. This was just … spontaneous combustion, so to speak. As you said, we’re single, unattached adults, so no harm done. But …” She started to turn to find her slacks, and his hands slipped slyly under the sweater. “I’m leaving.” But her voice had gone weak.
“Okay.” He scraped his teeth gently along her jawline, felt her tremble.
“We don’t understand each other. We can’t … This was a mistake.”
“And you don’t like to make mistakes, so we should try it again.” He drew the sweater over her head, gathered her closer. “Until we get it right.”
* * *
And just how, she asked herself, had she ended up in his bed? If you could call a mattress on the floor of a room stuffed with boxes a bed.
Stupefied, Layna stared up at the ceiling. She’d let it happen. She was responsible for her own actions—even for allowing herself to be seduced. She’d certainly been a willing participant and had no one to blame for the current situation but herself.
And what the hell
was
her current situation? She had no real experience with this kind of irresponsible, impromptu and reckless behavior. She was a sensible woman with a well-conceived, sensible life plan mapped out.
This kind of detour could only lead to sheer curves and sudden drops.
“I have to go.”
Beside her, D.C. groaned. “Baby, you’re killing me.” Every time she claimed
Similar Books
