Read Online The SEAL's Rebel Librarian by Anne Calhoun - Free Book Online

dipped forward, his hand tightened in her hair, making her scalp sting. The final time she did it, she didn’t stop, kissed him through the pain until he groaned and cupped her head to hold her close and take her mouth, hot and deep, until she twisted away to lick and bite her way along his rough jaw.
    â€œOkay?” he growled, massaging her sore scalp.
    â€œBetter than okay,” she said, and took his earlobe between her teeth. “Yes. Definitely yes.”
    Trapped between his hard body and the heavy coat, she was sweating, skin growing damp, the scent of desire rising unmistakably to blend with the lanolin left on his neck, where she’d buried her nose and was nuzzling into the strong slope of his shoulder. He pushed the coat from her shoulder to bare her bra strap, then used his chin and mouth to slip that down, too. Hot, stinging kisses dropped from the curve of her shoulder, along her collarbone to the hollow between them. She tipped her head back and bared her throat to him, gasp-laughing when he tightened his grip in her hair again and held her there, exposed and vulnerable. He nipped his way up the tendons in her neck, stopping at the soft spot under the hinge of her jaw, worrying at it with teeth and tongue.
    â€œNo marks,” she gasped.
    â€œWhere anyone could see them,” he countered.
    â€œYes,” she said. He knew what she wanted, marks on her body as temporary as this interlude in her life, bruises and red marks that would fade when he left, leaving only memories.
    He bore her back to the bed, their legs still woven together. She arched and writhed, luxuriating in the drastically different and equally compelling sensations of hot, strong, hard man at her front and soft, warm, engulfing leather and sheepskin around her back and arms. He braced his weight on one arm and popped open the front clasp on her bra with the other, then laced his fingers through hers and pinned her hands above her head.
    She froze, tremors running from her scalp to her toes. Intellectually she knew sex was about the differences in size and strength between male and female, but this was the first time she really felt it. All it took to immobilize her was the weight of his torso against her hips, and his hands, his callused, rough, scarred hands. She closed her eyes and absorbed the disquieting combination of tenderness and possession, their fingers clasped, her calf draped over his thigh.
    He shifted down slightly and scraped his jaw and cheek over her breasts until the lace cups popped free, baring her to his mouth, then soothed the scrapes with the flat of his tongue, licking the soft flesh until her nipples peaked and she was writhing under him, desperate to get his mouth on her nipples.
    â€œPlease,” she whispered. “Oh, please.”
    He brushed his bristly chin over her nipple, the contact slight enough to tease until he did it again, then again, then licked the sensitized skin, blew on the wet flesh, then closed his teeth over the tip. She arched and cried out, lifting her hips into his thigh, struggling to get her hands free.
    His fingers tightened ever so slightly, mostly in warning because there was no way she was getting free unless he let go. He stopped at her breastbone to suck a hot spot into her skin, then blew on it, and moved to her other nipple. By the time he was finished, her body alternated between fierce tension and a lax submission. Her nipples were hot, tender, throbbing with her pulse in the warm, dappled lamplight.
    Jack released her hands and sat back on his heels. Sweat dampened the front of his shirt, making it stick as he tried to tug it over his head. With a curse he yanked it free and tossed it to the floor. Dazed, she watched as he unbuckled his belt and opened his fly, giving a little grunt of relief as his cock surged into the newly opened space. Then he reached for her panties and tugged them off, then slid down on his belly, worked his arms under her thighs,