AllFreeNovel
Share Us
gh she knew him, as though suspicion were indeed fact rather than wishful thinking. Maybe she just needed an excuse. Maybe her brain just needed a reason to take what her body was demanding.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered, her hands pressing against his chest as his head lowered, his lips coming much too close to hers.
“Don’t kiss you?” His lips quirked with sexy humor and dangerous intent and an oddly familiar playfulness. “Afraid you might change your mind, Bailey?”
“You like messing with my head,” she accused him. “If you think you can use my body against me, John, then you’d better think again. It’s not going to happen.”
“Bet me.”
The hard growl that left his lips was the only warning she had before his lips were covering hers and reality began to recede. Wicked, driving hunger rose to the forefront of her senses, a starving need for touch that she couldn’t fight against, that her body had no desire to reject.
Need and knowledge warred inside her mind now. The need for this kiss that she couldn’t seem to get enough of, and the knowledge that he was going to do exactly what she had sworn she wasn’t going to allow him to do. He was going to use her body against her. He was going to make her hungrier, he was going to fill her senses with him and sap the strength to fight from her.
She’d known in that warehouse a year ago that he was dangerous for her. She had known that her best course of action for her sanity and her heart was to stay as far away from him as possible.
She’d run as far as she could run and here he was, exactly where he shouldn’t be.
Her arms twined around his neck as his hand gripped her hips, then slowly slid to her thighs while he pressed a knee between them. The hard muscle of his upper leg rode against the mound of her pussy, stroking the swollen bud of her clit as she fought for breath. Her hands speared into the overly long strands of dark blond hair, and she held on for dear life as her hips writhed against his leg.
The friction against that most sensitive part of her body was overwhelming. Lust clamored inside her brain; the need for release drove sharpened spikes of sensation racing over her nerve endings straight to her sex.
Her tongue rubbed against his, fought for dominance in the kiss, and finally conceded as he wrapped his fingers around the mound of a breast.
Bailey froze, her breath stilling in her throat as his thumb stroked over her nipple. She could feel the rioting pleasure rising inside her. She wanted to tear the material of her dress out of the way, she wanted bare flesh to meet bare flesh and she wanted to ride the wave of arousal surging through her.
In the arms of a stranger.
God, she had lost her mind. She had lost what little control she still had of herself, and finding it again seemed a lost cause.
He may be some super-secret agent. It could all be a game. He could be just what his background assured her he was: a killer, a terrorist, a monster. And here she was surrendering to him without a shred of certainty either way.
She was so desperate for the past that she was creating her own fantasy and she knew just how dangerous that was.
“No.”
She tore herself from his arms, stumbling away from him as she covered her lips with the back of her hand and stared back at him in horror.
He even kissed like Trent. Just like Trent. With the same voracious hunger, the same lustful intent.
“Get out!” she panted desperately. “Get out of my home before I have you thrown out.”
He looked as shell-shocked as she felt. Staring back at her, his gray eyes thunderous, his lips swollen from her kiss, he looked as though the pleasure had punched him just as hard as it had her.
“This isn’t over,” he warned her. “We will talk, Bailey.”
“When hell freezes over,” she snapped, furious with herself as well as him.
His lips thinned. “Invest in plenty of heat then,” he warned her. “Because it’s coming. And it’s coming fast, baby.”
He jerked the door open and stalked out. Every line of his body was tense and hard, furious lust practically sizzling off his body as he stalked down the hall and back to the front of the house.
Bailey followed behind him, her heels snapping against the marble floor as she silently cursed him, as well as herself.
She’d be damned if she was going to allow him to manipulate her or to destroy what she was working on here. She knew his kind and she knew him. He would take over, he would insist on dominance, and she had no intentions of allowing anyone to dominate her at this point.
He was too much like Trent. She had loved Trent, ached for him after his death, but she had always known that eventually they would clash. She could have handled it with Trent, but not with this man. She had loved Trent, she didnt love John Vincent.
Stepping into the foyer, she watched as he stalked past the doors the doormen pulled open for him. One hand pressed to her stomach, the other hanging at her side, she fought to find her equilibrium once again.
