Susan Stephens - Seduced by the Rebel

‘I should go,’ she said breathlessly, one step ahead of him as she stared at the door.

‘No,’ he argued softly, ‘you should come.’

She drew in a sharp breath as she turned to look at him. ‘Is everything a joke to you, Heath?’

‘Is this a joke?’ Wielding the warm, moist cloth with the utmost care, he swung an arm around her shoulder to draw her close and wiped the paint smears off her face. ‘I’ve made a decision,’ he murmured, noting the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her breathing speeded up.

‘Have you?’ There was only the smallest ring of vivid green around her pupils as she stared at him. ‘This will all be worth it if I have persuaded you to keep Hebers Ghyll, Heath.’

He smiled into her eyes. ‘Sorry to disappoint. The most I’m prepared to commit to at this moment in time is that I will keep the place alive and continue with the renovations. Don’t look so surprised,’ he teased. ‘A demolition site is worth far less to me than a stately home.’

‘I’ll get the paint again,’ she threatened him.

‘Then I’d just have to wash you all over again.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘Are you sure of that?’

‘What do I have to do to stop you?’

He didn’t miss the note of pent-up excitement in her voice.

‘Everything I tell you,’ he murmured. ‘What’s the catch?’ she said suspiciously. ‘There is no catch.’

‘Then tell me what I have to do—’ She followed his gaze to the door. ‘Heath, we can’t—’

‘Why not?’ Angling his chin, he stared down at her.

‘Because it’s outrageous,’ she whispered, her voice trembling with excitement.

‘You don’t do outrageous?’ Dipping his head, he kissed her neck.

HEATH’S hand cupped Bronte’s chin. He made her look at him. She could see in his gaze what came next and how incredible it was going to be. His hand felt warm and gentle on her face. For such a big man, Heath could be incredibly sensitive—and intuitive. It was this mix of soothing balm and fiery passion she craved now. She was hungry for tenderness. Only-child syndrome, maybe, Bronte thought. With both her parents working there hadn’t been much time to spare for cuddling. And though there had been other children visiting Hebers Ghyll she’d always felt on the outside looking in—except with Heath. They had both been different, she supposed—the dreamer and the wild boy from the city.

‘Hey, come back to me,’ Heath insisted.

She looked at him. They could both have used a hug back then. She had always been hungry for Heath. He had lit a fire no amount of common sense could hope to put out, and that fire had been smouldering for thirteen years. Could anything stand in its way now?

‘This isn’t so outrageous, is it?’ Heath demanded, tightening his grip on her when she exhaled shakily.

‘You’re a very bad man indeed.’

Heath smiled, and then his lips brushed her cheek. He was making her tremble. He was making the ache inside her turn into a primitive hunger that lacked every vestige of romance.

And then he brought her in front of him and Heath’s steady gaze didn’t leave her eyes as his hands moved slowly down her arms. He could read every thought and she felt violently exposed, yet glad that Heath could see her hunger for him. She exclaimed softly when his thumb pad caught the tip of her nipple—but it moved on. This was all intended. Heath had caught her in his erotic net. And she wasn’t interested in escaping. She was only interested in what came next.

Heath’s hand was moving lightly down her spine towards her buttocks. Her breathing sounded ragged as that experienced hand continued on, and when it reached the hollow in the small of her back it fitted so neatly, she relaxed, but when he moved on to map the swell of her bottom that was too much. With a shaking cry, she arched her back, offering herself for pleasure. Heath’s hands maintained a detailed exploration—sensitively seeking, and yet never quite giving her the contact she craved. ‘Oh, please—’ She was shivering with anticipation, shameless in her need. ‘Please don’t tease me like this, Heath.’

Heath said nothing as he continued to stroke and prepare. Her breathing sounded noisy in the silence, and she knew he must feel her heat through the flimsy protection of her clothes. She was moist and swollen—ready for him, and the only thought in her head was, Don’t stop.

‘And if I stop now?’ Heath said, pausing.

‘Have you read my mind?’ She heard the smile in his voice, and could picture the curve of Heath’s lips, even with her face buried in the soft wool of his sweater. ‘You can’t stop now,’ she said, gazing up at him, ‘Because I can’t stop now.’

‘So, what’s the answer?’ he said, frowning.

‘You have to kiss me.’

‘Is that a command?’ Heath’s lips curved with amusement.

‘Yes, please,’ she said.

Maybe her memory of all those years back was faulty. Maybe one kiss would be the answer to resisting Heath—to resisting what her body begged her to do.

His mouth was so close her lips tingled. She sighed, climbing to the next level of arousal as Heath brushed his lips against hers. Reaching up, she laced her fingers through his hair, opening her body to a man more than capable of taking advantage of her. Her legs were trembling against his. She’d waited so long. Heath didn’t disappoint. His kiss was firm and sure, and the touch of his hands on her body was indescribable. Heat ran through her like a torrent of molten lava, and when he teased her lips apart with his tongue she was glad of his arms supporting her. Hunger ruled her. She was captive to feelings so strong it was impossible to keep them in check. Breath shot from her lungs as Heath’s grip tightened. She wanted him. She wanted to share his warmth and confidence. She wanted his body. She wanted Heath to take hold of her and position her as he pleasured her, and for him to go on pleasuring her until the world and all its uncertainties faded away.

There could be no more delays. She had no inhibitions left—no restraint. There was just an urgent need to feel Heath hot and hard inside her. She wanted him as a wild animal wanted its mate. There was nothing tender about this—no thought, no reason, just a glorious battle with one sure ending. Naked flesh on naked flesh, drugging and intoxicating—no kisses, no tender promises, only now.

She rejoiced in the rasp of Heath’s chest hair against her pitifully sensitive nipples, and welcomed him, hard, hot and savage against her. She cried out with excitement when he brought her jeans down in one swift move and lifted her. ‘Now,’ she instructed him, crazy with need.

‘Not so fast,’ Heath murmured. His experienced hands had found her, checked that she was ready, and then he quickly protected them both.

She locked her legs around his waist. ‘Oh, no … no … no,’ she cried, shaking her head wildly from side to side as he started teasing her with just the tip.

‘Oh, yes … yes,’ Heath responded, taking her deep.

Her eyes widened. She gasped with astonishment at the size of him. She gripped his shoulder for support. Planting her hands flat against his chest, she braced herself—and when the pleasure became too great, she laced her fingers through his hair, threw her head back and rode the sensation. This was so much more than she had expected. She was lost in pleasure, lost to reason. Heath was every bit as intuitive as she’d known he would be, and infinitely sensitive to her needs. He must never stop, she thought wildly as he dealt her the deep rhythmical strokes. She wouldn’t let him stop. She was floating on an erotic plane where she had nothing to do but accept pleasure while Heath, with one hand braced against the door, pounded into her.