His hand moved to the porcelain skin of her throat, where a pulse beat so full and fast it betrayed her. Her delicate neck was flushed with agitation and excitement. His hands were frantic to move lower, to take full possession of her breasts, to find the rosebud nipples swollen in arousal. He forced them to stay where they were, when they wanted to range over her body, stroke naked skin. In a moment he would go too dangerously far when all he’d meant to do was walk her back to the hotel and the safety of her own bed.
This was Shelley Logan he was plying with fierce, insistent kisses and caresses. Had he forgotten? Her body was rippling now, at his every stroke. She was panting a little, leaning into him, her beautiful hair all over her face, his face. He could inhale its clean scent. He knew he had only to apply a little more pressure, but a kind of purity attended her.
He released her so abruptly Shelley was obliged to make a grab for his shirt.
“Brock!” She held tight to him, disoriented, genuinely worried for a moment that she might faint. She didn’t feel solid at all, but floating. Every part of her he had touched was scintillating, aglow.
“I didn’t mean that to happen.” His own speech was rough with emotion.
“I never dreamed you did.” This was far beyond anything she had experienced before.
“But you wanted me to.”
“Did I?” She pressed a hand to her breast. Her heart was beating crazily. “I thought you were going to kiss me until morning.”
“Believe me, I want to,” he said edgily. “But I had to decide against it.”
She tried hard to adjust to his abrupt change of mood. “Would it be too much to ask why?”
“You want the truth?” He stared down at her with intensity. “You’re simply too sweet, too soft, too succulent. And I’m too hungry. I couldn’t have it ending in tears.”
In brief seconds Shelley found the strength to stand clear of his lean, powerful body. “You won’t be getting any tears from me, Brock,” she said, putting a lot of fire into it. “Your innumerable conquests have gone to your head. It’s not the first time you’ve kissed me, anyway, and I’ve managed to survive.”
“Well, was that better or worse than the last time?” He took a step towards her, but she took a corresponding step back.
“Let’s say it was marginally better than shaking hands.”
“That’s why you couldn’t stand by yourself for a few moments?” he taunted. “I don’t want to upset you, but now’s not the time to run off the rails—even if I’d like nothing more. My future is under threat.”
“Not from me,” she rejoined.
He gave a wince. “That was as sharp as a slap.”
“You deserved it!” Finally she managed to subdue her hair. “Let’s forget about it, shall we? I know I can.”
His laugh was mocking. “Don’t get mortally offended, but I don’t think you’ll find it as easy as all that.”
“Won’t I?” She put out a flat hand and pushed him in the chest. “I’m a very disciplined person, Brock Tyson, you devil.”
“Really? A devil?” He locked his fingers around her wrist. “Think about it. I could have taken that further.”
“I bet you do that a lot!”
“Well, tonight I just couldn’t handle it.” He spoke with so much self-mockery she blushed. “Have you any idea how beautiful you are?”
This was a man who could melt a woman without laying a hand on her. “You’re the one having difficulties, not me,” she countered. “Are you going to let go of me?”
“No.” He raised her hand lingeringly to his mouth. “But I am going to walk you back safely to the pub. Isn’t that the decent thing?”
“Next you’re going to tell me I’m different to every other girl you’ve ever met,” she said tartly.
“Well, of course you are.” He sounded amused. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever kissed who doesn’t keep her eyes closed.”
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