Judy Hubbard - These Arms of Mine

“What do you think you’re doing?” She pressed her hands against his solid chest, trying unsuccessfully to break free from his unwelcomed embrace.

“You’ll have to do better than this, or you won’t convince anyone that you’re madly in love with me.” He lowered his head toward hers.

She continued to struggle in vain. However, when his lips were mere inches from hers, one hand released her silky tresses from their confining clasp, allowing the shoulder-length tendrils to slide over his fingers as he pulled her mouth toward his. As he had known it would, her hair felt like silk against his fingers. His appreciative eyes swept her distraught face thoroughly.

“I prefer your hair loose, remember?”

“Mr. Chandler, I don’t care what you prefer.”

“Oh, but you will care.” His softly voiced promise caught in her throat as he once again instructed her to use his first name.

“No.” She strained against his ironclad embrace.

“You’ll say my name on moans of passion in just a few seconds.”

“Never.”

She knew her denial lacked believability because her voice was breathless, and a strange feeling began forming in her stomach at his nearness.

“We’ll see.”

Before she could respond, determined lips closed over hers in a strong kiss. His mouth was warm and inviting, not cold and repulsive as she had hoped it would be. She had known from past experience that his lips would feel like this—wonderful and vital. Days, months and years were swept away by his sensual mouth as it thoroughly refamiliarized itself with hers.

Her heart began to beat rapidly—not in fear, but in arousal. She moaned in protest to her thoughts and his actions, and her mouth parted slightly in shock and surrender.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He took full advantage of her surprise, sliding his tongue between her lips to slip into the honeyed recesses beyond. He continued to masterfully taste every centimeter, every tantalizing crevice of the bounty he had uncovered.

Her hands moved to his shoulders to push him away, yet stopped there, resting instead. Did she really want to escape? That simple yet complex question rolled around in her dazed mind. A hundred confusing sensations bombarded her entire being as Derrick continued his mind-shattering caresses. She hadn’t expected to be blown away by a simple kiss after two years. However, there was nothing remotely simple about Derrick’s kiss, or her disheartening responses to the masterful, sensual onslaught he was unleashing on her.

One of his hands slid languidly down her back to rest on her hip, pressing her closer against his hard length as his mouth continued to plunder hers. Her eyes were half closed, as sensation after sensation—each an awakening, each frightening and intensely pleasurable—began to overpower her self-proclaimed resentment of the man whose arms she was nearly melting into. The hands resting on his shoulders flexed and then tightened their grip as she resisted an almost irrepressible urge to entwine them around his neck and press herself even closer against his hard length.

Never in a million years would she have dreamed she would be in Derrick’s arms again, enjoying his kisses and caresses. Yet, here she was, wanting, almost reveling, in this intimate contact with a man she should hate for blackmailing her into marriage. She hadn’t bargained for this. She hadn’t expected to still be attracted to him physically. How could this be? Even as the question arose in her mind, she admitted that he was the only man who had ever elicited such thorough, satisfying, mind-boggling passion from her and, to her dismay, he had lost none of his skills when it came to arousing her hidden desires.

His lips slowly drew apart from hers, despite a slight moan of protest from her, and he huskily commanded, “Say my name.”

“No.”

Her voice was soft and tortured. For the life of her she didn’t know where the strength to articulate came from.

Her refusal made him pull her closer, until she felt every hard inch of his wonderful body pressed intimately, maddeningly against her own. Unapologetic hands slipped beneath her sweater to touch the satiny heated flesh of her back, and she thought she would die from something very close to rapture when he pulled her yet closer.

Playful lips nipped at hers before sliding down her jaw to burrow into her softly scented throat. She gasped as he raked his strong teeth across her skin, and then his tongue traced the outline of her collarbone before he raised his head to stare into her confused, dazed, passion-glazed eyes.

“Say my name.” As he softly repeated his previous command, one of his hands moved to her hair, his fingers entangling there.

He was as surprised as she looked at the shock of pleasure holding and kissing her elicited within him. It was as if the damnable time they had spent apart had never occurred. He pulled her mouth to within centimeters of his. His tongue skimmed her lips lightly before retreating again, refusing to give her what she wanted until she yielded to his demands.

“Say it.”

His warm breath intermingled with hers as the hand at her back moved to rest between her shoulder blades before sliding back down her satiny flesh. He needed to hear his name on her lips, whispered with passion before he muffled the sound with his ravenous, hungry mouth.

She closed her eyes briefly before acquiescing. She spoke so softly he thought he had imagined it.

“Derrick.”

“Again.” He softly kissed her quivering lips—lips that were as addictive as anything he had ever known.

“Derrick,” she reiterated on a sigh, and then on a moan, as he had foretold, as his lips and hands continued to lightly caress her. “Derrick.”

The last thing she saw was his smile—not of triumph, but of understanding—before her eyes closed once her mouth was finally, ravenously recaptured. He kissed her again and again and she prayed he would stop soon before she begged him never to. His lips were like a magnet, attracting her against her will, holding her mesmerized, unable to break away.

The last thing she wanted was to escape from this intensely pleasurable embrace. Her mind screamed out for her to put as much distance between them as possible, yet her body craved closer contact with his—much closer. How could she remotely tolerate kisses from a man who was single-handedly ruining her career and stealing her freedom? What in the name of God was wrong with her? She couldn’t begin to formulate an answer anymore than she could deny that she craved and enjoyed his kisses, almost to the point of self-destruction.

After endless, sweet minutes of torture, his firm, strong, warm lips dragged themselves from hers. She fought the urge to pull his mouth back to hers and gradually opened her confused, embarrassed eyes to find him staring at her with an unreadable expression. Her cheeks were warm, her lips were trembling, and she could just die from the embarrassment.

He smiled slightly, one of his fingers trailing over her quivering, moist lips as he huskily said, “I think our arrangement will be very profitable and pleasurable—for the both of us.”

She pushed away from him at his words, partly in anger and partly just needing to escape from his overpowering presence and from her own desires. She needed to get out of there! This time he let her go, and this time she nearly ran out the door, not stopping to look back—certain she would find him following her.

Had she turned to stare at him, she would have seen echoing arousal, disbelief and dismay etched on his handsome features. Her retreating pace accelerated until she was safely out of his maddening reach—for the moment.

A few days later, she sat beside Derrick in one of the most upscale jewelry shops in Washington. Even though she had insisted she didn’t want an expensive ring, he had been adamant that she would wear a ring to be marveled at, for appearances’ sake.