Amy Andrews - Girl Least Likely to Marry

Cassie mewed as his lips brushed hers and her senses filled up with him. There was no thought or logic or analysis in play any longer as she overdosed on his intoxicating scent, sucking him in, drenching her cells in his pheromones. Her body had completely taken over and left her brain out of the equation.

She raised herself up on tiptoes. Her hands slid around his neck. Her mouth parted of its own accord. She moaned and dragged him closer as hot, scalding lust lashed her insides and flayed her flesh with the driving need for more.

It didn’t make any sense. Not when she swiped her tongue across his lips, or pushed it inside, or stroked it against his. Not when she moaned. Not when she gasped. Not when she grabbed his lapels to press herself closer.

She’d never been kissed like this.

She’d never kissed like this.

And still she was full of him. Her head buzzed with the essence of him. Her mouth was on fire. Her belly was tight. The heat between her legs tingled and burned.

Tuck barely managed to hold onto her as Cassie kissed him as if she was an evil genius intent on wicked things and he was her latest experiment. He might not be dumb as a rock but he was certainly as hard as one now as her deep, sexy kisses, body-squirming and desperate little whimpers stroked all his hot spots.

She even kissed differently from other women. No mouth gymnastics, no hands down his pants in seconds, no theatrical panting, no Oh, baby, baby. Just a scorching one hundred percent, full-throttle touchdown of a kiss. Her lips on his lips. Open and going for it.

He pushed her hard against the door, wanting to get closer, to kiss her deeper. But he’d forgotten it was already slightly open and she stumbled backwards. Their mouths tore apart.

He grabbed for her, finding her elbow, dropping it once she’d stabilised. And then they stood staring at each other, breathing hard, not moving for a moment, neither sure which way to jump.

Tuck knew enough about women to know that look in Cassie’s eyes. He knew he could pick her up, stride into her room and lay her on the bed and she’d follow wherever he took her. And enjoy every single second of it.

But he saw a whole bunch of other stuff in her eyes too. Most of it he couldn’t decipher. But he could see her confusion quite clearly. Obviously that kiss just did not compute for Cassie.

She looked as if she needed some time to wrap her head around it. Hell, he sure as hell did!

‘Are you okay?’

Cassie nodded automatically but she doubted she’d ever be okay again. What the hell had just happened? She felt as if she’d just had a lobotomy. Could a kiss render you stupid?

‘I think I should go now. Unless…’ He dropped his gaze to her swollen mouth.

Cassie shook her head and took a step back. No ‘unless’. Go, yes. Just go. He’d turned her into a dunce.

Tuck smiled at her dazed look. It was nice to have left an impression on Little-Miss-Know-It-All, even if he was going to go to bed with a hard-on the size of Texas. ‘Goodnight, Cassiopeia.’

Cassie was incapable of answering him. She feared she’d been struck mute. As well as dumb. She watched him swagger to his room opposite, slot his key in, open his door. He turned as he stepped into his room.

‘I’ll be right over here. If you need a cup of shhu-gar.’

Cassie had no pithy comeback as his door clicked quietly shut.

THREE

After tossing and turning for most of the night—not something that was good for her sanity—Cassie woke at nine a.m. and the first thing she thought about was Tuck. She dragged a pillow over her head and bellowed a loud, furious denial.

She always woke at six. And most certainly never thought about a man.

Cassie’s brain was engaged the moment her eyes flicked open after her regulation eight hours’ sleep. For the last several years her waking thoughts had centred on her aurora research and she’d spring out of bed and head straight for her computer.

This morning her head was full of Tuck and the kiss.

Her computer, the research, her will to live—all lost in a sea of oestrogen.

She yanked the pillow off her head and turned on her side. Her baggy T-shirt was twisted around her torso and the movement pulled it taut against her breasts. Her nipples responded to the brush of fabric, her belly clamped, and a red-hot tingle took up residence at the juncture of her thighs.

Cassie dragged some deep breaths in and out, trying to conjure up the latest deep-space images she’d seen yesterday. But it was no use—she could still smell him in her nostrils and taste him on her mouth.

The phone rang and she snatched it up immediately, grateful for something else to do, to think about.

‘Hello?’

‘Cassie, get off that computer and get your heiny down here now,’ Marnie demanded. ‘Reese is back and we’re having breakfast.’

Her friend’s Southern accent reminded her of Tuck’s lazy Texan drawl and Cassie almost groaned out loud. ‘I’ll be there in ten.’

Anything—anything—to take her mind off the annoying jock.

Cassie entered the grand dining room exactly ten minutes later, completely oblivious to the eyebrows her rather informal attire was raising. She’d thrown on a pair of loose leggings and a baggy T-shirt with a slogan that said ‘Back in my day we had nine planets’—one of the many geek-themed shirts Gina, Marnie and Reese had sent her over the years.

She hadn’t even bothered to brush her hair—just pulled it back into her regulation low ponytail, with her regulation floral scrunchie, and pushed one of her many-toothed Alice bands into it, ensuring it stayed scraped back off her forehead. There really was nothing more annoying than hair getting in the way when she was in the middle of something.

Actually, there was now. And its name was Tuck.

Unlike the rest of the people in the dining room, dressed in their country club pasteles, her friends didn’t bat an eyelid as Cassie scurried their way, then plonked herself in one of the three empty seats at the round table. They’d have been shocked had Cassie dressed in any other way.

Cassie forced a smile to her face as she looked at a glowing Reese, radiating the same kind of happiness she had a decade ago when she and her Marine had first met. ‘When did you get back? Where’s Mason?’

‘An hour ago.’ Reese grinned, sipping at some coffee. ‘He’s taking care of some business.’

Cassie barely registered Reese’s reply but nodded anyway. A waiter interrupted and Cassie, ignoring the piles of pancakes the others were tucking into, ordered the same thing she had every morning for breakfast—yoghurt and muesli and two slices of grain toast with Vegemite. When he informed her they didn’t have Vegemite she ordered jam.

‘You okay?’ Reese frowned. ‘You look kind of tired.’

‘I didn’t sleep very well,’ Cassie said.

Marnie looked at Gina, and Gina narrowed her eyes at Cassie. ‘Since when doesn’t Little-Miss-Eight-Hours not sleep well?’

Cassie looked at her friends all watching her with curiosity. She shrugged. She didn’t know what to tell them because she’d never not slept well.

Gina lounged back in her chair, her arms crossed, her fingers tapping against her arms. ‘This hasn’t got anything to do with a certain quarterback, has it?’

Marnie sat forward, her blonde hair neat as a pin in a high ponytail that was one hundred percent more cute and perky than Cassie’s. ‘It does, doesn’t it?’

Reese frowned at both her friends. ‘Tuck?’

‘Tuck and Cassie danced last night,’ Gina said.

‘Real close,’ Marnie added.

Reese blinked at her. ‘Cassie?’

Cassie had decided on her way down to the dining room that she wasn’t going to tell a soul about the strange feelings coursing through her body, but she felt herself sag under the scrutiny of three sets of eyes. She’d always been a great believer in solving problems by seeking out experts in the field. And, having lived with these three women and been through all their relationship ups and downs, she had to admit she had a panel of experts in front of her.