Page 39 of Bracing The Storm

I open my mouth to thank him for his time and say goodbye when I realize the door won’t open. I pull the handle a few times and press my shoulder blade against the glass.

The thing won’t budge under my weight.

Dammit!

What’s wrong with this car? Why won’t it let me out?

Panic shoots through me at the prospect of being stuck in such a confined space with him.

“Allow me,” Patrick says and leans over me to fumble with the door.

I turn my head sharply and find myself barely an inch from his face. His lips are so close to mine I can feel his hot breath on the corner of my mouth. Our eyes connect and the air charges again with something.

There’s so much tension I could probably cut it with a knife.

I should turn away, signal that his proximity isn’t welcome. But I find myself frozen, my lips parting in anticipation.

The silent invitation is there and he takes it.

His mouth crushes against mine as his fingers nestle in my hair, tugging slightly, pulling me to him with enough fervor to send my mind spinning. My lips part further to grant him access and he slips his tongue inside my mouth.

Heat begins to rush through me.

My open palm spreads across his chest, ready to explore him the way his mouth seems to explore mine. I’m not thinking about the consequences of our actions; I’m not thinking at all.

All I want is for him to touch me.

He feels like everything I ever imagined he would. All hard muscles and taut skin intermingled with that heady fragrance of his. I want to push my hands beneath the fabric of his shirt, trail my fingers all over him, know him like no one’s ever known him before.

Alarm bells begin to go off at the back of my head.

What am I doing?

I can’t get involved with this guy, not at this point in my life.

And yet my brain’s a mushy heap of nothing, unable to form a coherent thought against his hot mouth and the way he seems to savor every inch of it, dipping his tongue in, circling it with mine, then out again to lick my lips. Somehow, his hand finds its way underneath my shirt and begins to caress the soft swell of my abdomen, his splayed fingers putting just the right amount of pressure. His touch vibrates throughout my entire body, igniting nerve endings I didn’t know I had. A soft moan escapes my breath as the tugging sensation between my legs turns into a raging wildfire.

“Let’s go inside,” he whispers against my lips, as though reading my mind. There’s something in his hoarse tone that signals he has specific plans for us.

I want him so much I open my mouth to tell him I’m game with whatever he has in mind when he withdraws from me abruptly.

Something’s wrong.

Even through the fog in my mind, I can feel the shift in him. I pry my eyes open, trying to make sense of his sudden change of mind when I notice a car rolling up the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires.

Patrick doesn’t say a word, instead runs a hand through his hair and straightens in his seat, his gaze glued to the sports car. I don’t need to wait for the driver to exit to know who it is.

Both annoyance and relief flush through me at the same time.

My lawyer’s unannounced visit is bound to bring news, good or bad. It doesn’t even matter at this point when he’s just saved me from entangling myself in yet another mess.

And yet I wish Duncan hadn’t turned up.

“It looks like you have a visitor. Better not keep him waiting,” Patrick says. His voice is nonchalant. I throw him a sideways glance, eager to catch his expression. But his face is blank, his gaze fixed on Duncan’s car.

I hesitate, unsure what to say. It’s been a turbulent day, but in spite of my better judgment I enjoyed his presence.

And particularly that kiss.

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