Page 5 of His Fantasy Bride (Things To Do Before You Die)

This close he could breathe in her warm scent—sweat mingled with a sharp, citrusy perfume, as unfamiliar as the rest of her. She’d worn Chanel when he’d known her before. Her hands rose to rest on his shoulders, and she came up on tiptoe.

He should move, back away. He’d come here to talk, to find out what had gone wrong between them. Persuade her to come back and give him another chance.

Time seemed to slow. They’d kissed plenty in the month he’d known her, but always in control. Now his heart raced, his blood thundered in his veins, and he had an inkling his control could snap at any moment.

Move.

But he couldn’t do it. He was physically incapable of shifting his feet. He was stuck in place as her hands slid from his shoulders to sink into the hair at the back of his neck. A shiver ran through him as her fingers glided across his skull then exerted a slight pressure to lower his head.

Her eyes were half-closed, her lips slightly parted. Her tongue swiped across her plump lower lip, and every muscle in his body clenched up tight. His hands were hanging by his side, now they moved of their own accord with no direction from his brain. They settled on the deep indent of her waist, urging her closer.

He’d let her have her one kiss, and afterward they’d talk.

Then her lips touched his and all rational thought fled.

Chapter Two

Holy freaking moly.

The man could kiss.

Get a grip.

She wasn’t supposed to enjoy it—it had been a means to an end, that was all. She’d had to do something to get out of answering his question because she had no clue what to say. And hey, they couldn’t talk if they were kissing, so it was the logical thing to do.

And who am I kidding?

She’d been fighting the need to kiss him from the second she’d touched that sexy scar on his cheek. It gave him the look of a wicked pirate. She’d told herself it was merely curiosity—they’d kissed before, but she’d never really allowed herself to let go, had always felt a little guilty, and consequently kept herself detached. Those kisses had been nothing like this. Now with his mouth on hers, she never wanted to stop.

Okay, so it’s a crap plan and I’m delusional.

Once he learned what she’d done, he’d never want to see her again, let alone kiss her. He was going to hate her so badly. So she was taking this, because it would be the last chance she would ever get. And maybe, if she had him just the once, then she’d be able to get him out of her head and her heart, where he had no goddamn right to be.

He’d taken control of the kiss as soon as their lips had touched, his mouth firm and warm, his hands on her waist sending tingles along her nerve endings to settle between her thighs, flooding her sex with heat. Her breasts were crushed against the rock solid chest, her nipples already swollen. Nothing had prepared her for this. Then his lips parted, and his tongue pushed into her mouth. He tasted of hot Italian sunshine and spices and heat. His tongue slid along the edge of hers like warm wet velvet, and he kissed her until she was starved for oxygen, light-headed.

She came up from the kiss, gasping, her hands still clutched in the silky hair at the back of his neck. His dark eyes held a dazed expression, which was slowly clearing as he stared down at her.

If she stopped now, then he’d only start talking again, and she still had nothing sensible to say. So really what choice did she have? Shehadto keep kissing him.

Yes, Gabby, of course that’s why you’re doing this.Liar!

Ignoring the annoying voice in her mind, she tugged his head back down to her, and this time her tongue pushed inside his mouth, purely to stop any words coming out. She sensed a moment of resistance, a tenseness in his muscles, and then he gave in and kissed her back. His hands slid from her waist to cup her ass, and she groaned into his mouth as his fingers dug into her softness.

Damn. It feels so good. He feels so good.How had she ever found the strength to keep him at arm’s length before?

He lifted her without breaking the kiss, pressing her up against the wood of the door, his body hard against hers. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, she felt the push of his erection against her core, flooding her with heat. He was huge and hard, and how the hell had things gotten so hot between them so fast?

Never in the past had either of them come close to losing control. Now she didn’t think she could stop.

A small part of her mind niggled that this was wrong. This would complicate things, but her body was on fire with need. And she recognized that the attraction had always been there. She’d wanted him from the start, from the first time she’d seen him on that golden beach in Sicily. The intensity of that need had scared her, and from that moment, she’d kept herself in tight check.

Because she couldn’t have him. And she certainly didn’t deserve him.

Now she had to. Just once. She had to know what he felt like buried deep inside her. Her hands slid from his shoulders, pushed down between their bodies, over his chest, and she shoved them up beneath his shirt to graze the skin of his belly. Like hot satin.

As her fingers caressed his bare skin, he stopped moving, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. In this position she couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t reach the parts she needed to touch, and she wriggled in his arms.

He seemed to understand, his hands tightening on her, squeezing, then he turned her, backed her up, and rested her bottom on the cold marble of the wide counter that ran along beneath the mirror. He released his hold so he stood in the V formed by her thighs. His eyes were dark, and she could read nothing in them except need. A need that echoed her own. Some of the tension left her. She’d been in no way sure of him. He’d always been in such control, never pushing her further than he believed she wanted to go. A true gentleman.

---