Authors: Linda Francis Lee
Tags: #Women television journalists, #Man-woman relationships, #Single women, #Contemporary, #General, #Romance, #Adult, #Fiction, #Athletes, #Texas, #Love stories
Suddenly Sexy (29 page)
He ran his tongue along her lips, opening her more. Their tongues
tasted and probed as she tugged his shirt-tails from his pants, wanting
to feel skin.
"Who are you?" he whispered hoarsely against her ear.
She hesitated for a second then said, "Does it matter?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She ran her hands up his chest, material
gathering against her wrists, and after another second he gave in again.
"Wrap your legs around me," he commanded in a gruff voice.
A sharp thrill ran along every nerve ending, centering deep and low.
She did as he asked, then felt a
shiver of excitement as he unzipped
the back of her dress, the beaded skirt riding higher until it came
up
around her hips, the top sliding lower until it revealed the curve of
her breasts.
He picked her up and wheeled her around, pressing her back against the
finely papered wall. Then he dipped his head, that dark hair brushing
against her as he trailed his lips along her skin.
"God, you are soft."
Lower and lower until he took one nipple in his mouth. He had exuded
raw sensuality just tending to
her wounds. Now, with his intent purely
sexual, there was an animal fierceness to him that scared her
as much
as it thrilled her.
White hot electricity pulsed through her, every nerve ending tingling.
Struggling, she tugged her arms
from the restraint of her dress, the
beads bunching in cool heaviness against her hips. When she was finally
free, she reached up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as his
thumbs found her nipples.
She felt hungry and needy in a purely
physical way.
She groaned without an ounce of inhibition when his thumb and
forefinger closed on one taut peak. She trembled inside and her head
fell back against the wall. Then he ripped off his shirt, lowering her
just a
bit and it was in a moment of gasping surprise that she felt the
hard contours of his naked chest against her breasts. She felt alive
and captive at the same time, pleasure heightened by the illicitness of
what
they were doing.
Reaching up, she tangled her fingers in his hair, instinctively arching
to him as he seared his mouth across her body. When he gently sucked
one breast, her hands knotted and she had to force herself to let go.
Neither of them said a word. They came together in a dance of silence.
Slowly, he let her down until she stood, her dress falling to her
ankles. His mouth nipped at her skin. He cupped her bottom, the thin
edges of a thong she had secretly purchased doing little to separate
them. Palms to flesh, his fingertips curled low until she felt him
touch the juncture between her spread thighs.
The contact surprised her. At first she felt self-conscious. She
started to break free. But that was the old Chloe. The one she'd find
again once she walked out the door and never saw this man again. But
right now she wanted to let go. While she had the chance. No one ever
had to know.
Drawing a breath, she widened her legs. His deep guttural moan brought
an answering cry welling up in her. She felt desperate, like this was
her only chance. She wanted more of him, wanted to be closer. He must
have sensed it in her. He pressed their bodies together. He kissed her
again, his hands coming up to frame her face as his mouth reclaimed
hers.
He nipped at her lower lip before teasing it open, allowing him in to
taste her more intimately. She didn't realize she had moaned until the
sound rumbled in her ears. She felt small and cherished, even
beautiful. Her hair was wild, but the way he held her made her feel as
if he could hold her forever and he'd be lucky.
His hands slid down her neck to her shoulders. The heels of his hands
grazed the tops of her breasts,
but not lower. The tips of his fingers brushed over her collarbones,
back and
forth as he kissed her.
She thought she would cry out in frustration
before he finally cupped her breasts in his palms.
He pressed them high, his fingers brushing over the peaks, circling.
She felt his breath against her ear when he ran his tongue along the
delicate shell. Then his thumb and forefinger closed with gentle
insistence, over her nipple. Pulsing, once, twice, his tongue dancing
the same rhythm in her mouth. She felt everything in the core between
her legs. Hot and needy.
When she groaned, he secured her spread eagle against the wall, his
hands touching her, worshipping her . . . wanting her. Cupping
her
hips, he pulled her to his hardness, again and again, in that rhythm
prescribed by his tongue.
She trembled, stunned by the strength of her need. His breath on her
nape was like wind to a fire.
He cupped her jaw, tilting her face to him. "I want you," he whispered.
His voice was laced with the sound of raw hunger. "I want you, too,"
she answered.
And when he started to undo his belt, she reached down to help, their
fingers tangling together.
Frantic, they tugged at the buckle and leather, and the sound of the
door banging against the lock didn't reach her at first. Her world
consisted of this stranger and his hands on her bare skin. But
something
must have registered with him because he cursed and tore away
from her.
With a sudden flash, she realized people must be gathered just outside
of the door. She could hear them talking, some woman complaining that
the hotel shouldn't lock the only bathroom they had in the main lobby.
Then someone else who told them to step back, followed by a jangle of
keys
against the lock.
"Oh, my gosh!" she gasped.
Thankfully her stranger wasn't paralyzed. He immediately whipped up her
shimmery dress, whirled her around and had her zipped back up with the
proficiency of a dresser at a Broadway play. Just as the
keys turned in
the lock, he had his own clothes back in place.
"Let me handle this," he stated, stepping in front of her to block her
from view.
He stood like a warrior, his stance wide, his features dark, his frame
massive and forbidding. If anyone could protect her from embarrassment,
this man could.
But Chloe was hardly paying attention. With her heart in her throat,
she lowered her head, tucking in her chin. Her heart beat like a drum,
pulsing through her, and the second the door opened, she flew into
action. She wheeled out from behind him, startling the small crowd who
had gathered, and dashed for
the door.
She felt badly leaving the stranger to deal with the mess, though not
badly enough to stay. But just
when she got through the crowd, for one
quick second, she looked back. He was looking at her, his hard-chiseled
face quickly shifting from surprise to anger when he understood what
she had done. A shiver of regret raced through her. He didn't look
like the type of man any sane person should anger.
She prayed she never
saw him again.
New York City home. She lives
in Manhattan with her husband, Michael.
Her romance novels have been nominated for numerous awards, including
the prestigious RITA Award. Looking for Lacey, a national bestseller,
is the first of several books set in her Texas hometown.
Readers can write to Linda Francis Lee at P.O. Box 231310, New York, NY
10023, or visit her website at
www.lindafrancislee.com.
Three friends, three sexy novels: Get swept away by Linda Francis Lee.
Sinfully Sexy and Simply Sexy coming soon!
tasted and probed as she tugged his shirt-tails from his pants, wanting
to feel skin.
"Who are you?" he whispered hoarsely against her ear.
She hesitated for a second then said, "Does it matter?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She ran her hands up his chest, material
gathering against her wrists, and after another second he gave in again.
"Wrap your legs around me," he commanded in a gruff voice.
A sharp thrill ran along every nerve ending, centering deep and low.
She did as he asked, then felt a
shiver of excitement as he unzipped
the back of her dress, the beaded skirt riding higher until it came
up
around her hips, the top sliding lower until it revealed the curve of
her breasts.
He picked her up and wheeled her around, pressing her back against the
finely papered wall. Then he dipped his head, that dark hair brushing
against her as he trailed his lips along her skin.
"God, you are soft."
Lower and lower until he took one nipple in his mouth. He had exuded
raw sensuality just tending to
her wounds. Now, with his intent purely
sexual, there was an animal fierceness to him that scared her
as much
as it thrilled her.
White hot electricity pulsed through her, every nerve ending tingling.
Struggling, she tugged her arms
from the restraint of her dress, the
beads bunching in cool heaviness against her hips. When she was finally
free, she reached up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as his
thumbs found her nipples.
She felt hungry and needy in a purely
physical way.
She groaned without an ounce of inhibition when his thumb and
forefinger closed on one taut peak. She trembled inside and her head
fell back against the wall. Then he ripped off his shirt, lowering her
just a
bit and it was in a moment of gasping surprise that she felt the
hard contours of his naked chest against her breasts. She felt alive
and captive at the same time, pleasure heightened by the illicitness of
what
they were doing.
Reaching up, she tangled her fingers in his hair, instinctively arching
to him as he seared his mouth across her body. When he gently sucked
one breast, her hands knotted and she had to force herself to let go.
Neither of them said a word. They came together in a dance of silence.
Slowly, he let her down until she stood, her dress falling to her
ankles. His mouth nipped at her skin. He cupped her bottom, the thin
edges of a thong she had secretly purchased doing little to separate
them. Palms to flesh, his fingertips curled low until she felt him
touch the juncture between her spread thighs.
The contact surprised her. At first she felt self-conscious. She
started to break free. But that was the old Chloe. The one she'd find
again once she walked out the door and never saw this man again. But
right now she wanted to let go. While she had the chance. No one ever
had to know.
Drawing a breath, she widened her legs. His deep guttural moan brought
an answering cry welling up in her. She felt desperate, like this was
her only chance. She wanted more of him, wanted to be closer. He must
have sensed it in her. He pressed their bodies together. He kissed her
again, his hands coming up to frame her face as his mouth reclaimed
hers.
He nipped at her lower lip before teasing it open, allowing him in to
taste her more intimately. She didn't realize she had moaned until the
sound rumbled in her ears. She felt small and cherished, even
beautiful. Her hair was wild, but the way he held her made her feel as
if he could hold her forever and he'd be lucky.
His hands slid down her neck to her shoulders. The heels of his hands
grazed the tops of her breasts,
but not lower. The tips of his fingers brushed over her collarbones,
back and
forth as he kissed her.
She thought she would cry out in frustration
before he finally cupped her breasts in his palms.
He pressed them high, his fingers brushing over the peaks, circling.
She felt his breath against her ear when he ran his tongue along the
delicate shell. Then his thumb and forefinger closed with gentle
insistence, over her nipple. Pulsing, once, twice, his tongue dancing
the same rhythm in her mouth. She felt everything in the core between
her legs. Hot and needy.
When she groaned, he secured her spread eagle against the wall, his
hands touching her, worshipping her . . . wanting her. Cupping
her
hips, he pulled her to his hardness, again and again, in that rhythm
prescribed by his tongue.
She trembled, stunned by the strength of her need. His breath on her
nape was like wind to a fire.
He cupped her jaw, tilting her face to him. "I want you," he whispered.
His voice was laced with the sound of raw hunger. "I want you, too,"
she answered.
And when he started to undo his belt, she reached down to help, their
fingers tangling together.
Frantic, they tugged at the buckle and leather, and the sound of the
door banging against the lock didn't reach her at first. Her world
consisted of this stranger and his hands on her bare skin. But
something
must have registered with him because he cursed and tore away
from her.
With a sudden flash, she realized people must be gathered just outside
of the door. She could hear them talking, some woman complaining that
the hotel shouldn't lock the only bathroom they had in the main lobby.
Then someone else who told them to step back, followed by a jangle of
keys
against the lock.
"Oh, my gosh!" she gasped.
Thankfully her stranger wasn't paralyzed. He immediately whipped up her
shimmery dress, whirled her around and had her zipped back up with the
proficiency of a dresser at a Broadway play. Just as the
keys turned in
the lock, he had his own clothes back in place.
"Let me handle this," he stated, stepping in front of her to block her
from view.
He stood like a warrior, his stance wide, his features dark, his frame
massive and forbidding. If anyone could protect her from embarrassment,
this man could.
But Chloe was hardly paying attention. With her heart in her throat,
she lowered her head, tucking in her chin. Her heart beat like a drum,
pulsing through her, and the second the door opened, she flew into
action. She wheeled out from behind him, startling the small crowd who
had gathered, and dashed for
the door.
She felt badly leaving the stranger to deal with the mess, though not
badly enough to stay. But just
when she got through the crowd, for one
quick second, she looked back. He was looking at her, his hard-chiseled
face quickly shifting from surprise to anger when he understood what
she had done. A shiver of regret raced through her. He didn't look
like the type of man any sane person should anger.
She prayed she never
saw him again.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author Linda Francis Lee is a native Texan now callingNew York City home. She lives
in Manhattan with her husband, Michael.
Her romance novels have been nominated for numerous awards, including
the prestigious RITA Award. Looking for Lacey, a national bestseller,
is the first of several books set in her Texas hometown.
Readers can write to Linda Francis Lee at P.O. Box 231310, New York, NY
10023, or visit her website at
www.lindafrancislee.com.
Three friends, three sexy novels: Get swept away by Linda Francis Lee.
Sinfully Sexy and Simply Sexy coming soon!
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