“I’m sorry, George, I shouldn’t have spoken. I didn’t mean to upset y--.” Her voice splintered.
There was a muffled curse behind her.
And then he was there against her back, and his arms pulled her into him in a fierce, crushing squeeze. “Shh, shh. You have nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t mean to make you...” He cleared his throat, as if painful words had been stuck.
His heartbeat was fast, erratic; she tried to reach back.
“Don’t move.” He buried his head into the back of her neck. “Just stay like this.”
His stubbled jaw and chin pressed hard intoher skin.
She tried to twist around, toface him.
“Damn it, Millie, don’t turn around, or so help me God, I won’t answer for myactions.”
Heat flooded her. She could feel his body, all of it pressed against her back. She wasn’t imagining hisreaction.
Millie’s own resistance had frayed down toa thread.
“Do you want me to…” She cleared husk from her throat. “Shall I go and sit in the other room?” She may have had good intentions, but her voice dropped so low it could be lying ona pillow.
“No.” He breathed into her hair, and his arms tightened around hereven more.
Something pulsed deep between her legs, like a beat. It set off a magnetic current that took over inside her.
Her mind would have advised against it, but her mind had gone down below to enjoy itself in the warm poolof desire.
Heart beating out of control, she reached over her head and caressed his hair. Her, hand sank into the smooth, rich gorgeous hair—Oh dear God. Her fingers tangled and maybe pulled—
George’s strong hand caught her wrist, stopping her. “Millie, for God’s sake.” His voice was a tightly leashed growl. “I’m hanging on by a thread.” But he didn’t let go; his touch was burning hot as his thumb rubbed the inside of her wrist slowly. It pulled at that deep pulse belowher belly.
She tilted against his leg and looked into his face. His eyes were hooded, and a vertical line deepened betweenhis brows.
“Why?”
He looked at her. How could eyes—just eyes—do this to a woman? They held her gaze then travelled slowly down her face and settled on her lips. Whatever that pulse between her legs was, it hammered now and wouldn’t be ignored.
“You don’t want a man like me,” he said. “Trust me, you don’t. I know where this ends.” But his thumb was still stroking her skin. Did he even realize he wasdoing it?
She slipped out of his arm and turned around to face him. Her wrist was still in his hand. “No one knows how things end,” she said, trying for soft, but her voice came out husky. “Life is like wild plants; it does its own thing. Yes, there are risks, there always are.” She took a breath. “I’m not afraid.Are you?”
A burning look came into his eyes, and this time he didn’t stop her when she gently threaded her fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. He closed his eyes, and his chest rose and fell. He reached for her face, cupping her cheek in his palm, tracing with his thumb the line of her brow and down the bridge of her nose, slow,agonizing.
“That’s how blind people feel what someone looks like,” she spoke softly, barely audible.
“Have you ever been with a blind man?”He rasped.
“No, you are my first,” she whispered, closing herown eyes.
His thumb pressed over her lips, then brushed a trail around her upper lip, across her bottom lip, pulling it down. His thumb rested on the inside of her lower lip.
She touched it with the tip of her tongue, feather light, and he groaned. She tried it again, this time licking, and suddenly his mouth was on her.
Just that. His lips covered hers, nothing more. She wanted to kiss him. His lips were full and warm, and she wanted to taste his mouth. But he seemed to be waiting, holding himself back, holding them both onthe edge.
Okay, mein Herr,let’s see your control. She tilted her mouth very slightly, and he responded immediately, parting her lips wider. The tip of his tongue brushed across her lips. She moaned, a sound somewhere between pleasure and longing. Which seemed to end his resistance, and he pulled her hard into him, his mouth taking hers in a hungry kiss, his tongue making deep, slow strokes.
Her body melted into him, her head fell back, but he was there with her, not breaking the kiss. His hand cradled the back of her head as his face pressed over hers, their mouths locked. She lifted one knee from the floor and hooked her leg around him. And his free hand on the small of her back took her weight as they fell backward on the rumpled blanket.
