‘I don’t remember making out in a car being this uncomfortable, do you?’ he asked.
Bel resisted the urge to snort. As though she had any experience making out in a car … or anywhere else, for that matter. Her teenage years had clearly not been as exciting as his. She’d lost her virginity to Tubby Smithfield at his brother’s twenty-first birthday party behind his family’s old shearing shed. The only notable thing about it was that Tubby was so drunk, he barely remembered it. She, on the other hand, had spent years trying to forget.
‘You okay to risk making a run for it?’ he asked.
‘Sure,’ she said. She could do with a splash of cold water to help quelch the fire-like sensation that was burning her from the inside out. Launching out of the car, she yelped, racing for the protection of the front porch. Brushing her dripping hair out of her face, she unlocked the front door, frantically trying to recall how tidy the house was. Thankfully, as she shook off droplets of water and scanned the vicinity, she discovered it was in reasonably good order.
‘I’ll get us some towels,’ she said, heading for the bathroom where she quickly patted her face dry and assessed thedamage to her hair and make-up before returning to hand him a clean towel.
‘This isn’t how I imagined your house,’ he said as he roughly ran the towel over his face and head.
Really? You imagined my house?
‘It’s a lot more homely than I was picturing.’
‘Is that a bad thing?’ she asked nervously.
‘Not at all. It just surprised me. You journal?’ he asked, bending down to pick up the glossy hardback book in shades of pink and sparkly gold foil.
‘I … uh, yeah. A little bit.’
‘I didn’t imagine you doing that either,’ he said, turning the book over in his hand. She watched nervously, remembering she’d slipped her soulmate list inside for safekeeping.
‘Can I get you a drink? Or a coffee?’ she asked, feeling a rush of relief as he replaced the book on the table. Tate straightened then closed the gap between them, kissing her.
I can’t believe this is really happening. How many nights had she sat curled up on the lounge, reading a scene from a book and longing for it to be happening to her … and now it finally was.
‘God, that day we walked in on the dress fittings, and I saw you—’
Bel pulled back and looked at him. ‘Yousawme?’
His soft chuckle distracted her enough to let him continue. ‘I saw …mostof you,’ he corrected. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you.’
Bel groaned. ‘I feel like such an idiot.’
‘You shouldn’t. That was one of the hottest things I’ve seen in a long time.’
‘What?’
‘Your legs,’ he said, closing his eyes as though to bring forth the image, ‘in those heels, with that sexy backside wiggling about. That was something.’ He opened his eyes again and found hers with a lethal intensity that made her stomach tumble. ‘You’re like no one I’ve ever met.’
She could only imagine. He was used to dating sophisticated, classy women. But the way his voice had gone all rough and gravelly was doing the most amazing things to her body. The books were right. Who knew? She’d always suspected the descriptions of love scenes were pure fantasy, but here she was, swooning and preening like a simpering heroine.
He leaned in and kissed her more deeply, and all humiliation ebbed away on a rush of hungry need.
Surely this was all part of some amazing dream and she was going to wake up on the lounge with her book across her face. And yet, the sensations she was experiencing were all so very … real.Oh God, if this is a dream, please, please, please don’t let me wake up.A long, low moan escaped her as he moved his lips down the column of her throat and lower, sending a quiver of wanton abandonment throughout her body.
Who evenwasshe right now?
