(1995) Walking After Midnight by Karen Robards

Author:Karen Robards [Robards, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Suspense, Romance
ISBN: 9780440215905
Publisher: Dell
Published: 1995-10-01T05:00:00+00:00

24

This time the earth moved. Bells rang. Stars exploded in Summer’s head. His mouth was hard and hot and, surprisingly, very gentle. His tongue touched her lips, slid between her parted teeth, and claimed her mouth. A warm, strong hand found her left breast, closing over it through the thin nylon. Summer’s senses swam.

Shaking, she kissed him back with abandon, eyes closed, arms locked around his neck. When his hands parted the ravaged edges of her blouse to stroke her bare breasts, Summer arched her back to offer him greater access. When his mouth left hers to slide down her throat and close over one pebble-hard nipple, Summer clutched the back of his head, pulling him closer as he switched his attention from one eager nipple to the other.

Never in her life had she felt passion like this.

Impatient with his clothes, her hands wormed under his sweatshirt and muscle shirt to clutch his back. His skin was warm, smooth. The muscles beneath were strong. Summer stroked those hard contours, glorying in his strength. Her palms slid down along his spine to burrow beneath the waistband of his cutoffs.

„Jesus.“ Frankenstein – Steve – pulled away, sitting up suddenly and yanking both shirts over his head in a single fluid movement. Summer looked at his broad shoulders, at the,wide expanse of his chest with its wedge of curly black hair, at the hollow of his throat and his flat male nipples and the neat circle of his navel spilling over the waistband of his shorts, and felt her mouth go dry. She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him!

He fumbled with the metal button that fastened his shorts. Brushing his hands aside, Summer freed it herself. Then she found the metal tab of his zipper and pulled it down.

Hiding coyly beneath the white cotton of his Jockey shorts, the burgeoning evidence of his desire for her thrust through the open V of the zipper.

Summer caught her breath, and ran her forefinger down the length of the bulge.

„Rosencrans, you’re blowing my mind,“ he said. Then, before she could even think about reminding him that under the circumstances her name was Summer, for heaven’s sake, he was on top of her, his mouth on hers, his hands between them fumbling for the fastening of her slacks.

There was no fastening. The cheap polyester pants had an elastic waist. Discovering that, he moved on. His hand slid down inside her pants, over her soft stomach to the nest of hair between her legs. Summer forgot to breathe as he caressed her with knowing fingers.

He found the small nub that ached for his attention, and proceeded to caress it until she was almost mindless. She was spiraling higher and higher…

All at once he froze. His fingers stilled at their task. His body, which had been pressing rhythmically against hers, went rigid. Summer whimpered, writhed, thrust herself pleadingly against his hand, begging him without words to continue. He didn’t move.

Her eyes opened. He was not looking at her.

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