Canyon Kidnapping by Cindi Myers

Author:Cindi Myers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2022-08-31T18:42:57+00:00

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THAT KISS WAS like an undertow, pulling her off her feet and sweeping her away. Erik reached to drag her closer as she slid toward him, their bodies pressed together, their mouths communicating without words, the messages both familiar and brand-new. She climbed into his lap, needing to be closer still. His hands caressed her, kindling the excitement of long abstinence.

She slid her hands beneath his sweater, thrilling at the feel of his still-hard abdomen. She shoved the fabric up farther and kissed her way across his chest. He shifted beneath her, the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her crotch. In answer, she reached between them and lowered his zipper.

His hand around her wrist stilled her. “Why don’t we go into the bedroom?” he asked.

She was going to protest they could stay here on the sofa—why waste time? But as she shifted position her foot hit the coffee table, almost upending her tea mug. “That’s a good idea,” she said.

She slid off him and he stood, then hauled her to her feet alongside him. Instead of leading her to the bedroom, he pulled her close once more, and pressed his mouth to hers in a lingering kiss. For the second time that evening, she felt lifted out of her body, floating on a surge of warm emotion and a memory of past happiness.

But this time that was accompanied by an eagerness for the future. She and Erik had both confessed they weren’t the same people they had been three years ago, when they had last made love. How would that change their approach to sex? How wonderful that they had a chance to find out.

At last he raised his head, looking as dazed as she felt. He didn’t say anything, merely took her hand and tugged her out of the room.

His bedroom was dark and a little chilly. He moved around the bed, switching on lamps, then turned back the covers. “Is it too cold in here?” he asked.

“I think we’ll find a way to warm up,” she said, then pulled her fleece top over her head.

He quickly moved in to help her with the remaining layers—silk long underwear, fitted tank, panties and socks. When she was naked and shivering, she slid under the covers and sat, hugging her knees to her chest, to watch him undress.

He was a gorgeous man. All lean muscle and grace. She found herself searching his body for all the things she remembered—the small scar on his abdomen from surgery to remove his appendix when he was seventeen. The mole on the left side of his upper back.

Then her eyes locked to something new—a small tattoo of a butterfly above his left hip bone. She stared. The symbol seemed so out of place. Had some girlfriend persuaded him to get it? Someone he had loved after her?

He noticed her staring, and looked down at the butterfly. “It’s in memory of Claire,” he said. “I had it done a few months after we split up.

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