Marry Me by Susan Kay Law

Author:Susan Kay Law [Law, Susan Kay]
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780739425411
Publisher: Avon Books
Published: 2002-04-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Emily didn’t move. She didn’t dare. If she twitched, if she even breathed, Jake might come to his senses and pull away.

And this was too sweet, far too rare, to risk.

He’d slid in beside her, no attempt to put barriers between them, no careful distance between their bodies. He moved right up beside her, first the flat of his chest—so hard, so solid—firmly pressed against her. The heat came immediately, flooding the space. It was unnecessary, the night comfortably warm, but she loved his heat anyway, the blast of a live, male body next to hers.

And then his arm came around her waist. It nestled into the slope between her ribs and her hips and her breath snagged in her throat. His chin was at her shoulder, and she could feel his breath washing over her skin.

Oh, it was heaven, this stolen bliss. She didn’t consider herself a truly innocent woman—too many hours with the more graphic volumes in Dr. Goodale’s library had given her a practical, working knowledge. But she never suspected the power of it, the seductive draw of Jake’s body near hers. She hadn’t earned this pleasure—he wasn’t her husband, her suitor, her anything. It made it all the more scandalous, all the more precious for being unexpected, and because it might be snatched away at any second, never to be repeated, leaving her all the more inclined to savor every moment, each sensation.

His legs, so much longer than hers, stretched out alongside hers as she lay on her back. How could they possibly be as hard as they felt? She dared to wiggle her right leg a fraction. Nope, no give at all. If her leg was a pillow, his was fashioned from solid steel.

He was covered from neck to ankle; so was she. But his feet were bare, and he brushed one against hers. His toes kneaded the top of her foot. Drew a line up her instep, which made her foot twitch and him chuckle softly.

Goodness. Feet. Prosaic, ordinary, completely uninteresting feet. And the wickedness caught her completely. Made everything inside her go soft and weak, her skin feverish, her breath shallow and uneven. Heavens, she knew nothing! Nothing at all, if feet could do this. Anything more, she was sure, would send her flying.

And then he put his hand on her belly. Just rested it there, on the flat beneath her navel. So big it covered almost the entire space, so warm it seared her through the sturdy cotton of her nightdress.

“Shhh,” he murmured, so quietly she barely heard it. And spread his fingers, so that his thumb bumped up against the lower swell of her breasts, and she arched a little, without realizing it was her intent. “Don’t move.” He pressed down against her midsection, keeping her in place, and his thumb moved. Back and forth, a small, modest, oh-so-wonderful motion, nudging her left breast, a slow sweep across the valley between them, then a brush against the right. More, less—she didn’t know which she longed for, knew she needed something.

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