Microsoft Word - Stephanie Rowe - [Manhattan Otherworld 4] - Sex & the Immortal Bad Boy _html_ by Riviani

Author:Riviani [Riviani]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-09-03T02:56:23.652000+00:00

down and gently brushed his lips over the tip as his phone rang again.

Paige sucked in her breath. “Oh, wow. Theresa wasn’t exaggerating. This . . .”

Jed swallowed her words with a kiss, cupping her face with his hands, desperate to get

closer, to drink in more of her, to feel her kissing him back with such reckless need.

She knew what he was, and she wanted him anyway.

And not because she wanted the thrill of getting it on with a bad guy, or because he

was wrong for her, and was a danger to her . . . she wanted him because she couldn’t

help herself. . . .

Suddenly he couldn’t get enough. He crushed his mouth over her breasts, yanked at

her jeans, desperate to be inside her, to be closer, for one minute to just feel her

complete and total acceptance of him, and to let the brightness of her soul consume

him.

Her hands met his and she unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped them, because his

fingers had suddenly started trembling too hard to manage her pants. Her hands

dropped from his and went to his hair again as he slipped his hand beneath the silken

material, to the softness of her core.

Paige’s hips jerked under his touch. “Holy hell,” she whispered. “Jed—”

She was ready for him, hot and pulsing, and heat roared into his brain, slamming him

so hard he could barely see. “You want me.” He couldn’t believe it. “But I’m damned.”

“Jed!” She yanked his hair so he had to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her

mouth was parted, and she looked like she’d been thoroughly loved, and was still

eager for more. “When are you going to get that I don’t care about that? You aren’t

some flawed beast! You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met and I want you to

make love to me until my body is nothing but a weak puddle of mush on the burned‐

out patch of grass we’re lying on—”

He groaned, yanked his hand out of her pants, and rolled off her.

She propped herself up on her elbows, not even bothering to pull her shirt and bra

back down over her breasts. “What? What did I say? What happened?”

He reached over and tugged her bra back down, tucking her safely out of sight. “I can’t

make love to you. It’ll push you over the edge if our souls merge.” He glanced around.

“And we’re in the middle of a burned‐out baseball stadium. Anyone could come by and

catch us.” He felt like growling at the thought of anyone spying on Paige. “Your first

time can’t be here. It should be surrounded by candles, on a four‐poster mahogany

bed with white silk sheets, champagne and strawberries, with something romantic

playing on the CD player, with a guy who you love who will love you forever . . . or

some shit like that.”

She stared at him, her mouth open.

“What?” He eased her shirt back down and pushed her hair out of her face, tucking it

behind her ear.

“You’re a romantic. I can’t believe it!”

He scowled as he rubbed dirt off her cheek.

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