Her Sinful Secret by Jane Porter

Author:Jane Porter [Porter, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarlequinUKLtd
Published: 2017-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

HE CAPTURED HER MOUTH with his, shaping her to him. The kiss had fire and an edge that revealed far more of his emotional state than he preferred her to know, but right now he was damned if he cared about anything but taking what he wanted. And he wanted her.

He would bed her tonight.

He would claim her as his.

He wondered if she even realized that she didn’t stand a chance because, now that she was here at Castle Ros, he wasn’t about to lose her.

He’d made the mistake once. He wouldn’t make the same once twice. And, no, his feelings weren’t tender or loving, but passion and possession didn’t require love. Passion and possession needed heat, and there was plenty of that.

“Mine,” he murmured against her mouth, making her heart race.

She heard him but couldn’t decipher it, not when heat flooded her, making her weak.

His kiss did this to her. His kiss turned her inside out, confusing her, making her forget who she was and why they didn’t work...

Because right now they did work. Right now he tasted like life and hunger and passion, and she wanted more, not less. And no, it wasn’t safe, but she hadn’t lost control in years...not since she was last with him...and suddenly she was desperate to be his...desperate to feel him and know him and remember why she’d given herself to him.

What had made him the one?

He shaped her to him, his powerful body hard against her and his mouth firm, nipping at her lip, parting her lips, tasting her. He wanted more from her, too. More response. More heat. The insistent hunger of his kiss made her head dizzy and legs tremble.

She clung to him, feeling one of his hands at the swell of her breasts. She shuddered and then shuddered again as he cupped her breast, sending sensation rushing through her. She made a hoarse sound of pleasure and he practically growled with satisfaction.

She felt his hands on the hem of her sweater, lifting the hem and tugging it up over her head, and then he was at the waistband of her trousers, tugging the zipper down before glancing at her feet and noticing the boots. He pushed her back onto the bed so that he could remove one boot and then the other, and then the trousers were gone, leaving her in just her bra and matching pantie.

She reached for his coverlet, wanting to hide, but he leaned over her, pinning her hands to the mattress.

“I want to look,” he growled, his voice deepening, his Irish accent becoming pronounced.

She felt shy and she closed her eyes, but even with her eyes closed she could feel his burning gaze, which drank her in the way a parched man drinks a tall, cool glass of water.

His head dipped, and his lips brushed her jaw and then the column of her throat.

Air bottled in her lungs and her toes curled as he kissed down her throat to the hollow between her collarbones.

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