Tycoon's Temptation by Trish Morey

Author:Trish Morey [Morey, Trish]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, General, Contemporary Romance, Fiction
ISBN: 9780373132713
Google: MZYdAwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00J2ZVDRS
Barnesnoble: B00J2ZVDRS
Goodreads: 21471450
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

FRANCO PASSED THE bottle to her reverently, his grey eyes the colour of the clouds that had scudded across the same storm-tossed sky the day he’d arrived, ripe with intent, ready to unleash their load.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight and dry, took the bottle from his hands and could feel those eyes on her back, through the layers of her clothes, warm upon her skin. The bottle opener slipped from her shaking hands and clattered to the floor

He picked it up, coming up so close that she couldn’t breathe, his eyes not leaving hers. ‘You dropped something,’ he murmured, so close to her face that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Her tongue flicked out to see if he tasted as good as she remembered.

He didn’t taste as good.

He tasted better.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered as their hands connected around the shaft of the opener, their eyes connected on another level. Vaguely she was aware they hadn’t finished, that there was one bottle in her hand left to disgorge, a bottle opener poised.

Just one more bottle.

It would only take a second.

But the hand curling around her neck, the fingers sliding through her hair, demanded her attention. His lips demanded her focus.

And if she could just get this bottle out of the way, then her hands would be free, like his. Right now she wished her hands were free to slide around his neck and up his chest.

Then his fingers in her hair drew her towards him and his lips came closer, and dammit, she needed her hands to be free.

It would only take a second.

The bottle cap and the lees shot into the booth. She covered the top with her thumb. Swung the bottle—she really could do this in her sleep—and dosaged the bottle the very same second his mouth met hers and she sighed into his kiss, and of the two incidents, the kiss was the more compelling, his lips opening, inviting hers to follow his lead, and she was all too willing to follow. Until wine under pressure sprayed from the bottle and by the time Holly remembered she should have covered the top, they were showered with the freshly dosaged wine. And they were both shocked and sticky and laughing as he took the fizzing bottle from her hand and parked it safely away on the bench where it could do no more harm.

Her heart was thudding a million miles an hour, blood fizzing and under pressure in her veins like the wine in the bottle when he stopped laughing and put his hands to his lips and tasted and frowned. ‘It needs something,’ he said before he took her face in his hands and sampled her lips, his tongue sweeping their width. ‘Perfect,’ he declared, and pulled her hard against him.

She went willingly. He tasted of the wine and of the liqueur they used to replace the sweetness; he tasted of warm skin and hot breath, and of grape juice, fermented and strong, on his hot lips and his even hotter mouth.

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