Free Tempt Me at Midnight by Maureen Smith

deeper. He plunged inside, his tongue exploring her mouth with hungry, masterful strokes that sent liquid fire racing through her veins, pounding into her sex. She found herself lifting on tiptoe to get even closer to him, to press her aching nipples into his chest, to grind her pelvis against the hard, heavy ridge of his erection.

    He dragged his mouth from hers to plant kisses across her cheekbone, muttering raggedly, “I’ve been trying like hell to forget what you smell like. What you taste like.

    What you feel like.” His tongue traced the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “But it’s no use. I can’t get you out of my mind. I need you, Lexi. Need you so damn much.”

    A whimper of longing escaped her throat.

    “You’re not leaving me,” he growled, his voice rough with anger and desperation.
    “Not without a damn fight.”

    Her heart thundered in her chest. “Quentin—”

    He took her mouth again, silencing her with a deep, plundering kiss that left her moaning and clinging tightly to him. All these years, she silently marveled. How could she not have known that he was capable of this kind of raw, soul-shattering passion? How could she not have known?

    He lifted her with breathtaking ease and set her down on the counter, groaning thickly when she wrapped her legs around him. She clung to his big, muscled shoulders as their mouths meshed and parted hungrily, sharing the same warm breath. She was drowning in the taste of him, the intoxicatingly male scent of him. As she ran her hands down his firm, muscled butt, she wondered what it would be like to experience the full power of this desire unleashed, to allow Quentin to make love to her just once.

    Deepening the kiss, he sank one hand into her short hair, sifting the layered strands through his fingers. With his other hand he reached under her shirt. She shivered as he traced the curves of her body, skimming the underside of her bare breast. He cupped her in his palm, and she cried out at the feel of his fingers kneading her sensitized breast, his thumb brushing across her erect nipple. Need tore through her body.

    And finally shocked her back to sanity.

    She wrenched her mouth from his, gasping and trembling violently. “No,” she whispered. “We can’t do this.”

    He groaned hoarsely. “Lex—”

    “ No. I mean it, Quentin. No more.” She flattened her hands against his chest and shoved him away—or at least tried to. He was as immovable as a concrete wall.

    Slowly he raised his head to meet her gaze, his bright, heavy-lidded eyes glittering with fierce arousal. Tension radiated from his body. The hard, pounding rhythm of his heart vibrated against her palms.

    She dragged in a deep, shaky breath. “You shouldn’t have kissed me,” she told him with as much composure as she could summon. “And I shouldn’t have let you.”

    “Why not?”

    “Why not?” she echoed incredulously. “Because we’re friends, Quentin.”

    “Friends make the best lovers,” he murmured, gently stroking a hand down her hair.

    Her belly quivered, and she resisted the urge to lean into his touch like a purring, contented cat. Jerking her head away, she said firmly, “Look, what happened in France was a mistake.”

    “It didn’t feel like a mistake,” he countered huskily. “And neither did this.”

    “Well, it was. And it can’t happen again. I’m serious, Quentin. Don’t push me too hard, or I’ll—”

    “What?” he taunted, challenge flashing in his eyes. “You’ll run away? Pretend this never happened? Good luck with that.”

    She stared at him, torn between anger and confusion. “Why are you doing this?
    Why are you trying to ruin our friendship?”

    “I’m not,” he said softly. “Your friendship means more to me than anything, Lex.”

    Her heart constricted. “Then don’t do this to us, Quentin. Please. ”

    He held her imploring gaze for what seemed an eternity.

    Finally he stepped back and helped her down from