Free The Right Mr. Wrong by Natalie Anderson Page A

emotionally alone for a long time—and he only wanted fun. Well, so did she.
    ‘What do you want me to do?’ he quietly asked.
    She picked up on the subtle meaning—he was giving her the chance to change her mind. She didn’t want to think about the past any more. Or the future. Instead she focused on the present. On the present that he was to her. ‘I want you naked. Take your tee shirt off.’
    He removed it immediately. Suddenly she felt confident. A confidence she’d never had all those years ago. Back then she’d just been overwhelmed. This time it was going to be different. Maybe he was right. This time she’d take all she needed from him. Do everything she wanted to. After all, it was only sex.
    She reached for his shorts, deftly undid them and shoved them—together with his boxers—down to his knees.
    ‘And now?’ He stood there, all bared magnificence.
    ‘Touch me.’
    He stepped out of the clothes and reached for her. And as he caressed her she caressed him. Running fingers over the body she’d once known so briefly, but so well. Still knew. Still admired...adored. She glanced back to his face, touched light fingertips to the smile that always melted her. He stepped closer, feathering kisses down her neck, to her breasts, his hands leading the way—tender, savouring, tormenting, until she was hot, restless, breathless.
    ‘Liam?’
    ‘Anything.’
    She whispered, her confidence growing still. And he answered in action—quick, devastating action.
    ‘We need to...’ He broke away for a moment and found his shorts, swiftly fitting the protection. Then his hands returned to her—sought out her sensitive parts. He listened, but too soon she couldn’t speak. It didn’t matter. He seemed to remember her as if it were yesterday. What she liked. What she really liked. What she discovered that she now adored.
    She shivered and tried to slip away from his touch as she got too hot, too quick. ‘I don’t want to come without you. I want you to be in me.’
    He laughed, again that edge of desperation. ‘Be over too soon.’
    His fingers trailed more, teasing until she was sighing and rocking and escalating towards the peak way, way too quickly.
    So now she needed to do more than speak; she had to seize control. Before she’d always lost control. Always been swept away. She shoved, her hands slapping on his chest. To her delight he fell back, letting her straddle him.
    ‘You gonna break out your whip now?’ he teased.
    She laughed but then shook her head. ‘No pain,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want this to hurt.’
    His laughing expression sobered completely. ‘No.’ Suddenly he moved, sitting up, his sky-high erection solid between them, rubbing against her in a way that had her squirming to lift and slide straight onto him.
    But it was the kiss that killed her. He thrust his fingers into her hair, cradling the back of her head in his broad palm, holding her in place as he kissed her in a way she’d never been kissed before. Not just passionate, not just deep.
    But somehow almost desperate—as if he were pouring a part of himself into her. She felt it raining down inside her, filling the gaps with warmth and sweetness.
    Giving .
    Oh, dear Lord, she couldn’t cope with this. She wanted this to be sex . Hot, sweaty, wild sex. She didn’t want something that seemed so much more.
    Trembling, she wrenched her mouth away. That was too savage, too tender, too much. How could it be even more intense than it had been before?
    She pushed away, slipping onto the middle of the big mattress. There had to be a way she could control this better, could put this into the purely sexual box she needed it to be in. She bent her head, trying to cope with the yearning of her body. And heard the hiss of his indrawn breath.
    Smiling, she leaned further forward onto her fists, sending him a glance over her shoulder and registered with pleasure the way his fiery gaze travelled down the length of her—to the part of