Free The Alibi by Sandra Brown

her
    throat to his lips while he caressed her. Her breath
    caught and held when he fumbled with the front clasp
    of her brassiere, but she released a soft murmur of
    pleasure when his fingertips brushed her bare skin.
    Her hands moved over his back. He felt all ten of
    her fingers kneading muscle and exploring ribs and
    spine. Her palms skimmed over his belt, settled on
    his butt, pulled him into her.
    They kissed once more, a long, deep, provocative
    kiss.
    Then he took her hand again and pulled her along
    behind him as he felt his way across the living area
    into the bedroom. The cabin wasn't luxurious by any
    means, but he hadn't sacrificed all creature comforts.
    Into a room too small for one, he had crammed a
    king-size bed.
    It was across this that they fell, coming together in
    its center and twining around one another with the
    blind, mindless craving of new lovers.
     
    She lay on her side facing away from him.
    Hammond tried to think of something appropriate
    to say, but he discarded possibilities before they were
    fully formed. Everything that came to mind sounded

either false, corny, cliched, or a combination thereof.
    He even thought about telling her the truth.
    My God, that was incredible.
    You are incredible.
    I've never felt like this in my life.
    I don't want this night ever to end.
    But he knew she wouldn't believe any of it, so he
    said none of it. The long, strained silence became
    even longer and more strained. Eventually he rolled
    to his side and switched on the nightstand lamp. She
    reacted to the light by pulling her knees up closer to
    her chest, if anything becoming more withdrawn and
    untouchable.
    Discouraged, he sat up. His shirt was twisted and
    unbuttoned, his pants unzipped, but he was still wearing
    both. Getting up, he removed everything except
    his boxers. When he looked up again toward the bed, she had rolled onto her back and was watching him,
    her eyes wide and apprehensive.
    "This is an awkward moment. That's fair to say,
    isn't it?"
    Hammond gingerly sat down on the edge of the
    bed. "It's fair, yes."
    She wet her lips, rolled them inward, averted her
    eyes from his, and nodded. "Are you trying to think
    of a graceful way to get rid of me now?"
    "What?" he exclaimed softly. "No. No." He extended
    his hand to touch her hair, but let it fall before
    it reached her. "I was trying to think of a way to get
    you to stay the night without making a complete fool
    of myself."
    He could tell that pleased her. Her eyes found his
    again. She smiled shyly. Still sex-flushed, her lips
    slightly swollen from hard kissing, her hair tousled
    around her face, clothes in more disarray than his had
    been, she looked incredibly seductive. Her breasts,
    freed from her brassiere, lay softly against her chest
    beneath her top. But her nipples were distinct against
    the weave. He started getting hard again.
    "I'm a mess." Self-consciously she tugged her
    skirt down over her thighs. Both of them ignored the
    pair of panties lying on top of the bedspread at the
    foot of the bed. "May I use your bathroom?"
    "Right through that door." He stood to leave so she
    would have more privacy. "I'll get us something to
    drink. Are you hungry?"
    "After eating all that junk food at the fair?"
    He returned her smile. "How about some water?
    Juice? Tea? Soft drink? Beer?"
    "Water's fine."
    He hitched his chin toward the connecting bathroom
    door. "If you need anything, just ask."
    "Thank you."
    She seemed reluctant to get off the bed while he
    was still in the room, so he smiled at her again and
    left her alone. Thankfully the cleaning lady had
    stocked the fridge with bottled drinks, including
    water. While there, he took an inventory of staples. A
    half dozen eggs. A pound of bacon. English muffins.
    Coffee. Cream? No. He hoped she drank her coffee
    black. Orange juice? Yes. A six-ounce can of concentrate
    in the freezer.
    He rarely ate breakfast unless it was a business
    meeting. But in the country, where the