Free The Right Side of Mr Wrong by Jane Linfoot Page B

he stretched up, grasped her around the waist, then set her neatly on the ground. Wow!
    ‘Not far from home now. Mrs McCaul’s husband, Bob, can pick up the car later. We used to walk this way to the pub in the next village when I first came here. Back in the day, and all that.’ A distant expression clouded his face momentarily, but at least his tone had softened. ‘Come here, I can see I’m going to have to pull you the rest of the way back!’
    Before she could protest, his large hand had slipped around hers and tightened. Despite his heat, she shivered.
    ‘You’re cold!’
    Except that shiver had nothing to do with the cold. ‘Not too bad, my coat’s very … ’
    One more tug and he’d dragged her towards him. Another and he’d slammed her body up against his. The heady scent of hard, clean man engulfed her, whipping away her ability to think, and her will to protest.
    One strong hand gripped her back, one rough finger tilted her chin. His eyes, when she met them, were granite flecked, his voice husky, harsh, taunting.
    ‘This
is
what you’re here for, isn’t it?’
    She opened her mouth to contradict, but before she could speak his lips closed in on hers, sweeping away her words and her breath simultaneously.
    Hard and raw.
    His stubble stung her chin, he tugged on her hair, jolted her head back further as his tongue plundered her mouth, without remorse.
    Hot. Demanding.
    Irresistible.
    She sank against his hard body, hating herself for allowing this, despising the part of her that wanted it, as the bang of his heart reverberated against her breasts.
    More delicious than anything she could remember.
    As his hold tightened, his erection ground into her stomach, and turned her legs molten. His tongue tangled deeply with hers now, as she fought against a force field that threatened to turn her upside down and shake her. Then just as she was about to collapse, he pulled away. Sagging, she felt his thumb rasp across her throbbing lower lip, then he grasped her shoulders, and studied her with a derisory scowl. Watched dispassionately as she thrashed to get her breath back.
    He waited for her gasps to subside before he spoke.
    ‘We need to go and finish this … ’
    One gruff, non-negotiable order which set her pulse racing again.
    A second to take in the chill in his narrowed eyes, against the fading afternoon sky. The set of his jaw. Then he grabbed her wrist with a lurch, and set off towards the next hill.
    * * *
    Shea Summers. Professional, reliable, cool, detached, capable.
    Not.
    Twenty four hours away from home, and she’d already snogged the boss. Twice.
    Outrageous. Beyond redemption. If that wasn’t totally off the rails, she didn’t know what was. She was running now, her hand still in Brando’s iron grip, but he wasn’t hauling her any more. She was somehow floating effortlessly beside him.
    Thank liquorice there was no-one here to judge her, apart from herself. She’d gone downhill fast! Her housemates would’ve had a field-day if they’d known. In her head they were already crowding around her, each giving their own take on the situation, throwing in their warnings and suggestions. Being supportive. And she cringed to think what her parents might say. So many people, who’d put so much effort into to protecting her these last four years, and the moment she was away from them she’d totally lost it. Something so powerful here, it was even eclipsing her guilt pangs. She should be a lot more ashamed of herself than she was.
    ‘Not too far now … ’
    He shot her a half grin that made her legs wobble. Amazing that one man, who knew no more about her than that she couldn’t do geography and that she liked eating burgers, had unleashed this hormonal rush.
    He made her feel alive again. And maybe that sudden rush of vitality was why she was keeping the guilt at bay.
    Her feet were flying over the ground, her body burning with a radioactive glow.
    ‘That’s good … ’
    Brando