Free Sweet Southern Betrayal by Robin Covington

her loss.
    “Hey.” His hand slid across her skin until his palm cupped the back of her head, forcing her to look him in the eye. “It takes two to sign up for the ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ package and I can take care of it. It will be like it never happened.” His finger wrapped around a curl that had escaped from her ponytail during the run and the little tug he gave sent a shiver of pleasure along her skin. Teague leaned in closer, his breath a warm puff against the sensitive skin just in front of her ear. “Except for the memories of a night spent with a sexy redhead in a scary Elvis hotel.”
    Risa shifted where she leaned on the desk, her legs opening just enough to allow him to slide between them and get within firing range of shattering her resolve not to indulge in the man-sized indulgence known as Teague Elliott.
    “Too bad those memories are so fuzzy. I think we were probably fabulous,” she said.
    “Yeah, I think we were, too.” His lips curled into a self-confident smile. “Five condoms in one night says we were having a pretty good time to me.”
    “Yeah. Me too.”
    “This is a really bad idea,” he murmured, moving in even closer if that was possible.
    “I know.”
    He kissed her. She knew for a fact that she wasn’t the one to lean closer. She wasn’t the one to meld their bodies together from hip to chest to hot, searching mouths. And she wasn’t the one who slid his one hand higher into her hair and the other around her waist until it rested in just the right spot on her lower back to make her press even tighter into the deliciously hard bulge in the front of his running shorts. But she was the one who opened her lips and welcomed his tongue inside, moaning at the invasion and relishing the taste of him. And she was the one who pushed both hands under his T-shirt to trace the muscled expanse of his abdomen and upward to feel the soft texture of the hair of his chest.
    He pushed her fully onto the desk and braced himself against the bookcase with one hand. The position gave him total access and the perfect leverage to continue their frantic press toward the ultimate goal of giving themselves a current memory of how good it was between them. Fully clothed and within two feet of his perfectly adequate adolescent bed they rode the beast, humping like two horny teenagers and rocking the desk until they rattled the bookcase and sent books and framed photos raining down around them.
    “Jesus.” Teague curled himself around her and Risa huddled under his body, feeling the aftershocks of the impact of the items as they hit him on the way down to their final destination on the floor. When their passion-induced earthquake ended, he asked, “You okay?”
    Risa nodded as he stepped back, wincing when she spotted a red welt on his forehead where he was struck by some piece of flying memorabilia.
    “Are you okay?” she asked, reaching out to touch the spot. He flinched a little when she made contact. “It didn’t break the skin so I think you’ll live long enough to sit in the Oval Office.”
    “Good to know.” He leaned over and picked a book off the floor, hefting its weight in his hand. “I think this is the culprit.”
    She read the spine. “ The Iliad . In Latin. Sounds heavy.”
    “It felt like a brick when it hit my head,” Teague grumbled as he tossed the book onto the desk.
    The book might have hit Teague but it had knocked sense into her, and she knew that going there with him was a really bad idea. She had no right to have anything with this man. She’d betrayed him and tomorrow she was leaving and would never see him again. She backed up two steps. “I don’t think we should have apocalypse sex.”
    “Wait. What?” Teague rubbed his head just over the bump, totally confused. “What does our having sex have to do with the end of the world?”
    “We think having sex is a safe thing because I’m leaving tomorrow and we won’t ever see each other again.” Teague