Free Mine by Brenda Huber Page B

ones.”
    Sputtering, Alex struggled to sit upright. Cole took hold of her shoulder, gentle but firm, and pushed her back against the cushions, his other hand clamped on her knee allowing her no escape.
    She shot Cole a frustrated glare, before turning alarmed eyes to Styx. “This isn’t—”
    “A good time,” Cole broke in with smooth finesse. “Come back later…much later. And close the door behind you.”
    “Styx!” Alex pleaded, her voice laced with equal parts exasperation and desperation. But it was too late, he’d had already deserted her, ducking out with a sly wink, closing the door behind him. Abandoning her to her fate.
    Alex turned an indignant glare to Cole. “Why did you do that? Now he’s going to think…” She couldn’t even finish her statement. Embarrassed heat burned her cheeks.
    Cole shrugged. “Styx knows when to keep his 66
     
     
     
    mouth shut.”
    “There’s nothing to keep his mouth shut about,” she protested.
    The look he gave her declared otherwise, and he argued, “Then why are you getting so upset?” Alex scowled, subsiding back against the cushion with a harrumph. What was wrong with her? She was stronger than this. She did not want to crawl across this couch and taste those tempting lips. She was cool and professional.
    Detached. Aloof. Unfortunat ely, it was next thing to impossible to remain any
    of the aforementioned when such a blatantly sexual male caressed her bare legs with such masterful, enticing strokes.
    Her resolve softened with each gentle caress.
    He must have been able to read the vacillation in her eyes, because his hands moved with more purpose now. His fingers feathered over her skin.
    One taunting corner of his sensual lips curved up. He brushed the arch of her foot, and her leg jerked. An intrigued brow lifted and icy blue eyes narrowed on her, speculative and assessing.
    Without any further warning, he repeated the motion. A giggle slipped free before she could stop it.
    A sinful grin lit his face and he accused,
    “You’re ticklish.”
    “I am not,” she denied.
    He arched a brow and skimmed his fingers over her arch again. She gasped and jerked once more.
    “Okay, maybe a little,” she conceded with ill grace.
    Cole assessed her with shrewd eyes and then, without warning, his fingertips skimmed the inner curve of her knee. Alex’s eyes flared. She gasped and squirmed, wiggling farther onto his 67

     
    lap without meaning to. Her hand grasped his wrist, but when he refused to let her draw his hand away, she frantically pressed his palm against her thigh, just above the inside of her knee.
    Granting him a grudging, reluctant smile, she pleaded, “Stop!”
    She needn’t have spoken. The minute she pressed his hand flat against her inner thigh, he froze. His eyes were riveted to the place where their hands rested—right at the edge of the widened slit in her skirt. His smoldering gaze lifted to her eyes, half veiled by the thick sweep of his dark lashes, pinning her to the spot with heat and intent. A delicious little chill slipped through her, sparking a shockwave of violent fluttering deep in the pit of her stomach.
    Drawing a ragged breath, Alex tore her eyes away from his. The piano loomed before her, a cold reminder of her purpose here. Though her movements were sluggish and reluctant, she released his hand. Cole’s palm remained firm on her thigh. His thumb began tracing lazy circles on her sensitive skin, and the swarm of butterflies inside her stomach took flight once more.
    Dropping her gaze to his hand, she cleared her throat. The sound came out more as a nervous gesture, rather than the firm rebuke she’d meant it to be.
    Doing her best to ignore his provocative touch, she cleared her throat again, reminding him, “I thought you wanted to talk .”
    ****
     
    Cole was utterly lost. Warm wild honey tickled his nose. Her skin was exquisite beneath his fingers, pure ambrosia. Try as he might he just couldn’t stop touching her.