Free Of the Knowledge of Good and Evil by Micah Persell Page A

take her empty breakfast plate to the sink. Jericho stared at his own empty plate for a second before picking it up and following her lead.
    He wasn’t watching where he was going, but he heard when she stumbled and his head shot up just in time to watch her take a catching step forward while stifling a moan. Immediately, he knew it was the Impulse. They’d ignored it for as long as it would allow, and now it was demanding attention.
    The plate she was carrying clattered to the floor, and, working purely off instinct, Jericho tossed his to the counter just in time to catch her by the elbow as her knees failed her. Thought fled. His fingers dug into her soft skin as the overwhelming Knowledge that she was good rolled through him. And then the tingles, the uncomfortable aches he’d experienced since waking this morning, receded. It felt so good to touch her that he moved around to her front and gripped her other elbow. Her scent wafted up, and he felt himself sway toward her.
    “Are you all right?” he asked in a low, rumbling voice he barely recognized.
    “No,” she moaned, raising her eyes to meet his with an accusatory stare. “You touched me! Damn it, why did you have to touch me, you gigantic idiot?”
    They’d just argued over what Dahlia probably defined as a deal-breaker, and yet Jericho could feel the connection between them growing stronger with every second his hands were on her flesh. He couldn’t pull away from her if his life depended on it.
    Though her eyes still accused him, she was apparently feeling the same, because she leaned forward, the tips of her breasts brushing against his torso and then coming into full contact as she stepped into his body, fusing them from knee to where her head rested against his broad chest. A sigh left her body on a shudder and her arms came around him, her hands pressed splayed into his back.
    “I don’t want this,” she mumbled into the cotton of his t-shirt. “I despise you. You’re going to take me away from my son.”
    He could only make a sound of assent in the back of his throat as his arms came around her body of their own volition. He couldn’t deny what she was saying.
    “So, stop this,” she pleaded. Her arms tightened around him contrarily. “Step away from me and don’t ever touch me again.”
    He tried. Or, God help him, he at least thought about trying. His body wouldn’t obey. “I can’t,” he breathed. His breath ruffled her hair, and she raised her head to look at him, locking eyes with him and dooming them both.
    “Then kiss me,” she whispered.
    He was moving to obey in the next breath. Her eyes slid closed the closer his lips got to hers. When he brushed his mouth across hers, her lips parted and she sighed into his mouth. His arms cinched tighter, molding her body to his. He felt her hardened nipples through the thin cloth of her shirt. Felt them push into his ribs even farther as she moved her arms, winding them around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss.
    This time, when their lips met, she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and bit down on it. Hard.
    He knew she meant to punish him for the threat he was to her happiness, but it unleashed something in him he couldn’t control. An inhuman noise ripped from Jericho’s gut, and his hands descended on her ass, grabbing roughly and hauling her up. He forced her legs to wrap around his waist as he charged forward. His knees met the cabinets with a crash and his knuckles scraped across the corner of the countertop as Dalia’s ass landed on the pock-marked Formica.
    The pain shooting up and down his shins brought him back to reality. He wrenched his hands from underneath Dahlia and jerked back. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. Dear God, he’d been really rough. He could have hurt her. His stomach dropped. Maybe he had hurt her.
    Before he could step completely from the warm shelter of her thighs, Dahlia grabbed his shirt and hauled him back in with surprising strength.