Free Tycoon by Joanna Shupe Page A

“You are lovely. Like the most priceless piece of art I’ve ever seen.”
    â€œThen why have you barely touched me?”
    â€œI don’t want to scare you.”
    â€œYou’re scaring me by not touching me. I’m worried you’ve changed your mind.”
    He felt his brows shoot up. “Oh, sweet Clara. Nothing could be further from the truth.” Closing the distance between them, he kissed her and let her taste all the desire and longing inside him. She met him equally, her tongue seeking, twining, her lips melded perfectly with his. One thing he knew for certain: this woman kissed considerably well.
    The gentle swell of her breast filled his palm, the hard nipple demanding his attention. He rolled it with his fingers, teased the taut bud, and she gasped into his mouth. The sound shot straight through him, tightening his balls.
    He should stop, leave the car, and let them both come to their senses. That she allowed this—wanted this, even—seemed much too precious a gift for the likes of him, a man she’d never see again. But he was not strong enough to resist, not when he’d imagined this a hundred times since they boarded the train together.
    He dipped his head and used the flat of his tongue on her nipple, licking through the fabric of her chemise, soaking it. Then he sucked the luscious peak into the heat of his mouth, relishing the feel of her. Clara squeaked, a high, breathy sound of approval that urged him to increase the pressure and apply a scrape of his teeth.
    â€œOh, my heavens,” he heard her whisper just before he moved to shower the same attention on the other breast. She squirmed beneath him, her hips shifting, searching. The temptation to strip down and ease the craving roaring in his blood was almost more than he could bear.
    But he could not. He’d never forgive himself.
    With that thought, he slid his hand between her legs to cover her mound—only a thin layer of cotton separating them. The heat of her nearly singed his palm, the fabric between her legs damp from arousal. A shudder went through him.
    Trousers on, he reminded himself. Cock safely stowed.
    She did not freeze or try to get away; instead, she rocked into his palm to create friction. It was nothing short of astonishing. No fear. She was the bravest woman he’d ever met.
    His fingers dallied to find the slit in her drawers. Yes, there . Slick wetness met his fingertips and he grit his teeth, struggling to maintain control. Clara’s back arched, her lids falling shut. He rewarded her with a determined glide over the hard bud at the apex.
    She gasped, so he repeated the movement and watched her. Her red hair had spilled over the white linens, a halo of brilliance around a gorgeous face. He loved looking at her face. So expressive and lovely, it conveyed every thought she had—and what he read now was more .
    Unable to resist, he bent his head and resumed his attentions to her chemise-covered nipple. He did not need to strip her down to pleasure her. Indeed, he thought it prudent to keep her as clothed as possible. At least then he’d have a fighting chance of not taking her innocence.
    He continued to stroke her with his fingers, lave her with his tongue. Her hands latched on to his head and she dug her nails into his scalp. The cries falling from her lips grew in volume, her muscles stringing tight, and he increased his pace.
    â€œOh, God. Please, Ted, please .” A litany of words continued, all of them expressing wonder and desperation, and then she broke as a climax rushed over her. He didn’t let up, drawing out her pleasure, the swollen nub tightening and quivering on his fingers.
    When she shivered, he withdrew and—unable to resist—brought his fingers to his mouth, sucked them inside. The sweet tang of her hit his tongue and he had to fight the need to crawl between her thighs and bury himself in her tight sheath. Holy hell, she tasted