Free Who Do You Trust? by Melissa James Page B

until you fix up the Taggart place, of course. It’s unlivable as it is now.”
    Better and better…this couldn’t have been more perfect if he’d scripted it himself. Lissa had just said far more than her simple words. By letting him stay—by giving him her old room—she’d given him a message. She was willing to offer him a second chance to be trusted. She’d give his idea a twice-over before she threw him out.
    And maybe, just maybe, she wanted him to stay near her.
    “Thanks, Lissa.” He started to move past her, but paused to gently brush his mouth on her cheek.
    She almost stumbled back, as she had after he kissed her—no, mauled her— the kitchen. “Good old reliable me.” She flashed him a wobbly grin.
    He knew that look, that gorgeous, wonderful, green-light look of feminine desire and uncertainty; uncertain of what, he could also read in her eyes. Gently he lifted her chin. “You know, magazines and books say men find unpredictable women a real turn-on. Maybe I’m a freak of nature, but the woman who’s always turned me on is beautiful in her serenity. I like knowing she’s there when I need her. I love that she doesn’t put on an act to be interesting. She’s herself, and happy to be. She’s so naturally sexy I can hardly breathe when I’m around her.” He placed her hand over his thundering heart. “This is what reliable does to me, when you’re the one who’s reliable. Is that a good enough definition for you, Lissa?”
    She couldn’t look up, but her fiery cheeks and trembling lashes told him all he needed to know. “Mitch, I…I need time. I can’t believe what you’re saying—that you want me,” she whispered in an almost despairing tone.
    His heart soared, for the despair came from Lissa’s waging an inner battle against her demons. Within a day he was winning the fight for her body and heart against her old friends of pride and fear. “I’m not going anywhere.” Ever.
    “Thank you.” Suddenly she wrapped an arm around his neck, her gaze lifted, showing him the aching depths in her sweet gray eyes, her mouth parted, wet and glistening, matching his hunger with her own. “Mitch, I need time, not gentleness. I need to know this is real. ” She muttered, almost to herself, “I need to feel alive again….”
    He pulled her up hard against him and put them both out of their misery with another deep, hot kiss, all but exploding in the fire bursting to life between them. Hands and lips and tongues, meeting, mating, eagerly seeking more. Finding his sun-kissed wet skin, fresh and bare, she roamed with hands and mouth, making the softest of low purring growls in her throat with every touch, every taste of him. She kept pushing closer and closer, rubbing, touching, tasting, clearly reveling in his aroused state. He was too—in the tautness of her nipples, the way she caressed her most intimate self on him.
    Beautiful, so beautiful. Loving Lissa was hotter, sweeter, richer than any fantasy he’d ever had—it was like discovering rum-laced mocha chocolate after a lifetime of making do with cheap instant coffee. The warm silkiness of her skin…the fire in her touch, in her eyes, in her kiss. The luscious sexuality wrapping itself all around and between them like a living entity only added to the sweet splendor of being with her, touching her. Let this be the start of forever….
    “Mitch,” she mumbled through kisses on his shoulder. “Don’t sleep in the spare room. Make love to me tonight.”
    “Are you sure?” he murmured urgently, caressing one small, perfect breast—fulfilling a seventeen-year fantasy and more than halfway to exploding with the potency of one touch.
    Looking up at him, her lips swollen, her delicate body all flushed, she answered, “More than sure.” She glanced down to where his hand cradled her breast, and drew a ragged breath. “I need to know you don’t have hidden agendas. I don’t want to play Carol in any Brady Bunch fantasy. I have to