Free After Their Vows by Michelle Reid Page B

Hard-muscled biceps shone in the dimness, displaying a physical strength that echoed the power built into his chest. And his long fingers hovered a small centimetre away from her cheeks, teasing her with the threat of capturing her face, so the skin there prickled and tingled in readiness.
    And she was hot, feeling stifled by the duvet and by the heat coming from him. Eyes as black as jet held onto her defiant green ones, showing enough of a glitter to tell her he was not at all happy with the way this particular battle had taken shape. Now he was waiting for her to say something else foolish, so he could react.
    But what he really wanted her to do was to confess that she’d been lying.
    ‘You’re heavy,’ she told him.
    ‘You love to feel my weight bearing down on you,’ he came back, soft as air. ‘You like to feel overwhelmed by me so you can have an excuse to let go of everything. Did your other lovers not recognise this?’
    Angie moistened her lips, dried by his warm breath, and didn’t answer.
    ‘Frustrating for you, was it,
minha doce,
not having your special needs catered for?’ he goaded, shifting that oh-so sexy mouth even closer to hers. ‘In your desire to knock me off my pedestal were you driven to closing your eyes and opening your legs for these many new lovers?’
    ‘Don’t be so disgusting,’ she mumbled absently, engrossed in watching his lips move.
    That wide, passionate mouth stretched. ‘I could have you crawling all over me in seconds,’ Roque taunted. ‘Before you could draw in a single breath you would be making those soft, anxious whimpers of pleasure while you tasted me. Ice-cool Angie you were
not
in my bed,
querida.
You were a sexy, slinky, greedy little wanton with only one goal in mind: having me deep inside you and driving you out of your head.’
    Angie’s eyes were almost closed. She was trying so hard not to let his huskily delivered taunts spark a response from her. But her body was not playing. Her body was stirring up every sense she possessed.
    As if he knew it, Roque shifted on her slightly, and the tips of her breasts stung as they sprang into tight, tingling pinpricks of feeling against the tautly stretched duvet. Gently but surely he pressed his hips downwards, and the greater contact with her thighs made them start to pulse. And still his fingers continued to hover a hair’s breadth from her cheeks. Still his mouth maintained that tiny tantalising gap above hers.
    ‘Come on, Angie, say something,’ he encouraged. ‘Describe how these many lovers matched up to me.’
    Mutely, Angie shook her head.
    Roque sucked some air.
‘Were
there any other lovers?’
    ‘You deserve there to have been a thousand other lovers!’ she burst out, without knowing she was going to say it.
    And that was it—the moment she lost it. The anguished force of her response sent her lips brushing against his, and sparks flew as the volcano of feeling burning inside her just blew its top. She dragged an arm free of the duvet so she could punch him. Roquemuttered something as he ducked his head, then captured her mouth with a full-on, hot, driving kiss. With a whimper like those he had just described, Angie hit out at him again, and kept on hitting him—and kissed him back like a wild, reckless wanton.
    But she was sobbing while she kissed him. She was writhing and gasping and still hating him. He crushed her into the mattress and scorched her with the ferocity of his own burning passion, until her hands went from punching him to clutching at his hair instead, her hot angry tongue spearing urgently between his lips.
    Shattered by her own surrender, Angie found she could not contain what she’d let loose. It was as if twelve long months of grievous hurt just tumbled out of her. She felt wild with pleasure, and furiously angry at the same time. Hot, needle-sharp pricks of excitement set her fingers anxiously kneading his scalp. She could feel the heavy beat of his heart through the duvet