Free Damned If You Don't by Linda J. Parisi Page B

wouldn’t leave. Did she dare? Not one scruple stopped her from taking his hand and placing it squarely on top of her breast.
    He bent his head down and lowered his mouth to hers again and all sane thought ceased. He pumped his hips, just as a reminder, and flames shot through her core. He’d wanted this to be his show, so Morgan let him drive. He reached under her shirt to play with her breast as requested. The next thing she knew he decided her shirt had to go and she found her buttons had been unbuttoned and his fingers were pulling on her nipples inside her bra.
    She gasped, unconsciously riding him. “Fly with me,” he whispered.
    But before she could, his lips locked on hers again. His tongue tasted everywhere inside her mouth. Hers entwined with his as pure heat filled her body.
    This getting dressed, getting undressed, business would have to go. He flipped over onto his back. “The jeans,” he choked out as he bit and sucked his way down her neck.
    Morgan scooted to the side a little and unsnapped them. He let out a heartfelt sigh of relief when the denim folds parted. She rubbed her hand up and down the hard length of him through his boxers and he shook his head. Her turn to grin.
    He fell back against the bed. There couldn’t possibly be anything remotely sexy about trying to help a man struggle out of tight jeans when he had a hard-on, but his eyes glittered as if she were the sexiest, most beautiful creature on earth.
    Morgan stopped, aware, perhaps for the first time in her life, of being a woman with innate power. She’d always wondered why they called it a battle of the sexes, finding now that lovemaking could distill down to one-upmanship. But then she realized, as he watched her remove her clothes and his gaze darkened and filled with raw desire, that she was wrong. The give and take between a man and a woman was exactly that. And without balance, it meant nothing. She knew what she had to do.
    She straddled his legs again, lying down on top of as much of his body as she could. “You want me.” She exhaled in awe.
    “So bad, I think I might die in a second. If we don’t— You know—”
    She slid back and pulled his boxers down to his thighs. As much as she wanted to inhale him right then and there, she knew better. She rose onto her knees and inched her way back up to his chest so he could feast on her breasts.
    He would never know how good that felt.
    Then she slid back a little so that the tip of his erection grazed the outer edges of her core. He swallowed. Hard. Sweat beaded his brow. “Umm. I thought this was going to be my show.”
    “It was. It still is.” She grazed his tip again.
    “You need to get off a minute,” he choked. “In my back pocket—”
    She slid back a little farther and smiled. “Not just yet.”
    He gasped and closed his eyes. “It’ll help if you think of complex chemical equations the way I am,” she added.
    He burst out laughing. “Wouldn’t know one of those if they bit me in the ass.”
    She shifted her hips, licked her lips, and lifted a brow. “Well?”
    They both knew he was unprotected. After a moment of shocked silence he replied, “You sure?”
    She slid back even farther and rotated, making his erection strain even harder toward her core. Yet Morgan refused the prize. “What do you think?”
    “Oh God, Morgan,” he cried. “You know, a man in this position might say anything to get what he wanted.”
    “That’s the point.”
    “I’m clean; I’m clean,” he told her.
    “Are you?” she asked as she lifted off the bed and walked away to go into the bathroom. The door slammed, and then the lock clicked.

Chapter Nine
    Jack waited for her to come back. And waited. And waited. Until he figured out she wasn’t coming back. And that was when he realized how much he’d hurt her. Trust was a terrible thing to kill, so she’d gotten even with him. Inside her there wasn’t just a door that needed to be opened. There was a castle wall that