Free Don't Tempt Me by Barbara Delinsky

by yourself.”
    Her mouth opened in protest, then closed with protest unspoken. Time, life, the world—all seemed in suspension
as she assimilated the raw desire which filled Sloane’s dark gaze. Once again his hair was like a halo; once again Justine knew that his thoughts were far from angelic.
    The smoothness of his palm shaped her jaw, his fingers caressed the softness of her cheek. Her lips parted beneath the gentle nudging of his thumb, which circled them with infinite slowness and devastating effect. Her breath caught and held for one, everlasting moment of expectancy. Then, the telephone rang, shattering the mood with its shrill peal.
    â€œLet it ring,” he murmured quietly.
    Her eyes darted away from his. “I—I can’t …” With a move backward, she sidestepped his tall form and made for the kitchen, where the wall phone hung.
    â€œHello? … Yes, Martha … . No, that’s all right … . What? … Oh, no … . Why didn’t you wait until after you’d checked that out with me? … Of course, I understand … . No, it just makes things more difficult. After all, we’re trying to negotiate a settlement, not enforce one! … Look, Martha, since there’s nothing I can do tonight, why don’t we talk in the morning, after I’ve had a chance to speak to your husband’s attorney? … Fine … . Yes, I know, Martha … . Good-bye.”
    Replacing the receiver, she leaned forward, steadying her breathing, assuming herself to be unobserved. When Sloane’s lean figure entered her line of sight, she looked up, startled. “I—” she began, only to be cut off by the hands which took her shoulders and hauled her against him, by the lips which clamped down upon hers as though he were taking no further chance of interruption until this particular matter of business had been dealt with.
    The dealing was mind-boggling. His initial force gave way to a tenderness which commanded response from Justine as surely as if she had initiated the kiss. After a first moment of shock, she returned everything he gave, then reeled at the havoc of ecstasy his manliness inspired.

    Bursts of excitement rippled through her body when his hands began to wander with agonizing precision over every swell and hollow of her supple form. She clung to him, a castaway, struggling simply to keep her head above water.
    â€œGod, Justine,” he rasped when he released her mouth to kiss her eyes, her cheeks, the soft lobe of her ear.
    The thought of resistance was anathema to her, her vows of abstinence forgotten. In Sloane’s hands she was all woman. She’d never felt as sensually aroused in her entire life. The sensations were new and consuming, demanding more and more as they grew stronger.
    Beneath her fingers, his muscles tensed. His back was broad and strong, his waist lean in turn. The hardness of his body stirred greater potions through her veins, driving her to sure madness if the coiled tension within were not somehow released.
    Slowly Sloane pulled his head up and away, looking down at her, asking the question she asked herself, softly voicing it for eternity. “Justine, should I stay … ?”
    They had reached the fork in the road, a fork that she had sensed was inevitable from the start. Confusion whipped a ravaged path across her features, slowly, slowly yielding to denial. She’d lived her life based on solid conviction for so long. Now she couldn’t possibly ignore those beliefs for one brief brush with pleasure. Her eyes were sad as she shook her head. “Not tonight, Sloane. Not … tonight … .”
    To her total bewilderment a broad smile lit up Sloane’s face. “That’s good. Very good.”
    Justine regarded him as though he were deranged. Her nose wrinkled up as she questioned him. “What do you mean—‘that’s good’? Most men would be