Free The Seduction of Suzanne by Amelia Hart

after such a long time, yet so right to the very core of her woman’s body, awakening tremors that rippled through her, so her hands shook on the solid planes of his back. He pulled her even closer, so he was almost lifting her off the ground, only her toes still in contact with it.
    Even as he used his strength, his kiss was still soft, gentle. Nothing fearsome about this tender heat that warmed her though and through. No alarm bells, no pani c. Only a delicious ooze of pleasure, a languid liquid delight of hard man with sweet mouth poured into her.
    They shared breath, his chest rising and falling, she barely knowing how to breathe with her whole being focused on the intensity of sensation engulfing her.
    How long they stood there by the driveway, passionately kissing, she later had no idea. It was he who broke it off, moving his lips to her temple and pressing them there as they both stood holding on and panting, moulded together. 
    With a sudden jerk she pulled away. His arms dropped to his sides. She stared wordlessly at him, her heart still pounding tumultuously. Abruptly she turned and pulled her bike upright with trembling hands, swung it around and started down the drive, walking with quick, unsteady steps.
    “Suzanne?” he called after her.
    “That was a mistake,” she shot over her shoulder.
    “A mistake?” he said incredulously, and caught up with her in long strides, reaching out and stilling the bike between them so that she had to stop. He gazed straight at her with those fierce blue eyes, brows drawn a little together as if trying to read her. She looked back at him under her lashes, defiant. Scared by the chasm that had opened under her feet where she thought the ground was solid.
    “That was no mistake. Suzanne. Sweet, pure, delicious fire, yes. Hot enough to burn.” His eyes flicked to her mouth.
    Her lips fell open. She clenched her hand on the hard metal of the bike handle. 
    “I wasn’t thinking.”
    “Neither was I,” he said with a short laugh. “When something feels that good, who needs to think?”
    “I do!” she cried. “I don’t want this!”
    “Then why did you come today? Why do we feel so good together? Why,” he cupped her face gently with his strong fingers, “did you kiss me at all?”
    “I . . . don’t know,” she said miserably. “Like I said, it was a mistake.”
    “I don’t think it was. I think you’re trying to avoid the inevitable.”
    “This is not inevitable,” she hissed. She wrenched her bike from his loosened grip, took a several running steps and flung herself astride it. For a moment she thought she’d fall right back off again. Then she found her rhythm and began to cycle furiously away as if demons were chasing her.
    To her terrified heart, they were.
     
    Suzanne spent the rest of the day in her large vegetable garden, energetically pulling up weeds and cursing herself for being stupid enough to fall into a schoolgirl crush.
    A crush, dammit!
    So he was breathtakingly handsome. So he was tall and strong, and had a magnetic smile and oozed charisma. So he was charming and possessed an easy sense of humour.
    So what!
    He probably left a forlorn trail of infatuated women everywhere he went.
    He was also a man without a purpose in life, beyond enjoying himself. At any moment he could bundle up his surf board and leave the island. Besides that, a man with the appeal he had would no doubt have a long string of past relationships, and an equally long string of future ones.
    “I am not prepared,” she said vehemently, as she buried her trowel deeply in the rich, black soil, “to be just one more woman in his drifting life.” No matter how unbelievably good he tastes, she added silently, and then went back to cursing herself.
    That night, her pleasantly worn muscles should have sent her swiftly to sleep. Instead she tossed and turned, twisting the few bedclothes into knots. Finally she shoved them down to the end of the bed and lay spreadeagled,