Free Emily Greenwood by A Little Night Mischief Page A

breeze coming in gently ruffled a curling strand of her hair, tossing it against her neck and cheek.
    “Yes, money,” he said. “It takes money to accomplish things.”
    She realized, after a moment, that neither one of them was speaking. His dark brown eyes were resting on her intently. He reached out and tucked the breeze-blown strand of hair behind her ear. She stilled, startled by his touch.
    “I can’t forget the beautiful young woman I met by the stream.”
    Her cheeks warmed at his words. She stood unmoving, listening to him, her eyes looking up at him under half-lowered lashes. What was he doing? What would he say?
    He brushed his thumb against the warm skin of her cheek, then let his hand fall. She had not moved. She could not. This was what it meant to be fascinated.
    He bent his head and took one of her hands. Holding it up, he turned it over and traced the palm with a fingertip. He rubbed his thumb lightly along the row of calluses that gardening and other labors had made on her palm, a part of her that she had not known until now was yearning for a gentle touch to unlock its hidden sensation.
    “A useful little hand.”
    He lifted her hand and dragged his lips along her palm toward her wrist. She caught her breath at the feel of him against her.
    Not just her cheeks but her lips were warm now. “You,” she said at last, almost just a breath. As if she were surprised to see him standing there.
    “I’ve wanted to do this from the first moment I met you,” he said huskily.
    James Collington bent his dark head toward her, his deep brown eyes holding hers. And then he was kissing her, his warm, moist lips against hers. His tongue stroked against her mouth, making prickles shoot along the back of her neck, and she opened to him. And loved it, the feel of his mouth on hers, and the sense she had through his sure movements of his leashed strength and firm body. A gathering rush of desire spread through her.
    He deepened the kiss, bringing his hands up to press along her exposed nape and hold her close for his lips even as she at first tentatively, then with more sureness, pressed her hands against his taut waist. How firm and alive the contours felt under her palms. She was amazed.
    His tongue gently explored inside her mouth, and she explored back. His lips traveled down along her neck, and the rasp of his late-afternoon bristles against the tender skin of her neck gave her thrills. She thought she would sink to the floor with the pleasure of it.
    He crushed her to him, her breasts pushing upward as they came against the hardness of his chest. With a shock she felt the evidence of his desire pressing into her inner thigh.
    The sensation of his hardness penetrated her haze of pleasure. She gasped and pushed against his waist. He dropped his hands and stepped away, looking at her, his breathing labored.
    “What,” she demanded raggedly through passion-tender lips, her senses still racing, “do you think you are doing?”
    He crossed his arms and looked at her with darkened eyes. He seemed dangerous now, haughty and dark with his foreign tan and hard male beauty. “Nothing we haven’t both wanted to do. And you were hardly a reluctant participant.”
    “Oh!” she burst out, turning her back on everything she had just experienced. She had to. She might have lost her mind for a few minutes, but she knew what was what. “You are the most arrogant man I have ever met! You think you can just waltz in anywhere and do whatever you want.”
    He raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Unrelated issues aside,” he drawled, “you can hardly deny that there is an attraction between us.”
    A gust of warm wind blew in through the open window at her back and bounced her hair against her cheeks, and she pushed it roughly away from her face. “There is no such thing as an unrelated issue in regard to you and your presence here, Mr . Collington. And—and I don’t call what just happened attraction. It can’t have been