Free Reckless Hearts by Melody Grace Page B

silence.
    “Not
with me,” Will says softly, lifting my hand to his lips. He
brushes a soft kiss over the back of my knuckles, keeping his steady
gaze fixed on mine. He turns my hand over, kissing my palm this time,
a slow whisper of contact that sends shivers racing through my entire
body. I can’t look away. He kisses my wrist, the hollow of my
elbow, all the way up to my bare shoulder, leaning close, pressing me
back against the wall with a look of such intensity in his eyes, it
takes my breath away.
    Heat
floods through me. Will bends his head, continuing his slow,
devastating trail of kisses along my collarbone, and up the sensitive
curve of my neck.
    Oh  . . . 
    His
fingertips caress my other arm, then tilt my chin to the side as he
dips and kisses my throat, all the way up to the corner of my mouth.
I turn, eager to capture his mouth with mine, but Will just moves to
the other side of my neck, his mouth roving, hot and growing in
hunger.
    God,
it feels so good.
    My
senses are alight, every soft touch swooping through my body in a
wave of heat and pulsing desire. My thighs clench, just the whisper
of his fingertips and teasing mouth enough to make me ache for him.
    All
of him.
    I
reach to pull him in closer, but Will takes my hands and slowly pins
them up against the wall by my head, watching me with that unreadable
hazel stare. My pulse kicks at the dominant gesture of his firm grip;
my body arches towards him in anticipation, but Will just smiles.
    “You
don’t know me yet,” he says softly. “But I’m
a man of my word. So as much as I want to fuck you the way you
deserve to be fucked, I’m going to keep my promises. At least
for tonight.”
    His
dirty words send a shudder through me. Will sees, and his lips curl
in a triumphant smile. He leans in closer, until his lips brush my
ear. “I don’t know why you’ve got those walls built
so high,” he murmurs in my ear, still pinning me in place. “But
sooner or later, you’re going to realize I’m not like the
other guys. I don’t play games, I don’t run scared
because a woman wants to call the shots. I can give you everything
you need. Everything ,”
he says, his eyes flashing with sensual promise.
    “So
you just take your time,” Will says, sliding his thumb over my
damp, open lips. “And when you’re ready for a real man to
show you what it feels like, you just let me know.”
    He
releases my wrists, and then he’s gone: sauntering away into
the darkness, leaving me weak-kneed and dizzy in my doorway—and
so turned on, I could melt into a pool of pure desire.
    And
he didn’t even kiss me goodnight.

 

Eight.
     
    Will’s
parting words sound awfully like a challenge—the kind I’m
usually only too happy to take. Any other man, and I would be
plotting ways to seduce him by now, to cut right to the end of the
chase and get to the part that has us in bed, driving each other
wild.
    But
he said it himself, Will’s not playing games.
    I
throw myself into work for the next week to distract myself, showing
houses and drumming up new listings, but still, his steady stare
finds a way to infiltrate all my quiet moments, making my heart beat
faster at the memory of his wicked promise, and my body ache,
reliving every soft, devastating touch. It’s tantalizing—and
still so far out of reach. I’ve had just enough of him to know
he can make good on his word, but not enough to even be close to
satisfied. Damn it, this man knows exactly what he’s doing, and
for some reason, he’s set on driving me crazy.
    It’s
working.
    I
vow to put him out of my mind, but instead, I find myself watching
out for him all over town. At the rate I’ve been running into
him, I half-expect to see him around every corner, but instead, it’s
like he’s disappeared. No calls, no texts, no running into him
at the market over a stand of fresh peach jam; I should be relieved,
but instead, it’s like an itch I just can’t scratch. Too
many nights I’ve fantasized