Free The Man to Be Reckoned With by Tara Pammi Page A

he’d let her be a part of this, and some unknown sensation she couldn’t stem welled up inside her. And beneath it, Riya felt a sliver of fear that she was crossing into unknown territory. “Nathan, I’m very sorry for everything that...for all the hurt we caused you. I can’t imagine what you must have felt learning about Jackie and me so soon after she died. I’m so—”
    His arm around behind her, he turned, and his finger landed on her mouth. “I don’t require an apology from you.”
    Raising her gaze to his, Riya forced herself to focus on his words rather than the sensation of how her own mouth felt. “Is Maria right? All these years, would you have come back if Jackie and I had been gone?”
    â€œNo, I wouldn’t have. Leave the past where it is, Riya. Come out of your cocoon, and live your life, butterfly.”
    The warmth in his endearment caused minute little flutters all over her.
    â€œJust because I don’t stand hundreds of feet in the sky and touch the clouds on a regular basis doesn’t mean I’m not living,” she countered.
    His long fingers landed on her jaw, the abraded tips pressing into her skin. Their legs tangled in front of them. He shifted sideways until he was all she saw. Found herself staring into languid pools of molten hunger.
    Desire punched through her, every inch of her thrumming with alarm and anticipation.
    They were hanging in the sky with a slice of paradise laid out beneath them for as far as she could see. And the man in front of her, the most gorgeous, the most complex man she had ever met. In that moment, something she had held tight inside her, something she hadn’t even realized existed, slowly unraveled.
    Just a little movement of his head and suddenly his breath feathered over her nose.
    Her fingers landed on his chest, to push him back. But the thudding roar of his heart beneath muted any rational thought. A slow fire swirled low in her belly, spreading to every inch of her.
    One long finger traced her jawline in reverence, the tips of the others grazing her neck. “I think it’s the most terrible thing in the world that you don’t know whether you enjoyed a kiss or not, butterfly. The most horrible thing that no man has shown you, without doubt.”
    Liquid desire darkened the ice blue into the shade of a cloudy sky.
    Every other thought faded from her mind except this man, every other sound faded except the loud peal of her own pulse. Every other sensation fled except for the insistent and answering thrum of her skin at the hunger in his eyes.
    The brush of his lips against hers was at once cool and hot, testing and assured, bold and yet inviting. His beard rasped against her tender skin, wreaking havoc on her. The contrast of his soft lips and the roughness of his beard...her entire world came crashing around her.
    It was her own response to the press of his soft mouth that blew her apart, the strength of the deep longing that jolted to life inside her. Her fingers crinkled against his shirt as he increased the pressure and the back of her head hit the leather.
    Heat, unlike any she had ever known, slithered and pooled in every molten muscle as he licked her lower lip. His body teased against her own, a soft invitation to press herself against the hardness.
    She purred, like a stroked cat, and gasped at the curl of pleasure and instantly, he pushed on. Only when it vibrated through her did she realize that it was a groan that fell from her mouth. Pleading for more, demanding more.
    And it wasn’t just their mouths that were touching anymore. His fingers inched into her hair and held her slanted for him; his lean body enveloped her; he was everywhere.
    He felt alien, yet familiar. Her thighs trembled, locked against the tensile strength of his; her belly dipped and she groaned.
    The tenor of the kiss went from slow, soft appraisal, a testing of fit and sensation to pure, exploding,