Free Heatwave by Jamie Denton Page B

Drew from taking the next fatal step toward real danger. The blame lay at Emily’s feet. Never had he encountered such an exasperating, stubborn, sinfully sensual woman.
    His conscience told him no . Walk away now and keep going until he’d gained enough distance not to be able to stare into her big brown eyes or admire the way her backside curved or how her breasts pressed against her lemon-colored sleeveless sweater with each breath she drew into her lungs. Even the warning that he was about to complicate his life failed to provide him with the willpower to walk away and never look back.
    He slid his hands up her arms, over her exposed shoulders and the remaining distance to the nape of her slender neck. If she tasted anywhere near as sweet as she felt beneath his fingertips, he’d be a goner in no time flat.
    What was it about this particular woman, he wondered. Why, out of all the women he’d dated—and there’d been plenty—was she the one to stir his protective instincts, to make him forget his cardinal rule of absolutely no involvement? He intentionally kept his affairs entanglement-free because he never wanted tobe the cause of the kind of pain that accompanied emotional involvement.
    He had to be losing his mind. In his opinion, ever since Emily Dugan had fainted at his feet, the question of his sanity had been seriously up for debate. A synapse or two had to be misfiring. Personal involvement wasn’t his style. His relationships with women were always light and easy, absolutely no strings attached. With the exception of his family and Tilly, the avoidance of emotional entanglements was as second nature to him as breathing.
    For the life of him, he had no easy answers. All he knew was that if he didn’t taste her, his sanity would no longer be an issue.
    He lightly pressed his thumb against the pulse throbbing at her throat. The beat was steady, sure and a hundred times less erratic than his own. He drew in a long, slow breath, taking in her fresh, clean scent, a lethal combination of tropical perfumed soap and soft femininity, capable of bringing him to his knees.
    Her eyes darkened, the color reminding him of thunderclouds at midnight. Wild. Untamable. A power he deeply respected. A hypnotic, sensual power she effortlessly and unconsciously wielded over him in ways he’d never imagined possible.
    He dipped his head, but stopped before his lips brushed against hers. There was no indecision on his part, nor, he suspected, on hers. Still, he hesitated, wanting to know with absolute certainty she would be a willing participant.
    Seconds ticked by with each heavy beat of his heart. Her warm breath caressed his lips.
    “This is a mistake,” she whispered as her hands landed on his chest.
    He waited for her to push him away. She didn’t.
    He shrugged carelessly, as if kissing her hadn’t suddenly become more important than drawing his next breath. “What’s life without a few mistakes along the way?”
    Her generous mouth curved and her soft laughter made him smile. “Pretty darned boring.”
    With her gaze locked on his, she leaned in, then traced the tip of her tongue in an erotic path along his bottom lip. Heat shot south faster than an accelerant-induced out-of-control fire.
    He gathered her in his arms and pulled her the remaining distance. His mouth captured hers, and he found heaven. Tongues tangled and mated insistently. Hands moved frantically, exploring with hurried impatience. Bodies heated to temperatures rivaling the week-long heatwave blanketing the city.
    Need clawed his gut. The touch of her skin beneath his hands drove him to distraction. The taste of her mouth, along with the erotic silken glide of her tongue against his, fed the powerful hunger inside him.
    His control took a dive. When she plastered her body against his, he hardly cared, and urged her even closer. The tips of her fingers moved enticingly over his arms, then before he could think, she urgently tugged his shirt from the