Free Girl Behind the Scandalous Reputation by Michelle Conder

the pressure of his mouth. A voice in his head was telling him to stop. That now he was behavinglike a jerk. That he hated this woman whose mouth felt like hot velvet under his.
    She represented everything wrong with mankind. She took drugs, she partied hard, she was self-centered, self-absorbed—like his mother. Just when he might have had a chance of pulling away her fingernails curled into his shoulders, no longer pushing him away but drawing him closer, and he was lost.
    He eased the hand in her hair and pressed his other one to her lower back, to bring her into firmer contact with his body, and delighted in her responsive quiver.
    Right now he didn’t give a damn about parties and drugs. Right now he was satisfying an urge that had started six years ago and got a whole lot worse today. He felt a groan rise up from his chest as her lips moved almost shyly beneath his. He wanted her. Hell, his body was aching with it. And he knew by the way her fingers clutched at his shirt that she felt the feral chemistry between them as intensely as he did.
    He softened his lips even more and felt hers cling.
    ‘Open your mouth, Honey,’ he urged. ‘I need to taste you.’
    She obeyed instantly, and his tongue slid home and drank from her as if she was the finest wine. Only she tasted better. Sweeter than he remembered. He nearly expired at the shocking pleasure that jack-knifed through his body. She was like ambrosia to his senses, and he was once again reminded how men could start wars over a woman. And then he lost the ability to think at all as her tongue snuck into his mouth and she raised herself onto her toes to deepen the contact between them.
    It was all the encouragement Tristan needed, and he widened his stance to take more of her weight, burning up when she rubbed her full breasts against his chest. Her soft, breathy whimpers incited him never to stop this crazy dance. His hands were unsteady as they skimmed down her torso, skating over her breasts and pulling her restless hips more firmly against his almost painful arousal.
    She gasped and pressed even closer, buried her hands in his over-long hair.
    Tristan couldn’t contain another groan, and his hands rose up to push her cumbersome cardigan aside so that he could palm her breasts with both hands. She arched into him and his thumbs flicked over her peaked nipples. His senses revelled in her soft cries of pleasure. His lips drifted down over her neck as he dragged oxygen into his starved lungs, and he slid one hand down to delve underneath the elastic waistband of her tight leggings to cup her bottom. Her skin felt gloriously smooth and hot, and there was no thought of stopping now. He’d wanted this for too long, and he knew when he touched between her legs she’d be wet and wanting…
    The strident buzz of his intercom resounded through the room like a death knell, and Tristan sprang back from Lily as if he’d been kicked.
    ‘Tristan, I know you said no interruptions, but Jordana is on line one and threatening legal action if you don’t take her call.’ His secretary’s humorous voice rang out clear, despite the blood roaring in his ears.
    Hell. Everyone was a comedian all of a sudden.
    ‘Tristan?’
    ‘Fine,’ he snapped. ‘Tell her I’ll be a minute.’
    He watched Lily blink a couple of times, her hands on her heaving chest, her eyes hidden as she contemplated the foot of black carpet between them as if it was a seething pit of snakes. Her lips were deeply pink and swollen from his kisses.
    He shook his head at his own stupidity.
    He wasn’t some hotheaded youth at the mercy of his untried hormones. What had he been thinking?
    He noted the rise of hot colour that started at her neck and swept into her face. He didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or desire.
    ‘Hell,’ he seethed, stalking back round to his side of the desk, raking his fingers through his hair. He willed his body to calm down. ‘We are
not
going to do this. You are
not
going