Free The Apartment by Debbie Macomber Page B

effort to still her actions. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
    â€œI do know,” she whispered, kissing him again, deeper than before, ending only when they were both panting and breathless with need.
    He made a low, rough sound in his throat and reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. Hilary thought she would die if he didn’t hurry. Even as he was working the fabric from her shoulders, she was spreading a series of frantic kisses over his face, encouraging him.
    She felt his hands fumble behind her and deftly unsnap her bra. He gently peeled it away from her shoulders and rolled sideways, taking her with him so they were both on the sofa, side by side, facing each other.
    His eyes held hers, but whatever answers he sought he must have found, because his hands cupped her bare breasts and he sighed when they peaked under his attention.
    Hilary made a soft, moaning sound that seemed to encourage him even more. His mouth, warm and wet, slid over her breast to take in the tightly puckered nipple. No man had ever touched her so intimately, and when his mouth sucked firmly, her entire body experienced the rush of wild sensation. She jerked slightly, closed her eyes and relished that she could give him something in return for all that he’d given her.
    It was so good, so wonderfully different than anything she’d ever experienced. She moaned again as pulses of pleasure pounded through her.
    â€œSean…oh, Sean, no one ever told me it would be this good.” Her hands were in his hair, and she was frantically moving against him. He caused an ache, a wonderful, pulsing ache to build within her, to mature to a crescendo until she was desperate to find its conclusion.
    At first Hilary couldn’t identify the sound, a pounding, beating rhythm that she found irritating. Sean moaned and stilled.
    â€œNo,” she pleaded, not wanting him to stop. Not yet, not so soon. She didn’t know what the noise was, but surely it would stop, surely it would go away.
    â€œHilary…dear God.” Sean expelled his breath forcefully. “It’s the phone.”
    â€œLet it ring.”
    â€œNo, answer it,” he said with a small groan.
    The sound pierced the quiet. “Whoever it is will call back,” she whispered.
    â€œPerhaps, but something tells me it’s your mother.”
    â€œMy mother,” she repeated slowly. The thought propelled her into action, and she scrambled off the sofa so quickly she nearly fell like a deadweight onto the floor. She would have if Sean hadn’t held on to her.
    The phone pealed again and she quickly righted herself, unable to understand her urgency. If it was her mother calling, Hilary wasn’t in any mood to speak to her.
    â€œHello,” she answered, sounding both breathless and guilty.
    â€œSean, please.”
    She held out the receiver to him. “The phone’s for you,” she said. His gaze narrowed as though he disbelieved her.
    While he was dealing with the call, Hilary readjusted her clothing, confident her cheeks were a bright, fire-engine red. She was so preoccupied, she didn’t hear anything of what Sean was saying.
    It took her a moment to realize that although he’d hung up the phone, he continued facing the wall.
    â€œSean?” she asked when he didn’t immediately turn to face her.
    â€œThat shouldn’t have happened,” he said gruffly. “None of it. We’re playing with fire—and one of us has got to keep our heads clear.”
    â€œBut…why?” Hilary wanted to know. It was hard not to slip her arms around him and bury herself in his warmth. It felt cold and lonely outside of his arms. When Sean held her, all her doubts disappeared, all her concerns vanished. Yes, there were differences between them. Major differences, but none so great that they couldn’t be resolved, if they were both willing to work at it.
    â€œI’m…in love