Free Christmas Getaway by Tina Leonard and Marion Lennox Anne Stuart Page B

flow.
    â€œYou can guarantee that?”
    â€œI can’t guarantee anything.”
    She took a step closer. “Well, if I’m going to die, there’s just one thing I want to do before that happens.”
    â€œWhat?”
    She closed the gap between them, put her arms around his neck and yanked his head down to hers, none too gently. “This,” she said. And kissed him.
    It was crazy. It was dangerous. And he didn’t give a rat’s ass. He pulled her body tight to his, so that she could feel hiserection, and she tried to get even closer. In a matter of moments he had her down on the pile of blankets in front of the fire, in a matter of moments she’d stripped off his T-shirt and was reaching for the snap of his jeans. And then it was just a blur, of mouths and legs and hands and sweetness, and when he pushed inside her she was wet, and she arched beneath him as a climax swept through her, so fast and powerful that it almost brought him along with it. He pushed up on his arms, so he could look down at her while he thrust into her, and she looked so beautiful, so strong and passionate and fierce, and he wanted to keep on doing this forever, never stop.
    And then she opened her eyes and looked up into his, gray into blue, with heat and possession and total abandon, and it put him over the edge, and when he came she did, too.
    He wasn’t quite sure what happened next. He must have collapsed on top of her, but his brain didn’t return until he’d rolled off her, taking her with him, holding her against his body and flipping one of the blankets over them.
    He kissed the side of her neck, the still-racing pulse beneath her skin, breathing in the scent of her, rubbing his face against her tangled hair. He wanted to sink into her, dissolve in her, and he was out of his freaking mind.
    â€œThis is crazy,” she muttered, kissing his shoulder. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
    â€œNuts,” he agreed, turning his head to kiss her mouth, slowly, lingeringly. He was getting hard again, that fast, and he could blame it on the danger, blame it on the circumstances. But he knew the truth. It was her. This was a hell of a time to meet his soul mate.
    Unfortunately he hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud. “Soul mate?” She went suddenly very still.
    â€œDon’t worry about it. Probably just temporary insanity,”he said, not believing a word of it. “Danger’s always an aphrodisiac.”
    â€œNot to me.”
    â€œWell, then gratitude,” he said, frustrated.
    â€œThat was gratitude? It felt like something else.”
    â€œAnd what was that?”
    She hesitated, and he wondered what she’d been wanting to say. Whatever it was, she’d thought better of it, and she shrugged. “Pure, irrational lust,” she said, sitting up, pulling the blanket around her in an infuriating and ridiculous show of modesty. He wanted to yank it off her. He wanted to push her back on the makeshift bed of blankets and show her just how impure his lust was. And that it was a hell of a lot more.
    But right now the best thing he could do was shut the hell up. Maybe she’d be willing to listen later, once they were out of danger. He could even court her—bring her flowers, ask her on a date. If she said no, he could always kidnap her at gunpoint again.
    Hell, he was turning into a stalker. He rolled onto his back, closing his eyes and groaning.
    She was immediately on her knees beside him, the blanket still wrapped around her body, her clothes scattered on the floor. “Did you tear your stitches? Let me look…”
    His bullet wound was the least of his problems. “It’s fine,” he growled. “Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll pretend this never happened?”
    He didn’t catch her expression. “Fine,” she said briskly, rising again and scooping up her scattered clothes. He waited until