Free A Bravo Homecoming by Christine Rimmer Page B

naturally, so simply. His lips pressed hers more firmly. And she let her mouth relax.
    And then she felt his tongue—who knew that would feel so good? But it did. It felt amazing, rough and wet and tender, teasing at her lower lip, slipping inside….
    More cars passed, close enough that the Cadillac rocked a bit. She hardly noticed. She did think, vaguely, that they should probably get going, that it wasn’t safe to be parked on the narrow shoulder of the road, kissing.
    And kissing some more.
    He caressed the back of her neck with his warm, slightly rough hand. And her skin seemed to tingle all over, as if his touch somehow set off a chain of happy fireworks under her skin. As if her body recognized these sensations he brought to life in her.
    Recognized them. And wanted more.
    Another shiver of pleasure went through her. She let out a low, excited sound.
    And he moved his hand to cradle her cheek. His tongue stroked hers. His finger grazed her earlobe. And then his thumb was there, too. He caught her earlobe, rubbed it gently. The small, circular strokes thrilled her. Combined with the way his tongue was moving, so wet and hot and intimate, claiming the secret inner flesh of her mouth…
    It was dizzying. Disorienting. Like looking down from an enormous height—say from the top of the derrick on the Deepwater Venture —looking down and considering letting go, sailing off into the sky, soaring over the blue sea so far below, forgetting that you didn’t have wings, that you couldn’t fly and the fall would kill you.
    And that was too much.
    A small, frantic sound escaped her. She slid her hands up between them, pressed at his shoulders.
    Instantly he released her.
    She opened her eyes, blinked at him, felt the world come bouncing back into focus again.
    “Had enough?” he asked gruffly. His lips were red from kissing her and his eyes…they were darker than ever. She saw the heat in them. And some confusion. And anger—that she had goaded him into the kiss? Probably.
    But why the confusion?
    She wanted to ask him, but somehow, right then, she didn’t dare. He seemed…almost a stranger to her at that moment. A stranger, and way too male.
    She knew her lips must be at least as red as his. And her heart was pounding harder than it should have been. That scary, disoriented feeling hadn’t completely faded.
    “Yeah,” she admitted. “I’ve had enough.” And then her pride kicked in. “For now.”
    He almost smiled. “You always were too honest for your own good.”
    A certain sadness came over her. Strange. Her emotions were all wonky. She’d gone from turned-on to scared to sad, all in the course of maybe sixty seconds.
    Gentling her voice, she reminded him, “You’re honest, too, Travis. At least most of the time. It’s one of the things I like best about you.”
    “So, then.” He retreated to his seat and snapped his seat belt back on. The key was still in the ignition. He gave it a turn. The Caddy’s engine purred to life. “You ready to go and tell lies to my mother?”
    She put on her own seat belt. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Chapter Six
     
    T en minutes after they left that spot on the side of the road, Travis turned the car onto a long private driveway fenced to either side. Horses grazed in the wide pastures beyond both fences.
    The driveway curved and revealed a sweeping turnaround in front of an imposing white house with thick pillars marching proudly along the facade. Wide steps led up between two central pillars to a long veranda. The front yard had been beautifully landscaped. Sam could see gardens in the side yards and even caught a glimpse of more gardens in the back.
    “Impressive,” she said.
    Travis sent her a look. “The house is modeled after the Governor’s Mansion. My grandpa James believed in living large.” He stopped the car near the front steps. A guy in jeans and a cowboy hat came jogging toward them along another driveway that led around to the side.
    Travis