Free Shameless by Rebecca J. Clark Page A

grin. “Yeah, I know. I’m such a tough guy now, eh? All that praying finally paid off.” At her questioning glance he explained, “My dad was a strict religious man who made me and my brother pray for an hour every night.”
    “An hour? I consider myself saintly if I remember to God Bless someone when they sneeze.”
    “We were supposed to recite psalms, but all I ever muttered in my head was, ‘Please, Lord, make me taller than my big brother so I can kick his ass.’”
    Sam grinned as she pictured a young John Everest kneeling stoically beside his bed, his face set and serious, the picture of piety. “So did you kick his ass?”
    “Nah. With my height came maturity, and it was enough for me to know I could kick his ass if I wanted.”
    “Real mature.”
    Sam’s curiosity was piqued by this startling peek into his past. When she’d first met him, she thought he had the depth of a piece of paper. Maybe she’d misjudged him. A little. Her hand rested on his shoulder and she raked her fingers slowly across the muscle. Definitely good genes. She tilted her head back and studied his face. His eyes were closed as they swayed to the music. He had good skin, hardly a laugh line even though he was 34 — another sign of good genes. And she loved his eyes. A blond-haired, blue-eyed baby would be cute. Or blond-haired and brown-eyed…
    John opened his eyes and found her staring at him. She immediately dropped her gaze, but not before he felt that familiar flex in his groin. Damn . He put a smidgen more space between their bodies.
    Why did she have to be Sammy Jo? She felt good in his arms, like her body was fit to his. The perfect match. Neither was looking for a serious relationship, no commitments. And from the way she dressed, she wasn’t afraid to flaunt her femininity and have a good time. Just the type of woman he liked to date. Why did she have to be Sammy Jo?
    He swung her slowly around the polished hardwood floor, swaying with the piano music, holding his breath every time her breasts touched his chest or their hips grazed. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. Especially knowing she wanted him, too. It was there in the way she’d looked him over tonight when she thought he wasn’t looking, and the way she’d studied him just now. It was in the way she’d had question after question about him during dinner, and how she’d hung on his every word. It was in the way her breath came out in a little gasp the first time their bodies touched when they danced, and the way her nipples hardened beneath her dress when his chest rubbed against hers, and the way she’d grazed her fingers along his shoulders. It was everything.
    This whole scenario took him back twenty odd years, when being around attractive girls was like being in a store full of breakables. “Look but don’t touch,” had been his mother’s rule.
    He’d never been good at following rules.
    Sam felt dizzy. She must have had too much champagne, but she’d only had one glass. Or was it two? She was counting them out in her mind, when she stumbled in her heels and fell against John. His arms tightened around her, giving her balance, and she felt the tell-tale sign of his desire pressed against her lower belly. His breath was warm on her neck, which meant his mouth was just millimeters away from her skin. She couldn’t help shivering. She leaned back and peered at his face.
    All her thoughts stilled as his mouth descended on hers. Had she ever bothered to contemplate his kiss before, she’d have predicted it to be as hard and unyielding as his body. But his lips were warm and enticing. Unexpected sensation raced through her. Only a moment ago, she’d fully intended to push him away, but now without warning, her insides turned to molten lava. She didn’t even like this man, yet the simple kiss made her head spin faster than the presses at the Statesman .
    His tongue slid along the seam of her lips. She wouldn’t open her mouth.