Tempted. Janelle Denison
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excitement that flowed hot and molten through Marc’s veins, as well, spiraling straight toward his groin. His erection strained against thermal and denim, full and hot and heavy.
No doubt, she felt his desire and hunger for her. She swallowed convulsively. “You’re my brother-in-law,” she attempted.
“Ex,” he breathed, dipping his head near her ear, squashing her paltry argument. Before she could issue a more obvious objection, that he was a Jamison, he distracted her by sliding his lips against the silken skin of her neck. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since that kiss.”
A tiny moan caught in her throat, and she gripped the edge of the table with her fingers, seemingly trying desperately to resist him. “Me, either,” she admitted, sounding miserable.
He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, curling his fingers just beneath the French braid she’d twisted her hair into. He touched his lips to her jaw, dragged them to the corner of her mouth, which was parted and trembling. He lifted his head, just enough to look into her soft blue eyes, brimming with anticipation, despite her protests.
That was the only assurance he needed to take this encounter to the next level. “You’re curious,” he murmured huskily, “I’m tempted, we both want it, so let’s try another kiss and see what’s really there.”
She shuddered, resisting, her body stiff with tension. He waited for her to give him the permission he sought, because this time he wasn’t about to take something she wasn’t willing to give.
This time, he wanted no regrets, no excuses.
Through half-mast lashes, he watched her struggle with her conscience, and prepared to let her and this fleeting moment go—probably the smartest thing for him to do.
He started to step back, but she suddenly reached out and gripped his flannel shirt in her hands, pulling him back—close. Determination fired her blue eyes, and she drew a deep, fortifying breath.
“Just do it,” she ordered.
3
MARC BLINKED, surprise registering in his gaze at Brooke’s ardent demand. “Excuse me?”
Brooke dampened her bottom lip with her tongue. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest, and her entire body was charged with a nervousness she couldn’t deny. “Just do it!” Before I change my mind, she thought desperately.
He tilted his head, a curious smile canting the corner of that sensual mouth she knew was capable of giving her great pleasure. “Demanding thing, aren’t you?” he murmured.
He had no idea. Right now, she didn’t want to think about what she was about to do, or her reckless, irresponsible behavior, or the excitement spiraling low in her belly. She had a point to demonstrate, to him and herself…that she could just do it.
Forcing herself to be the aggressor, she released her grip on his flannel shirt and slid her palm around to the nape of his neck. Her fingers glided through the silky length of his black-as-midnight hair. The strands were cool, contrasting with the fevered heat radiating from his body and the smoldering intensity darkening his eyes.
She shivered, and before she came to her senses, she pulled his mouth toward hers. His head dipped willingly, without hesitation, and his soft, warm lips settled over hers with a gentleness that threw her plan for a mindless seduction off-kilter. She’d wanted, expected, fast, wild and unemotional. He gave her slow, lazy and tantalizing, catering to her doubts and uncertainties…and the tension thrumming through her.
His large hands stroked down her back, encouraging her closer, making her spine arch until her breasts brushed his wide, hard chest. The delicious friction caused her nipples to tighten and ache. He gripped her hips and slowly pulled her bottom to the very edge of the table, spreading her legs wider and pressing against her until the only thing separating them was heavy denim and cotton leggings.
He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbled on the soft flesh with his teeth, and a moan slipped past her throat before she could catch it. Her mind spun, and her thighs clenched against his lean hips.
“You need to relax,” he murmured against her mouth. She felt her lips gradually soften and part for him. “Yeah, that’s it,” he said, then exerted a more provocative pressure with his mouth. “Now give me your tongue…”
Shivering at the husky, rich tone of his voice, she did as he ordered. Completely meshing their lips, she slid her tongue into his mouth and instantly tangled with his, silky slow and lush with promise. The flavor of hot male and honey glaze from the doughnut he’d eaten overwhelmed her, excited her, and made her melt and relax against him.
Three months ago the kiss they’d shared had been a thrill ride neither one of them had expected, giving them little time to explore and enjoy taste and textures. This time, he was entirely too thorough, incredibly indulgent, and generous in catering to her pleasure.
This languorous kiss, as titillating as it was, suddenly wasn’t enough. The need to be a little bit wild and a whole lot uninhibited swept through her. Framing his jaw in her hands, she opened her mouth wider beneath his and took control before she came to her reliable, responsible senses. The pace of their kiss immediately quickened, grew wetter and deeper and shockingly suggestive as their tongues entwined and stroked and mated.
Amazed that she could feel so physically needy, so intensely aroused so quickly, she gave into the sensations lapping at her feminine nerves, screaming for a more sexually charged contact. Locking her calves at the back of Marc’s muscular thighs, she pulled him even closer, welcoming the heat and pressure of him against her newly aroused, swollen flesh.
Marc groaned deep in his throat, the sound reverberating against her lips, her breasts, her belly, between her thighs. Unable to help herself, she tilted her hips and deliberately rubbed against the hard ridge straining the fly of his jeans. She rubbed sinuously again and gasped as he instinctively pushed back, a slow, purposeful stroke that seemed as intimate as him being inside her.
That shameless friction triggered a rush of dampness, a deep clenching of her body, and stole her breath. Their hot, openmouthed kiss turned ravenous and urgent, and he did it again, sliding rhythmically against her, as if he couldn’t help himself.
Desire rippled through her, coiling tight in her belly. An explosive, wondrous climax beckoned, and she whimpered, struggling between holding on and letting go of those restrictions and good-girl tendencies that had ruled her life for so many years.
And just like the first time they’d kissed, she came to her senses and panicked. Physically, he thrilled her, turning her on faster than any man ever had. But it was the complex emotions he evoked that threw off her balance.
The sound of the snowmobiles approaching the cabin escalated Brooke’s alarm. Wedging her hands between them, she pushed her palms against his shoulders frantically, and he immediately came to his senses and pulled away.
Stumbling back, Marc plopped down in the nearest chair, looking dazed and undeniably aroused. “Wow,” he murmured, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “That was incredible.”
Scrambling down from the table, Brooke pressed her palms to her flaming cheeks, unable to deny his claim. Her body buzzed with unfulfilled desire, throbbing for the climax that had been so, so close. She’d been so primed he could have taken her on the table—and how would she have explained her torrid embrace to her sister, who was only a room away? No doubt Jessica would call her a fool for getting involved with another Jamison, for allowing hormones to reduce her to a mass of nerves and sensations with only a need for ultimate satisfaction on her mind.
What made her believe she could indulge in a mind-blowing kiss with him and not want more?
She shook her head, afraid to think of what might happen with all that volatile passion if they ever made love. Not that she was contemplating getting naked with him! “Marc, we can’t do this.”
“I know,” he agreed, his voice tight and strained.