The Millionaires' Club: David, Clint & Travis: Entangled with a Texan / Locked up with a Lawman / Remembering One Wild Night. Laura Wright
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back, David,” she whispered finally, certain he could hear her heart drumming.
“Why? A kiss is inevitable.”
“No, it’s not,” she argued while her pulse raced. “Not while I’m standing here in a towel.”
“We could remedy that,” he said, and she clutched the towel she had knotted around her.
He hadn’t moved and stood looking at her with that hot, hungry gaze that immobilized her. He leaned down, and his lips brushed hers so lightly, a feathery touch, yet it was a flame. “David, we shouldn’t…” she whispered, trying again to find some resistance to him.
“Why the hell not?” he asked. “Don’t tell me no when you want to. I can see desire in your brown eyes. Ah, Marissa,” he drawled softly, “we’ve been headed this way since I opened my door to you.”
I’ve been headed this way since I was eleven years old, she thought, unable to put up any more argument.
He leaned close again, his mouth settling on hers, and Marissa knew she was lost. And for a few minutes she didn’t care. Stop him in a while, she thought. But for now, she was going to satisfy a lifetime of curiosity about the man. How many times she had dreamed of this moment! How many times she had imagined his kiss, fantasized that he noticed her, wanted her. This was something she had wanted too long, too badly to say no to instantly. Enjoy the moment, she told herself, and then the thought dissolved, replaced by feeling.
David slipped his arm around Marissa’s waist, moving closer, his tongue touching her lips and then sliding into her mouth, stroking her tongue. She tasted sweet, hot, a golden torment, and a satisfaction that settled in his heart in a way he could never have imagined would be possible. She was a softness in his life that had been hard and harsh and on an edge. Yet here was sunlight, warmth, a woman to savor.
He tightened his arms, his kiss trying to devour his discovery, a blinding moment that transformed and shook him to the foundation of his being. Her softness was a promise of warmth that he had searched for as far back as memory stretched.
Marissa slid her hands across his sculpted chest, which was hard with muscles, coarse chest hair tickling her palms. Her hands went over his strong shoulders, feeling the slight ridge of scar tissue along his left shoulder, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her toes curled, her heart pounded and her willpower crumbled.
When she wound her arms around his neck, his arms tightened around her and his kiss deepened. She kissed him in return, the roaring of her pulse drowning out all sounds, fiery tingles spinning inside, her world and her senses turning upside down.
She stood on tiptoe, past fantasies firing her kiss. David’s kiss was all she had dreamed of and so much more! She had opened Pandora’s box today and trouble of every kind was cascading down on her, yet what delicious trouble for the moment!
Feeling his reaction to her body and her kiss, she trembled, clinging to him.
This was David Sorrenson kissing her. David—man of dreams, girlish and otherwise.
He raised his head slightly. “Marissa,” he whispered, and then he ducked down again, his mouth covering hers, his kiss as hot and passionate as the one before.
He bent over her, his fingers winding in her hair, his one arm still tightly banding her waist. She continued to return his kiss as need escalated, a sweet torment. She knew she should stop, yet she knew she couldn’t stop. She had waited a lifetime for this moment and it had been worth the wait. Dreams burst into spectacular life.
Never had a kiss been like this. Never before had a kiss made her tremble, turned her insides instantly to jelly.
He had brought her into a world of fireworks and thrills. She tangled her fingers in his thick, soft hair, felt the warm column of his neck. She wanted to run her fingers across his marvelous chest, to make him react to her the way she was reacting to him.
As she stood on tiptoe and held him, she kissed him back, putting all she could into her kiss. And then, as if coming out of a fog, she realized what she was doing. This was the rush to heartbreak, to falling for another man who didn’t take relationships seriously.
Clutching the towel around her, she pushed lightly against his chest, feeling his rock-hard muscles, wanting just the opposite of what she was doing.
Gazing intently at her, he backed away. The hunger in his green eyes made clear how much he wanted her, and his breathing was as ragged as hers. He ran his hand from her neck, down her back to her waist, and she was too aware that she wore only a bath towel.
“We have to stop now,” she whispered.
“Maybe,” he answered, stroking her cheek. He picked up tendrils of her hair and wound them in his fingers, and her scalp tingled from the faint touch. “It’s just kisses, Marissa,” he said. “It’s exciting to get to know each other.”
“It’s safer to avoid getting to know each other very well.”
“Safer?” His brows arched. “Don’t take life so seriously. You liked being kissed and I liked it. Deny that one.”
“I can’t. But I don’t want to get all involved,” she said, too aware she was standing arguing with him when she was almost naked.
“How about I promise that we won’t. Just kisses, some good companionship. Where’s the harm in that?”
“The harm is wanting more. Your kisses might be addictive.” She was becoming annoyed with him now. “You think there’s no danger of either of us getting hurt or falling in love or anything that complicates life?”
“Absolutely not. Remember, you want a saint. I’m no saint,” he answered lightly.
“Somehow that doesn’t reassure me.” She stepped back, sliding her hand down to his forearm. His hands dropped to her waist as they stood gazing at each other. “You’re so sure you won’t get hurt when I leave?”
“Past history tells me I’m sure,” he said, his expression becoming solemn. “The last years of my life, I’ve avoided commitment because of the dangers I’ve faced. I’ve done that until it’s a habit. I don’t want commitment. You don’t want commitment. So let’s relax and enjoy each other’s company and have a little pleasure in our lives.”
“David Sorrenson,” Marissa began, her temper spiking, “someday, whether you want to or not, you’re going to fall in love. You can’t always go through life starting relationships and then waltzing out of them. Sometime, somewhere, you’re going to get your heartstrings snagged and then you’ll see why I’m wary, why it hurts so much.”
He traced his fingers along the top edge of the towel, across the soft rise of her breasts, and she inhaled, gasping for air as if the walls were closing in on her. “You’re way too solemn. Lighten up,” he said quietly while his caresses were stirring her again and making her want to step right back into his arms.
She ran her fingers lightly over the jagged scar on his left shoulder. “How’d you get this?”
When his expression changed, she knew he had just shut part of himself off from her. “In the military. I was shot,” he said brusquely.
She inhaled sharply, realizing how tough he could be and what risks he had probably taken. His terse answer led her to believe he didn’t want to talk about what had caused his wound. It had broken through the spell he had wrapped around her in the past few minutes.
“I have to get dressed,” she declared. “You need to go.”
“Ah, give me one more minute,” he said softly, and she knew he was going blithely on with his intentions just as he had the morning when he had hired her on the spot and gotten everything he wanted.
Slipping his arm around her waist again, he lifted her curtain of long hair and moved it to one side. When he trailed kisses across her nape, she closed her eyes. Her breasts tingled, an ache deep inside her increased, and she had a fiery