Stranded For One Scandalous Week (Mills & Boon Modern) (Rebels, Brothers, Billionaires Book 1) Natalie Anderson (that summer book .txt) 📖

action of her own—the dance of her tongue against his, the slide she’d learned so quickly, tore at the last of his self-restraint. The way she wanted him destroyed him. This was a pure celebration of their physical selves—of desire and pleasure to be found with each other. But it wasn’t just that. The sudden tightness in his chest hurt.

He spun her to face the wall so he couldn’t see her expressive face, because he was so close to something else. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of that tiny scarlet thong and tugged it down. Seconds later he’d unhooked her bra and taken a moment to skim his palms across her tight-budded breasts before sliding his hands to settle heavy and hard on her hips, holding her where he needed her to be. This was sex. This was just another night. This meant nothing more. But then she braced her hands on the wall in front of her and pushed back, sliding her curvy derriere into him. Claiming her space. No longer hiding, no longer content to be invisible—not around him.

He could only take pleasure in her stance. Pressing her against the wall. And she was hot and wet, the silken pull of her muscles sending his into overdrive. He tensed at the base of his spine. His release so close. Too close. Too soon.

He fought to regain himself and slow it down. But her hair was loose and fragrant and her moans of delight, of demand, rang in his ears. He couldn’t resist pressing a kiss at the side of her neck and once there he was lost, tempted again by those sweet, small earlobes just made for him to nibble. She shuddered and cried out, her lithe body shaking. Passion and pleasure rushed over him at her response. His skin rippled as goose pimples lifted everywhere. He swiftly slipped his hand down to delve and delight her and heard her harsh, high-pitched cry of pleasure. He closed his eyes but the shock waves of her detonation went through him anyway and sucked the last of his control with it. He gripped her tightly and pumped hard, all control gone.

His heart slammed against his ribs. He didn’t want it to be over. He didn’t want this just to be...that. A night. A good time. A meaningless moment. Because that was the last thing this was for him. This felt like so much more and, even though he’d tried to deny it, he couldn’t any more. He tried again—slammed on the mental brakes, trying to stem the unfettered feelings flooding his body.

He wasn’t even undressed. His trousers were around his ankles as though he were some out-of-control teen. His shirt was stuck to his back, slick with sweat from the searing heat she’d roused in him. He’d ravished her. He could feel her legs trembling as she rested her forehead against her arms, taking support from the wall in front of her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he groaned. ‘Too fast.’

But she tilted her head back, resting against his shoulder and exposing the long, vulnerable column of her throat, and laughed. A brief, sexy chuckle that rang with pleasure and unvarnished, unashamed pride.

The jumble of concern in his head faded away. ‘You liked that?’

She chuckled again. ‘You seemed as if...’

‘As if?’ he said quietly. ‘As if I couldn’t stop myself? As if I couldn’t wait? As if I wanted nothing more than to be locked in here with you? Because that’s exactly what happened.’

At the dewy, deliciously dirty satisfaction in her eyes he was hard again. And, given the way she pressed her lithe, lissom body back against his, she knew exactly what she’d just done. She was the sweetest vixen. He’d forgotten that this was supposed to only be sex. He’d forgotten that it was ending. He’d forgotten that he couldn’t give her what she most needed.

All he wanted now was to make love to her for hours and hours.

CHAPTER TEN

MERLE SIPPED HER fresh-squeezed orange juice and wondered whether she should wake him. For the third time in the hour she opted not to. He needed the rest. And she needed more time to process. Last night had been...indescribable. No words could explain the sensations she was still floating upon. The intensity followed by such tenderness. He’d kissed her, kissed her, kissed her. Now she tried to stay in the present, tried not to panic about the fact the week was almost over and he’d be returning to Australia soon. She had to be grateful for the experience, right?

But she wanted more.

She wanted the man who’d come apart before her very eyes last night. She wanted more of that kick to the heart she’d felt when she’d seen his reaction to her scarlet jumpsuit. That thrill of pleasure. She wanted more of his attention, his wit, his warmth.

‘Merle? Why didn’t you wake me?’ He walked through the door already dressed in those dark denim jeans and tee that skimmed his muscular frame.

He looked as if he’d had a hard night—his hair rumpled, stubble on his jaw, the sight of which sent a tingle to her fingertips. She wanted to touch him all over again. She didn’t want the night to be over. Ever.

‘You were in a really deep sleep,’ she said huskily.

For a moment their gazes meshed. But his lips twisted and his lashes lowered. ‘Come on. We’d better get back. I’ve missed a bunch of messages from the pilot.’

‘Oh—’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said negligently. ‘He’ll be ready the minute we get there.’

She nodded. Things moved that way for Ash. Instantly and at his summons. Because he didn’t want to stay.

Her heart sank as she realised. He never stayed.

Ash strode across the tarmac, gritting his teeth to suppress another yawn. Strange, he’d never felt this exhausted. Maybe he was coming down with the flu? Maybe that would explain his behaviour last night. He’d never lost control like that. Never been so overcome by lust he’d barely paused long