Forbidden Passion. Emilie Rose
scent of his cologne invaded her senses. A shiver of another kind worked over her. Appalled, she tried to pull free, but his arms held fast. His chest shuddered against hers, and a warm, wet trail burned down her neck. Sawyer’s tears.
Her throat clogged and her heart squeezed in sympathy. Sawyer had stood beside her through identifying Brett’s body and every step of the funeral arrangements. The fact that he’d hidden his grief and been strong for her up to this point made his loss of control more heart-wrenching. She focused on his pain rather than her own. It was safer that way, because hers was tied up with so many other emotions. Disappointment. Failure. Anger. Betrayal. Guilt.
“It’ll be okay.” She parroted the meaningless words she’d heard a dozen times in the past three days. “We’ll get through this, Sawyer, one day at a time.”
Wanting to offer him the comfort she sorely needed herself, she wrapped her arms around his middle, held him close and patted his back. She whispered soothing nonsense into his ear, but nothing she could say or do would change the past. She couldn’t bring Brett back.
Sawyer’s arms tightened around her and his chest pressed against her breasts in a warm, solid wall. He lowered his head and tucked his face into the side of her neck. His breath heated her skin. A spark flared in her midsection. She tried to ignore it, but it had been years since she’d been held tenderly, and she’d been frozen inside for so long by her husband’s callous treatment. It wasn’t Sawyer’s fault that her needy body misinterpreted his consoling gesture.
His breath shuddered in and out as if he struggled for control. He loosened his arms, straightened and drew back an inch. Swiping a hand over his face, he grimaced. “I’m sorry. I just needed a minute.”
“It’s okay.” Seeing this strong man break nearly undid her. She rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head unexpectedly. Their cheeks and noses brushed and her pulse skittered. Drawing a sharp breath, she eased back on her heels. The lapels of his suit coat scraped across the thin fabric of her snug dress, and the resulting tingle in her breasts and belly alarmed her. Shamed her. How could her body respond to Sawyer’s, but not to her own husband’s?
Brett’s last damning words, Frigid bitch, echoed in her ears. She hadn’t been frigid until he’d hurt her, selfishly taking what he wanted without concern for her pleasure. After that something had curled up inside her each time he’d touched her. She’d dreaded the intimate side of their marriage because it represented her failure as wife and a woman.
“I want to forget.” Sawyer’s anguished whisper shredded her heart and weakened the emotional dam she’d built around her fragile emotions.
“I know. Me, too.” She traced the deep groove grief had etched in his cheek with an unsteady hand. His afternoon beard stubble abraded her fingertips. The raspy sensation traveled up her arm like a mild electric current. She yanked her hand away and wiped her tingling palm against her hip.
Scant inches separated their lips, and their breaths mingled. The pain in Sawyer’s eyes slowly changed into surprise and then into something else—something that warmed her, scared her, made her heart race and her muscles tense, but she couldn’t look away. She wet her lips and searched in vain for the words to end this awkward, forbidden moment.
Sawyer’s dark lashes swept down to conceal his expression. Before she could step back, his hands cupped her elbows and his mouth crushed hers in a desperate kiss. Shock held her rigid, but what stunned her more than the unexpected kiss was her reaction to it. A heady rush of desire transported her back to the night of her last date with Sawyer when she’d thought he might be “the one.” Back to the time before her heart had been broken and Brett had come into her life, when she’d felt beautiful and desirable instead of ugly and unresponsive, and she’d still held hope for her future instead of despair.
Sawyer withdrew and their gazes locked for one paralyzing moment. He lifted an unsteady hand to gently stroke her face and cup her jaw in the warmth of his palm. His thumb skated over her damp bottom lip and her breath hitched. Moving slowly, as if giving her the option to object, he bent over her again, peppering kisses over her forehead and cheeks.
Stop this insanity, she thought. But her body had been numb for so long, and Sawyer’s touch awakened her as if he’d pushed the stone away from the entrance to the cave where her soul had been entombed for the past four years. Heat seeped through her, thawing the parts of her that her husband had numbed with his caustic comments.
Sawyer’s lips touched hers again, this time gentling and clinging before withdrawing a scant inch. His breath hissed in and out, once, twice, sweeping over her skin like a dense seductive fog, before he took her mouth hungrily.
Lynn’s blood swept through her veins like a hot desert wind, warming her, stirring her, and her lips parted in a stunned gasp. His tongue found hers. During her marriage she’d become accustomed to Brett’s gagging, conquering kisses, but she had no clue how to handle Sawyer’s gentle persuasion. Her skin grew damp and tingly instead of crawling with revulsion. She tentatively touched her tongue to the slick heat of his, and his grip on her arms tightened, though his embrace wasn’t painful. She wouldn’t bear bruises once this lunacy ended. And it should end. Now. But she didn’t have the will or the strength to break away.
His hands skimmed gently over the sides of her breasts and the curve of her waist before settling on her hips. Her senses rioted and her head spun.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against her lips, but even though his words urged her away, the hands splaying over her bottom pulled her closer.
The heat of his body permeated the fabric of her dress from her knees to her shoulders. His hard planes fused to her soft curves, and the thick ridge of his arousal pressed against her belly, shocking her. Arousing her. She couldn’t have pushed him away if her life depended on it, and without his supporting arms, her weak knees would have folded. Curling her fingers into the lapels of his jacket, she held fast and tipped her head back to gasp for air.
She barely had time to draw a breath before Sawyer devoured her mouth with an unleashed hunger that should have frightened her. Instead it made her yearn for more. His hands kindled a fire within her, stroking her waist and then the sensitive skin beneath her breasts. A moan bubbled in her throat when he gently cupped her flesh and teased her taut nipples with his thumbs. His thigh nudged hers apart as much as her snug dress would allow, and hard, hot muscle pressed against her core.
Her belly ached with need—a need she hadn’t felt in years. Her knees shook. What was she doing? Was she crazy? She couldn’t bring herself to answer the questions. Brushing aside his jacket, she flattened her hands over the thin cotton of his shirt. His heart pounded against her palm, and hers raced just as fast.
He shrugged out of his suit coat with abrupt, jerky movements, tossed it aside and reached for her again. His cobalt gaze locked with hers. She couldn’t look away. The fiery passion in his eyes made her tremble. Inside. Outside. All over.
His fingers tunneled through her upswept hair, sending pins pinging onto the marble floor seconds before the long, cool strands of her hair tumbled against her neck and shoulders. Sawyer took one audible breath and then another.
“Lynn.” His rough voice pleaded, but for what she didn’t know, and it didn’t matter because her voice—along with her sanity, evidently—had left her. She couldn’t think beyond the fact that Sawyer wanted her.
She touched a finger to the muscle ticking in his jaw. He angled his head, pressing his lips to her wrist, and then his lips parted and his tongue swirled an intoxicating pattern over her skin. Liquid fire surged through her.
His hands skated over her hips and then tunneled beneath the hem of her dress. Her breath lodged in her throat. His fingers burned against the back of her thighs and then through the thin silk of her panties. He kneaded her bottom once, twice. Cool air swept her thighs and then her buttocks as he hiked up her skirt and eased her panties down. His hot, long-fingered hands cupped and caressed bare skin with a gentleness that made her melt. Her entire body flushed and her head fell back. A hollow ache formed in her belly and a moan rose from her chest.