Scandal. Julie Kistler
she mumbled.
He didn’t move. She knew his name.
After propping herself up on one elbow, she opened her eyes wide and shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the cobwebs. Then she looked at him again, and smiled.
“Nick,” she said, but this time it came out stronger and more sure, and she gazed at him with this dreamy, adoring gaze that shook him down to his boots.
Who was she? Why was she licking her lips at him as if she were the cat and he were a bowl of cream?
Quickly, before he had time to react, she slipped onto his lap, framed his face with her hands, and kissed him like there was no tomorrow.
Right from the start her mouth was wide open, wet and demanding, as if she was very familiar with how to fan his fire. She nibbled him, tasted him, owned him, sending the message that she wanted him down to his soul. Now.
At first he was so shocked he didn’t do anything. But it didn’t take long to start giving as good as he got.
He might be a gentleman, but he was no saint. If she was hungry for it, so was he. After all, he was already half aroused from sliding his hands over her sweet curves.
It had been a damn long time since he’d had a woman this delectable, this bold in his lap. He liked his lovers hot and fast, and that was exactly what she offered.
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