Innocent 'til Proven Otherwise. Amy Andrews
when they’d got rid of their other back seat passenger and had decided it wasn’t right to disturb her.
Besides she’d been warm and soft and smelled like woman and as agonising as it had been he’d forgotten how good it felt to have curves and perfume pressed against him.
‘Hey, sleepy head. This is my stop.’
‘Sorry.’ She smiled back but didn’t move. She couldn’t. She was utterly reluctant to leave this strange cocoon that balanced on a precipice between platonic and promise.
There was something about his smile. Ali had got the impression from the beginning that he didn’t smile much. Or certainly hadn’t had much reason to since his marriage had crashed and burned. And God knew she got that. The slightly wounded air about him had loaned him a tragic edge that had tugged at her heartstrings back in the bar.
But right now his smile was tugging in other places and she couldn’t deny they’d made a connection tonight, no matter how reluctantly.
Their proximity and the glow from the internal light gave her a close-up she hadn’t had as yet. She noticed for the first time his brown hair was lightly streaked with grey. It gave him a bucketload more virility and in that hazy half-world between sleep and arousal it seemed only natural to move her hand up to stroke his matching stubble.
And natural too, to follow with her mouth, pressing it briefly against his. And even though his lips didn’t react she felt the thunder in his chest beneath her hand and saw his pupils dilate.
Max shut his eyes and felt all his earlier resolve disappear. ‘Do you want to come up?’
Ali nodded.
Hell, yes!
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