Rescuing His Heart(10)

By: Melanie Shawn


She gritted her teeth, hoping that if she held her jaw tight enough, it would give her the strength to make one last argument. “We don’t want people to get ideas.”

His eyes glinted. “What if those ideas are right?”

He closed the remaining distance between them and kissed her neck, the gentle touch of his lips spreading fire across her skin. What little resolve she had melted… alongside her panties.

As if of their own accord, her hands tangled in his hair, the soft-yet-strong feel of it so familiar it was like coming home. Gavin’s hair had always been like that. It was firm under her fingers but… damn…it felt nice to touch. Kind of like Gavin himself.

Even though she’d hooked up with Gavin a thousand times in the past, this felt different. This was more personal. This was more real.

She’d spent years of her life trying to tell herself that “personal and real” was the last thing she needed, but judging by the way her body reacted to that difference with Gavin, she’d been selling herself a line of bullshit without even realizing it.

“Oh, God, that feels good. So fucking good,” she moaned as he brushed his hand lightly up her thigh. He wasn’t even under her skirt yet, and he already had her moaning. That was real skill.

“Yeah. It does,” he said, turning her words around on her as he gave her thigh a squeeze. “It feels incredible.”

She couldn’t wait one minute longer to devour him. It was a unique Gavin ability—the way he could take her from neutral to burning alive with desire in zero point seven seconds.

She pulled his head back slightly from where he trailed his kisses and pressed her lips against his with a desperation and hunger that couldn’t be contained.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth and angled her body so that her breasts were pressed up against his muscled pecs. There was no getting close enough. She was ravenous.

The way she felt with Gavin on the couch at that moment put every other time they’d had together to shame, and they hadn’t even gotten their freaking clothes off yet.

What the hell is happening to me?

Before that thought could worm its way into her brain and make her overanalyze the situation, though, an answering sentiment chimed in her mind.

Who cares what the hell is happening to you, girl. Just enjoy the ride!

She surrendered fully to the experience. With a wicked little smile, she put her hands against his shoulders and pushed him against the couch, swinging a leg over his and straddling him.

His long, masculine fingers wrapped around nearly her entire waist. She loved how that made her feel like a small China doll in his powerful grip—delicate, beautiful, and taken care of.

She grabbed her blouse in her hands and whipped it over her head in one smooth movement. It seemed like she had no sooner grasped the hem than the piece of fabric was sailing across the room.

Gavin’s eyes widened at the sudden movement and darkened with hunger as they traveled over her creamy skin.

Her breasts were covered with nothing but a black, lacy bra. It was a small slip of lingerie, more for decoration than any kind of real function. Unless, of course, that function was to be sexy—if that was the case, then judging by Gavin’s expression, it was more than doing its job.

His hands tightened around her waist, the pressure that his fingers put on her lower back increasing to urge her forward. She planted her palms against the back of the couch for leverage and tilted her head so that her long, dark hair dangled over his face, encircling him in a silky curtain.

He moaned. She got wetter. Yeah, some things about the two of them might be slightly different, but there were clearly some things that were exactly the same and working like clockwork.





Chapter 7





Genevieve’s skirt rode up just far enough on her thighs that, when he dipped his head and looked down, he could see the dark triangle of her black panties. He could guess that they were lacy and barely-there, just like the bra she wore, and the thought made him hard as a rock.

Add that to the fact that he could feel the heat radiating from between her legs all the way through the thick denim of his jeans, and his cock may as well have been nothing but a giant mass of throbbing pressure.

He slid his hands up the warm, silky skin of her torso and used both of them to cup her face. He opened his mouth to speak but was struck for a moment by her sheer beauty—the way that her eyes were so wide and eager and full of life as she looked down at him.