Byrd's Desire Read Online Free PDF

Every inch of her body prickled and tingled as he kissed her with considerable skill.  His mouth caressed and claimed as she yielded, her body melting.  His kiss stole her breath and made her head whirl with dizziness.  The man became the one stable fixture in her environment which shrunk to the space around them.  Everything else blurred into insignificance as she surrendered to the moment.
    His tongue strayed into her mouth and he French -kissed her, long and hard.  Her twat moistened and her nipples hardened beneath the simple T-shirt she wore.  Desire poured through Celia and her fingers clutched his shoulders, then wandered to his chest.  She unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hand over the solid, taut flesh of his belly.  Celia caressed his nipples and thrilled when each shifted from soft to stone beneath her touch.  Without letting go, the man managed to thrust one hand down the back of her jeans and work his fingers until they stroked her pussy.   The intimacy of his actions, combined with the brash boldness of what he did, stoked her desire as sweet, intense ripples rocked her body.
    Celia would have laid down for him in the doorway, on the porch, or in the living room with careless, heedless abandon, but about the time she thought he’d take her, he withdrew.  He stepped inside as she stared, breathing hard.  “That,” he said in a voice so melodious, yet deep and so tempting she wanted to drown in it, “you can do that and more.”

Chapter Four
     
    Celia trembled and stared at him, her legs unsteady after his wild kiss.  Her heart pounded in her chest as if it’d been trapped there and needed to flee.  His words made no sense for a moment until she realized he’d answered her initial question.  She ought to be worried, outraged, or at least a little cautious after a stranger in the night kissed her the way no man ever had, but she wasn’t.  Instead, she smiled.   “I don’t know you are,” she said. “What’s your name?”
    He held his head up, straight and proud. “You can call me Byrd,” he said.  Before she could ask, he grinned. “That’s B-Y-R-D, by the way.”
    Although he still hadn’t revealed what brought him to her door, she stuck out her hand. “I’m Celia Lecompte, Mr. Byrd.  It’s, uh, a pleasure to meet you.” Her lips lingered over “pleasure” and the spark in his dark eyes told her he got the double entendre.
    “ Yes,” he replied. “It’s just Byrd, no Mister needed.” Dear Lord, I’d swoon like an old time Southern belle if he kept giving her that look—burning hot and chock full of passion . Celia focused on something practical to stay grounded, an effort certain to fail. “What brought you to the door tonight?”
    “I was passing over,” Byrd said.  Over? Celia cocked her head and frowned.  When he saw her expression, he changed what he’d said. “I was passing by,” he told her. “I’d…uh, heard you’d come and I wanted to meet you.”
    Something didn’t jibe.  Suspicion warred against her desire.  “Do you live somewhere around here?” she asked in a much sharper tone. “And who’d you hear about me from?”
    She could count the people who knew about her arrival on one hand with fingers remaining.  Angie and her husband, Chuck the ranch manager, maybe Nina, although she’d yet to meet her, and, stretching it, the clerk at the supermarket.  Four people and the first two were in Asia so they weren’t spreading the news.  Taciturn Chuck didn’t seem like the kind to gossip either.  Hmm.  Maybe the nice lady at the tourism center talked but Celia couldn’t remember telling her where she lived.   Byrd gazed at her with something like amusement.
    “I don’t live around here, no, but I travel through here often.  My home’s in the Black Hills.  And you’ve got me.  No one told me about you—I saw you down by the pond earlier.”
    Relief came sweet and swift, then faded. “How could you have seen me there?”