Stolen Seduction Read Online Free PDF Page B

hands along the silky smooth skin of her abdomen, up higher until his knuckles brushed her satiny bra. He groaned again, cupped the heavy
    mass in the palm of his hand and squeezed just enough to make her gasp.
    “I want you,” she whispered.
    Oh, man. He wanted her, too. More than even he’d realized until right now. Her words ignited a fire
    in his gut, turned his blood to a roar in his ears. He shifted her body and pushed her back against the
    wall while he continued to kiss her like a man starved.
    One hand slid to her leg at the knee, lifted so he could hook her inner thigh around his hip as he
    pressed himself between her legs. She gasped all over again, making him rub harder, pull back and
    press again. His lips found her throat and that soft, soft place just behind her ear. “Jesus, Hailey. You
    are so damn sweet. I want to taste every part of you. Here.” He drew her earlobe into his mouth.
    “Here.” He nipped her collarbone exposed by her V-neck sweater.
    “Oh…”
    She drew in a sharp breath that urged him on, so he pushed his hips into hers again, over and over,
    until he had to stop because he was on the verge of coming, just from that simple contact. He
    moved to sample her other collarbone.
    “Maxwell…oh, God, this is a bad idea.”
    “The worst.”
    She ran her fingers up to his hair. “But we’re going to do it anyway.”
    “Absolutely.”
    She pressed into him on a moan and kissed him harder. Did it again. And again. Until he was lightheaded from the contact. Her hands went up under his shirt, to the skin of his abdomen, around to
    his side, and brushed the scar on the right side of his ribs.
    He flinched. Reeled as her touch registered. Caught himself. Only for the split second her fingertips
    had feathered that scar, he wasn’t in his apartment. He was in a hole-in-the-wall, rat-infested slum
    with a knife sticking into his side and a smoking gun in his hand.
    The image was so real, he had to push back quickly to clear his head. His legs hit the arm of the sofa, crumpled and went out beneath him. And even in that instant of oh, shit, he tried like hell to
    make it look like he’d planned to take a load off, not that he’d fallen on his ass like a complete pansy.
    “Maxwell—”
    He held up a hand to stop her from touching him, took two deep breaths and ran a shaky hand over
    his face.
    Bad, bad, bad idea. Just like he’d known it would be. No wonder he hadn’t had a woman up here in
    a frickin’ eon.
    “Did I do something?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine.” Or at least he would be. When he was alone. Like he always was. His heart thundered in
    his chest. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He’d gotten over the panic attacks a while ago, but that
    jolt from past to present was sometimes so overwhelming, it left him more than a little off balance,
    like now.
    She was studying him like he’d just grown a second head, and he felt like it. Like a freak of nature.
    Holy shit, this was the woman he’d been fantasizing about and he couldn’t even separate himself
    enough from then and now to…
    He swallowed hard. Pushed that lovely thought away, and grappled for something to say. “Look.
    Sorry. That was…yeah. You were right. A bad idea. I mean, you’re you and I’m…”
    Silence settled between them. And tension, as thick as molasses, zapped the sexual energy in the
    room and drowned all that heady arousal.
    Yeah. Now he was just making this worse. He chanced a glance at her stricken expression and realized, Way to go, dumbass. Why don’t you just slap her while you’re at it?
    He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m…sorry,” he said again, for lack of anything else to say.
    “It’s okay,” she finally said after a lengthy silence.
    But it wasn’t. As she crossed her arms over her chest and glanced toward her coat, he knew it definitely wasn’t all right. Goddammit, this was why he’d walked away from her the first time. Because when he got close