The Unwilling Bride Read Online Free PDF

this…goofy.
    Stefan had been nothing but friendly. A lonely man in a strange country, seeking some basic companionship. Even now, as he yanked on his alpaca jacket, the front hall sconce light illuminated his genial smile, the crinkle of laugh lines around his eyes. It was just his powerful stature that made her five-seven seem defenselesslysmall. Maybe he was hopelessly gregarious, but he hadn’t done or said one thing to make her worry that he was anything but a kind man. A safe man. A good guy.
    “Snowing again,” he noted, as he pulled worn leather gloves from his pockets.
    “We’ll probably have a couple more inches by morning.” She hugged her arms under her chest. The front hall was drafty cold. He was obviously ready to leave, so she thought he was just turning toward her to say goodbye. And she saw him bend his head, but she also saw his kind, safe almost-familiar-now smile.
    It never occurred to her that a kiss was coming.
    It never occurred to her that he wanted to kiss her.
    Her mind scrabbled to recall if she’d sent him any come-on body language signals. But of course she hadn’t. Paige hadn’t sent any men those willing body language signals since she was sixteen. And lightning storms weren’t supposed to happen in the blizzard month of January.
    She wasn’t prepared, never even got her arms unfolded before they were trapped between his body and hers. A big hand cupped her head. His lips touched hers, more gentle than a whisper, his mouth unbearably soft against the tickle of his rough, wiry beard.
    The taste of him was foreign. Alien. Drugging sweet and disturbing. Her pulse zoomed like a skater on the ice for the first time, unpredictable and unsteady and flying way too fast.
    That first skimming kiss turned deeper. His mouth rubbed against hers, testing, exploring the texture of her lips, savoring the taste of her. You’d think he hadn’t kissed a woman in the last hundred years. You’d think he just discovered a secret treasure, andher senses wrapped around the smell of leather and alpaca wool and the male warmth radiating from his body.
    The speed of light was fast, but not half as fast as the speed of darkness. It had been so long since she’d kissed anyone. She’d forgotten. The exhilaration sweeping through her pulse was more frightening than any danger. She’d forgotten what it was like to feel that innocent burst of yearning, to feel that lusty dizzy spring-fever high, to feel that heady excitement of wanting. Or maybe she’d never known. She’d kissed boys, not men. Never a man who knew how to kiss like he did. Never him.
    She meant to bolt, not close her eyes. She meant to push him away, not stand stock-still as if she were caught up in a spell of enchantment. She wasn’t wild anymore. She’d slayed and buried every hint of wildness in her heart, years and years ago, yet it was as if she’d frozen those emotions instead of truly killing them off, because they seeped through her now, billowing loose like a parachute in the wind.
    It was his fault. If she could just get a lungful of oxygen, she knew she could catch control again. Yet his thumb grazed the line of her jaw, in a caressing gesture as potent as tenderness. And his kiss turned openmouthed, claiming her response as if it already belonged to him, making her li’ps ache and her head feel thrumming dizzy.
    She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. And then, she didn’t have to. He lifted his head. There was a fire in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, sharp and black and hot, yet he pushed back a strand of her hair with a gentle touch. His gaze scored her face, studying hereyes, her mouth, the flush burned in her cheeks that he’d put there. And then he smiled.
    “Paige…” He dropped his hand and stepped toward the door, as if nothing but leaving had ever been on his mind. The sudden glint of humor in his eyes, in fact, had the devil’s own mischief. “So you know. That was not about oppression or sex