Versed in Desire Read Online Free PDF Page B

office and you had to stop buying me cupcakes.”
    A smile quirked the corners of his mouth, then he resumed his caressing strokes. “I’m glad things went the way they did. Just so we’re clear, what happens between you and me,” he mimicked my vague flip with his hand, “stays between you and me.”
    â€œI know you now,” I said, rolling onto my back. His hand trailed over my hip as I moved, transferring from the base of my spine to the softness of my belly just above my mound. The sensation of his fingertips light against my skin sent renewed heat skittering through me. “You aren’t like that.”
    â€œYou know me.”
    I felt my eyes widen. “I think I do,” I said, a little more cautious.
    â€œWhat do you know about me?”
    Where should I start? “I know you bring me cupcakes but you never eat dessert yourself. I know you couldn’t care less about baseball but you spent a small fortune on World Series tickets so you could take your Little Brother who’s crazy for the Yankees.” I didn’t mention the photo of him and Marshall at Game Seven that was his current desktop background because suddenly this was revealing exactly how much I’d learned about him. “I know you drink nothing but water, with the occasional whiskey.”
    â€œI have juice every morning with my cereal,” he said in his I’m-too-serious-to-be-taking-myself-seriously fashion.
    â€œHow healthy of you. Water, whiskey and juice,” I amended. Then I reached up to cup his raspy jaw. “I know you look like the devil incarnate and Tony looks like a cherub, but when you were kids Tony was the troublemaker and you were the voice of reason. I know you can go home with the prettiest girl at a party, but you never bring her to the next party and you never brag about your conquests.”
    Whether I was the prettiest girl at Tony’s party was debatable. Luke arriving alone at the Christmas bash was indisputable. My smile faltered.
    He stared at me for a couple of heartbeats, his face suddenly unreadable. Then he reached for my hand, kissed my knuckles and brought it down to his hard shaft. “What do you know about that?”
    I stroked slowly, gently, watching his face all the while. “I know you want me.”
    He kept his hand on top of mine until I had a rhythm he liked, timed to our breathing. Then he trailed his index finger over the thin strip of hair on my mound and dipped it into the slick heat between my legs. “And you want me,” he said.
    I should have felt grateful he’d returned the discussion to its rightful place—sex—and the sheer physical need I felt for him almost, almost sufficed. I opened my legs just enough to admit his hand and tilted my hips. “Yes,” I admitted, my voice lower. Husky. He added a second finger. “Oh, yes. Right there.”
    His eyes darkened, then he bent his head and kissed me, soft, closed-mouth, chaste kisses at the corners of my mouth, my cheek, my jaw, until I parted my legs and gasped.
    â€œAre we back to slow?”
    A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he rolled between my legs. He braced himself on his elbows and looked down at me for another long moment. “Always,” he murmured against my mouth.
    His tongue flickered lightly against mine before he slanted his head and kissed me. I looped my arms around his neck and sank into the feel of us pressed together along the length of our bodies, his calf against mine, erect cock notched between my thighs, the hair on his chest rasping against my sensitive nipples. I could smell him, sweat and musk, taste the saltiness on his shoulders, hear the deepening rasp of his breathing as our kisses went from exploratory to passionate.
    He nipped his way along my jaw to my ear. “I can taste myself when I kiss you,” he murmured.
    Some guys hate that. They want you to swallow, then immediately brush your teeth.