Project Runaway Bride(38)

She’d gone that route once, doing what was expected more than following her own heart, and look how that had turned out.

So, no. The next time she said yes and agreed to wear a man’s ring on her finger for the rest of her life, it would be because she was head over heels in love with him, and he with her. End of story.

Meeting his eyes and making sure he knew she meant what she was about to tell him, she said, “I think you’ll be a wonderful father. And an equally good husband someday.”

He canted his head to one side, studying her. “Someday. But not today, and not with you, hmm?”

The sad smile she offered was as wide as she could make it. “No.”

Catching her off guard, he stepped forward, stopping only when their knees brushed. She glanced down to where the black of his slacks met the light tan of hers and then back up to his face.

He grasped her elbows and hauled her up until her breasts were pressed to his chest, the air knocked from her lungs by astonishment alone.

“Are you afraid we won’t be compatible?” he asked, his voice low and thick, falling like dark, aged rum on all of her most sensitive places. “In the long-term?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but her tongue felt like a giant wad of cotton, making it impossible to speak. Nearly impossible to breathe.

Compatibility was seriously not an issue. At least not the kind of compatibility he was currently talking about.

Running his hand along her jaw and around the back of her neck, he threaded his fingers into the hair at her nape and tipped her head back, following with his mouth. He didn’t give her time to think or to stop him—not that she would have tried.

His lips, warm and soft and tasting of what she thought might have been scotch, simply covered hers. She would rather taste the rich liquor on his tongue than from a glass any day of the week.

Juliet wasn’t sure if he truly desired her, or if he was just trying to prove a point, but she couldn’t seem to find it in herself to push him away. There was so much between them. So many complicated issues, so much said and unsaid. The last thing either of them needed was to add another intimate encounter to the list.

But as he kissed her, as his mouth moved against hers, his tongue licking and tickling and teasing, she didn’t care. Or at the very least, she was willing to push everything else to a back burner to be dealt with later. Much later.

Her hands moved up to cup his shoulders, his tight muscles flexing beneath the fine cotton weave of his shirt. He was exactly as she remembered him—strong and warm and overtly masculine.

Without breaking the kiss, Reid backed her the short distance to the bed. When she bumped the edge of the mattress and started to fall, he fell with her, sinking onto the soft surface, covering her with his weight and power and sexual intent.

It reminded her so much of their first time. The passion, the need, the intensity. The way he took control and possessed her without ever making her feel constrained or dominated.

While her arms lowered to caress the expanse of his back, his hands drifted down to her waist and slipped under the hem of her knit top. The pads of his fingers danced across her bare skin, pushing the sweater upward. Higher and higher, taking away her ability to draw oxygen into her lungs.

Hoping to repay the erotic favor, she trailed her hands around to his front, deftly loosening his belt, unfastening his slacks and slipping her fingers inside. Reid groaned into her mouth, and she swallowed the sound even as she reveled in it, let it empower her. She pushed the trousers down over his hips at the same time she lifted her arms to allow him to tug the sweater all the way off over her head.

They were both breathing heavily as she floated back to the mattress. Their gazes locked, and she could see herself reflected in the sable brown of his eyes, along with raw heat and longing.

He began to trail nibbling kisses everywhere he could reach—her mouth, her chin, the corners of her eyes, back down the column of her throat to the valley between her breasts. He cupped them together with her bra still in place, teasing the budding nipples with his thumbs through the material.

Juliet released a sigh, letting the sensations roll through her, letting them fill her and build and spill over. She ran her hands down the center of his chest, releasing the tiny buttons of his dress shirt as she went until she could slip her fingers inside and push the material apart.

He had to let go of her breasts and shift to allow her to remove the shirt altogether, but it was no great loss since it gave her the chance to stroke his firm, sun-bronzed skin. The smooth flesh that covered rock-hard muscles and tendons, that flexed and flowed beneath her touch.

She pushed the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms, letting it fall to the floor behind him. Her hands found the upper curve of his buttocks and she gave them a gentle squeeze before running her nails up the line of his spine.