Flirting With Disaster by Sofia Harper Page B

pounded. Yes, she intended to take
control, but hadn't expected the intensity.
    “ Come here.” His two words
were a challenge, a command.
    The rasp in her steady breath sounded so
loud to her ears. “I would if you ask nicely.” She balled her hands
to hide the trembling. “Now, about the gift. How about I give you
clues?”
    He tilted his head. “I know what it is.”
    Did he know he was making her nervous?
“What?”
    Something lit in his gaze. Yes, he did know.
His smile was slow and sexy. “A book.”
    She swallowed and stepped in front of him.
His crossed arms gave him a relaxed appearance, but she felt the
tension radiating off him as he waited for her to make her move.
And still Brooke couldn't read his face. He said he didn't hate
her, never had, so cutting out loathing left them with lust. That
emotion burned bright in his eyes now as she inched closer.
    The realization sparked a delicious tension
in her stomach. Hell, that truth confused her and drew her to the
heat of him. That knowledge made it okay for her to reach out to
place a hand on his chest, right over his heart. The rapid, nervous
thump teased a smile out of her. He unfolded his arms.
    She said, “I don't know if you'll like the
book, but you'll know the writer's work. He's...scary famous.”
    He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and
lifted her hand to his mouth. He placed a kiss in the middle of her
palm and worked his way down to her wrist. She held her breath,
shocked and aroused in equal measure that something so innocent
could make her so wet.
    When done, he straightened, pulling her to
him. “I like your hands.”
    Warmth spread through her chest at his
confession. Everything else about her was as feminine as the next
woman's, except her hands. “The author was born after the
1880s.”
    He scraped his teeth along her wrist. She
pursed her lips to keep in the moan. His touch reminded her of
everything she did her best to forget: the feel of his mouth
between her legs, the rasp of his five o'clock shadow on her
shoulder blade. She remembered everything about that drunken night.
Though it felt as though two other people had drunk themselves
silly until one of them was on their knees, licking, sucking...
That couple laughed. They didn't argue. They didn't have
resentments they put aside. There was no anticipation or
pressure.
    She couldn't claim that now while her skin
felt tight just letting her mind wander close to what would happen
next.
    Dane trailed his tongue over her pulse and
met her gaze. “Are you done rambling?”
    “ I'm—” She bit her tongue
to keep from telling him she was nervous. Those words felt raw in
her throat. He was turning the tables on her, controlling this
moment between them. “I'm not.”
    He let his fingers climb up her arms, behind
her neck. He tugged at the knot holding up her dress but didn't
loosen it.
    “ What do you want, Brooke?”
His voice had become gruffer.
    She started to bite her tongue again, but
she didn't want to lie to him, not when she felt the tension
practically vibrating through him. Perhaps he was in no better
control of the situation than she was.
    “ I want you,” she
said.
    The pull of material on her nape
disappeared. He watched the dress fall to the floor. She'd worn
heels too. Even she had to admit they made her legs look long and
incredibly sexy. He closed his eyes and then opened them again with
the next breath.
    Her nipples pulled tight. His gaze was so
hungry, and for her. She started to say something, anything to
break the silence, but Dane dragged her against him. The force of
his need slammed into her, and before she could process the action,
his mouth was on hers. She placed her hands on his chest, spreading
them over the firm expanse until she curled her fingers into his
shoulders.
    The kiss of air couldn't cool her heated
skin. It was too deep inside her, pulsating, and nothing would cool
that ache. He teased the outer curve of her breasts with his thumbs
before