His Black Sheep Bride by Anna DePalo Page A

character.
    Okay, who was she kidding? It was thrilling, and she couldn’t help responding to it.
    â€œThere are five more bedrooms,” Sawyer said as he strode across the hall, leading her by the hand. “This one is mine.”
    Inside his bedroom, he swung her to face him.
    Tamara got a general impression of a four-poster king-size bed, more gleaming dark wood and a distinctly masculine feel.
    Then her gaze landed on Sawyer again.
    â€œOh, no,” she said breathlessly, shaking her head at the look in his eyes.
    Purposely, he advanced on her, and she backed up until the bedpost stopped her retreat.
    Why had she never noticed Sawyer’s raw masculinity until recently? Even in a conservative business suit, his tie in place, he looked impossibly sexy. The rakish look in his eyes made her weak-kneed.
    A sizzling warmth suffused her. Her breasts tightened, and a heavy ache pooled between her legs.
    Maybe before she hadn’t wanted to see Sawyer as he was. Maybe this was the real reason she’d kept him at a distance.
    She itched to caress the firm line of his jaw and the strong column of his neck. She curled her fingers into the palm of her hand to stop herself from doing so.
    Sawyer gave her a sexy smile. “What are you thinking?”
    â€œWhat am I thinking?” she tried, thinking one of them had to hold on to sanity. “Isn’t the question, what are you doing?”
    He was too close. The inches between them crackled with electricity.
    Sawyer’s smile widened. “Perhaps I’ve realized that I’d enjoy having you as my wife in every way.”
    â€œThanks very much!”
    â€œHow long has it been for you?” he murmured. “I know you and what’s-his-name weren’t intimate.”
    Her mouth dropped open, and then snapped shut. “Tom, his name is Tom. And I’m not discussing this with you.”
    Sawyer’s smile turned lazy and knowing. “That long, then?”
    He touched her, smoothing the backs of his fingers down the side of her breast in a gentle caress, and Tamara sucked in a breath.
    â€œDamn you,” she whispered.
    He slid his hand up her arm, bringing her into his embrace. “Your eyes tell a different story, Goldilocks.”
    â€œOh?” she said, cursing the catch in her voice. “Do tell!”
    Sawyer searched her face, arousal stamped on his. “Your eyes are already cloudy with desire.”
    She tried to look bored, even as the press of his arousal sent a fresh wave of awareness shooting through her. “You’re making me sleepy.”
    Sawyer chuckled before his expression turned seductive and intent again.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Goldilocks?” he muttered, his head bending toward hers. “Are you finding that this bed is just right?”
    And then his mouth met hers again.
    He tasted of wine from their meal, and the scent of some expensive and finely-milled English sandalwood soap clung to his skin. The combination was strangely intoxicating. Andshe yielded to it, her hands running up his arms until she clung to him, her arms around his neck.
    Damningly, she didn’t think about whether this was right. It just felt good.
    She’d passed the point of reflection and gone on to someplace more elemental.
    Sawyer pressed her against the bedpost, his muscled thigh wedging between her legs.
    He toyed with her lips, and she moaned with each nip and suck and gentle graze.
    â€œThat’s right,” he approved gutturally. “Let me know how you feel.”
    His mouth wandered away from hers, tracing along her jaw, and her head fell to one side, exposing her neck for their mutual pleasure.
    While he kissed the column of her neck, his hands roamed and molded, running down her sides, from the curve of her breasts to the jut of her hips. In response, her fingers curled into his shoulders with pleasure.
    When Sawyer’s mouth came back to hers, he slid his hand up under the hem