Microsoft Word - catherine mann - landis brothers 4 - rich man's fake fiancee.docx by Catherine Mann
Authors: Catherine Mann
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seducing her right here. Right now. Behind the nearest sand dune.
She stopped, dropping her shoes onto the sand, then taking his and tossing them aside, as well. She clasped both of his hands in hers. “You’ve been worried about our engagement fib.”
He stayed silent for three swooshes of the waves.
She squeezed his fingers. “Doing the wrong thing for all the right reasons is tough to reconcile. I know. I’ve been wrestling with the same issue.”
“What conclusion did you arrive at?”
“Good people are also fallible humans. Sometimes we deserve a break, even if it’s only a temporary reprieve.”
He skimmed his knuckles over the ivory clear and soft skin of her face, over her chin, down her neck. She gazed up at him, her eyes so deep and darkening as her pupils expanded.
If he let himself, he could fall…right…in.
He kissed her. He had to. The past couple of days they’d been dancing around this moment and he knew the solid reasons why he should wait to pursue the attraction, give her time, romance her more. But here, tonight, under the stars, he wanted her and he could feel that she wanted him, too, from the way she wriggled to get closer. He couldn’t sense even the least bit of hesitation in her response.
Her breathy sigh into his mouth reminded him of other times she’d gasped out her pleasure. This usually shy woman certainly tossed away her inhibitions when it came to the sensual.
She gripped his lapels, her fists tugging tighter, pulling him closer as she pressed herself to him. Her lips parted, her tongue meeting his every bit as aggressively as he sought hers. She tasted of citrus from her lime water earlier, more potent than any alcohol.
Her soft breasts molded temptingly against his chest and his hands itched to stroke her without the barrier of clothes or possible interruption.
As much as he ached to have her here, out in the open with the sky and waves all around them, he knew that wasn’t practical. “We should take this inside before we lose control.”
“And before someone with a telephoto lens gets an up-close and personal of the total you.”
“Not an image I want recorded for posterity.”
RICH MAN’S FAKE FIANCEE
22
CATHERINE MANN
SILHOUETTE DESIRE 1878
THE LANDIS BROTHERS
Laughing, she clasped his hand and dashed toward his white clapboard carriage house. She kept the hem of her dress hitched in one fist, a mesmerizing dichotomy in her formal gown and bare feet.
Matthew tugged at her hand. “Our shoes.”
She smiled back at him, her eyes full of total desire. “To hell with our shoes.”
Staring back at her, he knew he wouldn’t say no to Ashley in full tilt temptress mode. He just wished he could be sure his conscience would fare better against the harsh morning light than their shoes would against the elements.
Eight
A shley gripped Matthew’s hand as he led her past sprawling oak trees to his two-story carriage house. The quaint white home with gray-blue shutters gleamed like a beacon with the security lights strategically placed. Sand clung to her skin, rasping along her hyper-revved nerves as she raced by fragrant azaleas up the stone steps after him.
He swung the gray door wide and hauled her into the pitch dark hallway. Before she could blink, he’d slammed the door closed and pressed her against the wood panel for a kiss that sent her blood crashing through her veins like out-of-control waves during a hurricane. His hands were planted on either side of her head as he seduced her with nothing more than his mouth on hers. The taste of lingering ocean spray mingled with the lemon from his water earlier. Her shawl shimmered down her arms to pool around her feet.
Her foot stroked along the back of his calf, her sandy feet rasping against the fine fabric of his trousers. She grasped at his back, stroking and gripping and stroking more, lower, urging him closer until his body sealed flush against hers. And oh yes, she could feel how much he wanted
She stopped, dropping her shoes onto the sand, then taking his and tossing them aside, as well. She clasped both of his hands in hers. “You’ve been worried about our engagement fib.”
He stayed silent for three swooshes of the waves.
She squeezed his fingers. “Doing the wrong thing for all the right reasons is tough to reconcile. I know. I’ve been wrestling with the same issue.”
“What conclusion did you arrive at?”
“Good people are also fallible humans. Sometimes we deserve a break, even if it’s only a temporary reprieve.”
He skimmed his knuckles over the ivory clear and soft skin of her face, over her chin, down her neck. She gazed up at him, her eyes so deep and darkening as her pupils expanded.
If he let himself, he could fall…right…in.
He kissed her. He had to. The past couple of days they’d been dancing around this moment and he knew the solid reasons why he should wait to pursue the attraction, give her time, romance her more. But here, tonight, under the stars, he wanted her and he could feel that she wanted him, too, from the way she wriggled to get closer. He couldn’t sense even the least bit of hesitation in her response.
Her breathy sigh into his mouth reminded him of other times she’d gasped out her pleasure. This usually shy woman certainly tossed away her inhibitions when it came to the sensual.
She gripped his lapels, her fists tugging tighter, pulling him closer as she pressed herself to him. Her lips parted, her tongue meeting his every bit as aggressively as he sought hers. She tasted of citrus from her lime water earlier, more potent than any alcohol.
Her soft breasts molded temptingly against his chest and his hands itched to stroke her without the barrier of clothes or possible interruption.
As much as he ached to have her here, out in the open with the sky and waves all around them, he knew that wasn’t practical. “We should take this inside before we lose control.”
“And before someone with a telephoto lens gets an up-close and personal of the total you.”
“Not an image I want recorded for posterity.”
RICH MAN’S FAKE FIANCEE
22
CATHERINE MANN
SILHOUETTE DESIRE 1878
THE LANDIS BROTHERS
Laughing, she clasped his hand and dashed toward his white clapboard carriage house. She kept the hem of her dress hitched in one fist, a mesmerizing dichotomy in her formal gown and bare feet.
Matthew tugged at her hand. “Our shoes.”
She smiled back at him, her eyes full of total desire. “To hell with our shoes.”
Staring back at her, he knew he wouldn’t say no to Ashley in full tilt temptress mode. He just wished he could be sure his conscience would fare better against the harsh morning light than their shoes would against the elements.
Eight
A shley gripped Matthew’s hand as he led her past sprawling oak trees to his two-story carriage house. The quaint white home with gray-blue shutters gleamed like a beacon with the security lights strategically placed. Sand clung to her skin, rasping along her hyper-revved nerves as she raced by fragrant azaleas up the stone steps after him.
He swung the gray door wide and hauled her into the pitch dark hallway. Before she could blink, he’d slammed the door closed and pressed her against the wood panel for a kiss that sent her blood crashing through her veins like out-of-control waves during a hurricane. His hands were planted on either side of her head as he seduced her with nothing more than his mouth on hers. The taste of lingering ocean spray mingled with the lemon from his water earlier. Her shawl shimmered down her arms to pool around her feet.
Her foot stroked along the back of his calf, her sandy feet rasping against the fine fabric of his trousers. She grasped at his back, stroking and gripping and stroking more, lower, urging him closer until his body sealed flush against hers. And oh yes, she could feel how much he wanted
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