Riptide by Cherry Adair Page A

herself against him like a cat in heat.
    He murmured low in his throat, and slid his fingers down the back of her jeans.
    She never had been able to resist playing with fire. Her childhood nickname had been Fiammetta, fiery one. For temper more than temperament at that age. But she’d always been hot-blooded and curious. And she didn’t resist the temptation. Tightening her arm across his chest, she fisted her fingers in his shirt.
    The kiss was raw. Powerful. A riptide that dragged her under without a struggle.
    Impulse had let her forget she was horizontal in the man’s bed. The instant his firm lips touched hers, she knew she was out of her league. Way out.
    I’m in deep, deep trouble here, she thought as her brain went hazy and her heartbeat spiked into the stratosphere. Oh, my God. The man could kiss.
    This was no first kiss, no subtle invitation, nothing as polite as a tentative exploration between two strangers. No. This was shockingly hot, wet, and dizzyingly carnal. Nerves sizzled the instant their lips met. She breathed in his breath, tasted greed in the lavish use of his tongue and teeth. He nipped her lower lip, then laved it with his tongue before sweeping it into her mouth again.
    When Bria stroked her tongue along his, his chest vibrated with a low, feral growl. One minute his forearm was a steel band across her back, his fingers tangled in her hair; the next, he said her name in a hoarse whisper.
    Not “Princess.” Not that insufferable “Your Highness.” Gabriella.
    Twisting her so she was sprawled beneath him, Nick’s arm tightened around her as he pressed his knee unerringly to the wet place between her legs that ached for it.
    The ferocity of his unleashed hunger startled her with its intensity, shaking her all the way to her toes. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he commanded the kiss, taking her little experiment from zero to a hundred and fifty in one second flat.
    She wanted his kiss more than she’d wanted anything in her life. And she moaned as his tongue swept between her teeth, sleek and hard and searching. She slid her fingers through his dark hair to cup the back of his head, mirroring what he was doing to her.
    His mouth fed on hers until she forgot to breathe, couldn’t reason. She went blind and deaf, her entire being focused on where their mouths and bodies were fused together.
    The hard length of his erection ground against her hip, and she arched her hips to get more … She started tugging at his shirt. Pulled at her own. She wanted skin, damn it—
    Panting as if she’d run the two-minute mile, Bria had to drag in a shuddering breath. She blinked. The cabin was much lighter now than it had been what felt like seconds ago.
    “Come back here,” he murmured thickly, capturing her lips again with another drugging kiss.
    What was she doing, what was she doing, what the hell was she doing? Reason slammed into her like a bolt of lightning, a blinding flash that harshly illuminated her situation.
    She yanked her head away, and felt his ragged, uneven breath against her damp lips. “Stop,” she managed. Her heart was beating so fast she could barely tell one hard thump from the next. Her skin was sheened with perspiration, and her lips stung.
    If he pressed that knee a little harder, she’d come right then without any further assistance. “Please. D-don’t move.”
    This was nothing like the mild pleasure she’d experienced before, hands-on or solo with her vibrator. Those sensations had been easy to walk away from unscathed. Not Nick Cutter’s kiss. The whirlpool of lust she felt—was still feeling—scared the living crap out of her. It was too much. Too explosive.
    For a guy who’d given the impression of having zero emotions, hell, barely a frigging pulse, Nick’s kiss was nothing short of electrifying. Bria’s girl parts had melted from the combustible heat of his mouth on hers alone.
    Potent stuff.
    He went predatory still for a moment, then lifted his head.