Twisted By Love, Reincarnation Tales, Book 1 by Jasmine Haynes Page A

her
flesh around him, the heat of her skin against him, the sweetness
of her hair in his nostrils. He pumped and ground, his legs
shaking, his breath sawing. She met him thrust for thrust, her body
working him. He knew the moment her orgasm began. She dragged him
along with her, pulsing around him. The explosion rocked his world,
pulled him under, and he knew she fell into the abyss right along
with him.
    How long he held her, still throbbing deep
inside her body, he didn’t know. Long enough to feel the beat of
her heart slow against his chest. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t
want to pull out. If he did, he knew he’d lose her.
    Then Livie tipped her head back, her eyes a
rich, luscious chocolate. “Why don’t we go into the bedroom? A bed
would be a little softer than my kitchen counter.”
    Bern’s heart kicked up the pace. He’d take
her wherever she wanted to go.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Livie stood at the railing of her balcony,
the glitter of lights down the long stretch of hill before her, the
dark hollow of the bay beyond. The balcony, doors opening onto it
from both living room and bedroom, was what had sold her on the
condo.
    Though the usual evening wind had died down,
she’d wrapped herself in her robe against the chill of the night.
She sipped the wine he’d brought. They hadn’t drunk much of it.
They’d touched, kissed, licked, and stroked, making love in her
bed.
    No, it wasn’t making love, it was sex. You
couldn’t make love with a man you’d known a couple of days. But
damn, the sex was good. Down and dirty on the counter, then long
and leisurely in her bed. She’d give him major points for knowing
exactly where and how to touch her.
    Then they’d fallen asleep. She’d woken some
time later with the sense of something different. A man in her bed.
She hadn’t asked Bern to spend the night, yet it felt...right.
Good. Luxurious. She hadn’t had a nightmare either. She wanted to
get used to this. And that’s what had driven her from the bed. She
wasn’t ready to need him.
    It was close to midnight. The cars running up
and down the streets below were few and far between, though she
could pick out a steady stream down on the freeway and across the
San Mateo Bridge.
    Behind her, the door slid in its tracks.
Bern. She could smell his sexy masculine scent. Something about him
had called to her from the moment she saw him. It was the stuff of
romance novels. Livie would have said she was too practical for
that.
    “Have you finished reading it?”
    It certainly wasn’t what she expected him to
say. “Read what?”
    “ The Fountainhead .”
    He came to stand behind her, holding the
railing on either side of her, his chin above her shoulder, his
cheek against her hair. She should have felt trapped, but he
managed to make her feel safe. His arms were bare. She could feel
through the robe that the rest of him was naked as well, but she
didn’t ask if he was cold. His body heat seeped through the thin
material.
    “It’s a long book,” she said. “I haven’t
finished it, but I’ve made a good dent.” The book purchase
telegraphed her interest in him.
    “What do you think so far?”
    “It makes me wonder if the arrogant architect
who won’t compromise his vision is a bit like you.”
    He chuckled softly. “I compromise, but I
still hope there’s something of Roark in me.”
    She held up her wineglass and he took it,
drinking, then handed it back. She couldn’t say why, yet she viewed
him as a man of vision and integrity. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t
be as attracted. She wanted to know more about him, but was afraid
to ask. The more she knew, the deeper she’d fall. She went for
something neutral instead. “I’m enjoying the book. I didn’t think
I’d like something that old. The writing style back then was a lot
more wordy.”
    He removed one hand from the railing and
wrapped it around her waist, the unmistakable imprint of his hard
body against her. Again he gave her the