Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires - Rebecca Winters Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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by a vindictive, selfish bastard.

      But he also knew when a woman was attracted to him—and Wren’s face hid nothing.

      Collecting the glasses and the half-empty bottle of wine, he followed her. In the small space, he could feel the heat radiating around them. Neither had said a word, but the air held a sizzling tension. Anticipation raced through his veins.

      “Please, stop helping,” she said as she collected the dirty saucepan and wooden spoon from the stove. “Let me do it.”

      She brushed past him, her bare arm sweeping against his. The subtle touch sent shock waves through him, flipping the on switch to his entire nervous system. It caught the on switch to his cock as well, which stood to full attention, straining against the fly of his jeans.

      Holy hell. He couldn’t seem to control himself around her. Turning as though he were about to rinse the wineglasses in the sink, he adjusted himself.

      “It’s no trouble.” He flipped the taps on, but the water gushed out far stronger than he’d expected and it sprayed him all down his front.

      “Oh no!” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “The taps here have a mind of their own. I swear they’re haunted by evil water ghosts.”

      She reached for the dish towel and wadded it up in her hand, pressing it straight to the wet patch on his stomach, dabbing up and down.

      If he’d thought he was hard before, he was like marble now.

      Her hand drifted over him, hovering at his waist as her eyes caught on the totally noticeable bulge in his jeans. Cheeks flaming, she sucked on her bottom lip and drew her hand back as if burned. Shit, she probably thought he was some sex-crazed freak.

      “Wren, I’m sor—”

      “You’ll need to lose it.” Her eyes came up to meet his like two smoldering sapphires.

      “Huh?”

      “The T-shirt.” She flicked her hand in his direction. “A dish towel won’t fix that. It has to come off.”

      He hesitated for a moment but the lust in her eyes urged him on. Curling his fingers under the hem of the now-soaked cotton shirt, he peeled it up and over his head. Cool air swept over his skin, tightening his nipples and making him hyperaware of every inch of his body.

      “The jeans, too,” she said, keeping her face straight. “They’re soaked.”

      He glanced down and saw a small dark patch where the denim had absorbed the water. They were hardly soaked. “You sure about that?”

      “Let me help you.” She stepped forward and reached for the buckle on his belt.

      Her fingertips grazed his bare skin and he had to stifle a moan. He might have started the fire, but she was fanning the flames.

       6

      WASN’T SHE SUPPOSED to be keeping her distance? At the very least she should be drawing boundaries, given he was the guy who could get her in a world of trouble right now.

       Then why did you come here? You knew where this would go. He won’t leave your head until you do something about it.

      Her fingers trembled as they wrapped around the sturdy leather of his belt, grazing the hard ridge pressing against his fly. His hips jerked as she released the buckle.

      “Christ, Wren.” He uttered her name so low she almost didn’t hear it. But he only took a second before he grabbed her hips and pinned her against the kitchen counter. “I thought I was going to be the one to make a move.”

      “So move,” she said, taunting him softly.

      A gasp escaped her lips as he nudged his leg between hers, his thigh applying just the right amount of pressure to the needy ache there.

      “Yes.” The word slipped from her lips and Wren felt her last remaining ounce of restraint disappear into the ether.

       What did Debbie say—you’ve got to use it before you lose it?

      Maybe it was stupid to get entangled with Rhys. No, it was definitely stupid. And not only that, it was irresponsible and selfish. She was keeping secrets from this man who’d been nothing but kind to her. Even after she’d spilled out all the pain of what had happened to her back home.

       Stupid, stupid, stupid.

      But right now her brain wasn’t the one in the driver’s seat. So there would be no obeying the speed limit, no following the rules. Her body had taken over, and it wanted to make up for lost time.

      “How do you feel about dessert?” she asked.

      Hard granite dug into her lower back as his hips held her fast. “What do you have in mind?”

      “Let’s skip whatever you had planned and go straight to bed.”

      “Health conscious. I like it.” His hot breath whispered across her skin as his full lips grazed her cheek.

      “Yes, exactly what I was going for.” She rolled her eyes, her laugh breaking off into a moan as he nipped at her earlobe. “Do you have to be such an adult about everything?”

      “I’m thinking some very adult things right now.”

      Her hands drifted up his chest, tracing each ridge of muscle one by one. “Oh yeah?”

      “Super adult. It would make my spreadsheet look like child’s play.”

      Laughter bubbled up in Wren’s chest as she placed a finger over his lips. “Okay, enough dirty talk.”

      Mercifully, he brushed her hand aside and finally captured her mouth. The soft glide of his tongue against hers left her weak at the knees. He tasted of wine and heaven. Boy, oh boy, could he kiss.

      This was A-grade, five-gold-stars, Nobel Prize levels of kissing.

      His hands were at her waist, then her rib cage, then her breasts. Kneading. Squeezing. Flicking.

      “Oh!” Her head jerked back as he pinched her nipple through the thin layer of her tank. It felt as though a volt of electricity had shot straight through her.

      “Is that a good ‘oh’?” He chuckled against the side of her neck as he nipped at the sensitive skin there. Each bite was soothed with a swipe of his tongue in a maddening pattern. Nip. Swipe. Nip. Swipe.

      “That’s a ‘don’t stop if you know what’s good for you’ oh,” she said, lolling her head back as his fingers hooked under the strap of her tank and pulled it down, exposing her breast to his hands.

      His palm circled her, only stopping to allow his thumb to take over. And then his mouth… Oh, dear God. His mouth. He drew her nipple between his teeth, holding it gently there while he flicked his tongue against her, drawing out every soul-deep pleasure sound she could possible make.

      Shamelessly, she rubbed against him. It had been so long since she’d felt this good, strung tighter than a wire and ready to snap. His other hand fisted in her skirt, trying to get at her through all the layers of fabric.

      “Dammit,” he growled against her breast. “This skirt is ridiculous.”

      “It’s not ridiculous.”

      “It is.” He stood back and watched, his dark eyes almost totally black as they drank her in. “No, it’s criminal. Hiding those legs away should be illegal.”

      Laughing, she made a show of swinging her hips like an exotic dancer. “Well, I do not want to get arrested.”

      “Ditch the skirt.”

      A sharp sound pierced the air as she drew the zipper down, and in an instant the fabric

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