Crossing the Line: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel Read Free Page A

punctuating my sentence, or perhaps mocking me as I’m trying to ignore what’s going on and why I’m still in this man’s apartment.
    “I never gave it much thought. Honestly, I was a stupid kid.” His grin is a bit embarrassed as he stretches back against the couch cushions. “Between undergrad and law school, my father forced me to take a year off. When he retired, he’d decided to travel, but not in conventional ways. He visited friends working in third world countries and helped them treat those who couldn’t afford medical care. So he dragged me along with him, as a payback for him paying for law school. It forced me to grow up…in a lot of ways.”
    “Wow. Your dad was hardcore.”
    “He was.” He nods, his smile shrinking a bit. “But he taught me a lot. I grew up privileged. I had everything. And even though my parents tried to make sure I was brought up right and understood the world, you don’t really get it until you see it. You know what I mean?”
    I nod. “I do. We were the opposite. My parents…they did okay for themselves, and they were smart. They got life insurance, so when Noah and I turned eighteen, we had college money and a little bit of a cushion to survive on. But our grandparents were poor. So we grew up knowing the price difference between frozen and canned peas and watching the coupon pages in the newspaper. But we knew we had more than others.”
    “Exactly. We get comfortable in our lives here—and we should. That’s part of living in this country. But it’s dangerous when we assume everyone has that opportunity.”
    The intensity of the conversation turns the silence afterwards reflective. We sit quietly for a few minutes, each lost in thought.
    “More coffee?” Ian nods to my cup.
    “Sure.” I follow him into the kitchen, noting how well his suit pants fit his ass and the way his shirt clings to his muscled shoulders. Yummy, indeed.
    He’s doing something with the coffee machine, and I lean back against the counter, trying not to stare at him. When he turns, he’s just a bit too close, and then his mouth is on mine, soft yet demanding, and his hands slide up to my shoulders. It’s a quick kiss, almost chaste, but the heat sears my lips.
    “I really hope you wanted me to do that.” He drops his hands to his sides, his tone pensive.
    I bite my lip, still feeling his mouth. “I didn’t stop you.” My insides are turning to jelly, but all I want is to feel him against me again. So I do something I never do.
    I make the next move. He’s taller than me by several inches, so I draw his face down to mine, lips teasing over his as I ease us into the next kiss. His mouth is hungry, but his touch soft as his hands slide over my back, pulling me against him. I lean in, enjoying the sculpted length of him against my body and the light scent of his aftershave. When my tongue teases the edge of his mouth, he answers in kind, deepening the kiss, his arms tightening around me.
    “Wow,” I say when we come up for air. “That was…”
    “Unexpected?” His eyes crinkle at the corners, his expression hopeful.
    “Lovely, actually.”
    We forget about the coffee, getting lost in the excitement of skin and heat. When his hand slides beneath my sweater, moisture pools between my legs. I haven’t felt this turned on in a long time, and for once, my usual caution seems to have evaporated. He lifts me, setting me on his counter as he continues his exploration of my skin. I wrap my legs around his waist, enjoying the feel of his hardness against me. His fingers release my bra, and when his palm skims my breast, I suck in a breath, letting his mouth drop to my neck as I revel in the sensation.
    “I want to undress you,” he whispers in my ear, sending a delicious chill down to my core. “It would be a lot easier in my bedroom.” He pulls back so he can look in my eyes.
    I barely nod, trying not to think about what I’m agreeing to, and yet knowing all too well. His kiss makes me