Falling for Mr. Wrong Read Free

the heart. “Maybe.”
    “Well, to answer your question, I’m leaving tomorrow for Nepal.” The flutter between her legs grew to a throb.
    “Dear God.” Ross pulled back, frowning. “Are you climbing Mount Everest?”
    Kelsey smiled. “No. Annapurna, actually. Annapurna One.”
    “There’s more than one of them?”
    “It’s a section of peaks in the Himalayas. Annapurna One is the tallest. Not as big as Everest, but size isn’t everything.”
    Ross waggled his eyebrows. “Anyone who says that is lying, you know.”
    Kelsey giggled. Suddenly, she felt the weight of the mountain, which had rested so squarely on her shoulders for weeks, lift. Ross put a hand on her knee, then traced a path along her thigh. She leaned forward, every muscle in her body straining toward his touch.
    She wanted to be naked. She wanted to be crazy and abandoned, to rip off his shirt and bury her nails into the taut flesh of his back.
    “I guess we should cover some basics,” she said. “I prefer crunchy peanut butter and hate hot tubs.”
    Ross nodded. “I went through a heavy metal phase in college that I’ve never totally grown out of, and would love to convince you otherwise about hot tubs.”
    “They’re a festering pool of germs.”
    “Sometimes you need a little extra heat.”
    “Not tonight.” She reached down and moved his hand higher on her leg. Ross made an appreciative sound in the back of his throat. He paused for a moment before pulling up the edge of her skirt. When his thumb brushed her inner thigh, she almost fell off the stool.
    What was happening to her? She’d never been particularly good with men. She’d dated here and there during college, lost her virginity to a nice boy who shared her love of long-distance running and backpacking, but never felt entirely comfortable with anyone. She’d certainly never been comfortable enough to allow any man to take liberties with her in a crowded bar.
    Yet here she was, ready to open her thighs to a complete stranger.
    “Where are you staying?” she managed to squeak out.
    “The St. Julien,” he replied. “Why don’t I call us a cab?”
    …
    The cab ride was mercifully short. Kelsey stayed a cool distance away from him, as if recognizing that any contact might be too much. Ross appreciated it. The last thing he needed was to get arrested for indecent exposure in the back of a taxi.
    When they arrived, he paid the driver and led Kelsey to the bank of elevators. As soon as the doors closed behind them, he pulled her roughly into his arms and crushed her mouth under his.
    Damn. Damn. Damn.
    She was cinnamon and sugar, hot and sweet under his tongue. There was no slow build, no gradual or growing awareness. No, in an instant, desire was roaring in his ears and pounding through his veins. His body burned and tightened. They kissed with a passion so intense it was frantic, bumping teeth and pulling hair, tongues meshing and then fighting. Somehow, she ended up on his waist, skirt around her thighs. With one hand he cupped her buttock cheek, while the other slid under her shirt for the first touch of her breast.
    When he touched the rounded flesh, soft skin covered by the silky lace of her bra, Ross was briefly struck by the remembered feeling of his wife. His ex -wife. He felt her breasts, the ones he’d known since they were stupid kids trying out sex and love in the backseat of a car. But then he found the peak of Kelsey’s nipple, and felt her press her hips against him, and everything else fell away.
    Kelsey was new and every one of his senses had come alive to drink her in. Her body. Her smile. The intensity of her kiss.
    The ding of the elevator doors pulled them briefly to reality. Kelsey dropped nimbly to her feet, and Ross led them down the hall to his room. Feeling like an awkward teen, he fumbled in his pocket for the key to his room, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of Kelsey, her eyes dark and huge, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate.