Holiday Romance Collection - 6 Books Bundle (Erotic Romance - Holiday Romance) Read Free Page A

had told her he was dead.
    “You grew out your hair.” His voice came from directly in front of her.
    She felt a movement in the air, then his fingers touched the loose tendrils of hair around her face. His fingers slid in her hair, scattering the pins securing her shoulder-length brown curls at the top of her head. The hair cascaded around her face, brushed her cheeks, her forehead, the back of her neck. Maeve had no choice. She opened her eyes.
    He was right there, barely a foot away. His square-jawed face, penetrating black eyes, like pools of molten obsidian. His scent, of sweat and Ivory soap and leather, which meant he had his holstered gun on him somewhere.
    “Don’t touch me,” she said again, but felt whatever resolve she had begin to tremble.
    “I missed you so much, baby.” His voice deepened as he came even closer.
    She leaned back into the counter away from him, or at least that’s what she meant to do, but instead she leaned into him, leaned into his wide chest, into his arms. The cry she had been stifling burst from her. It sounded like her heart breaking, or like the shattered pieces slamming back together in a riotous cacophony of sound.
     
    His mouth was as hot as she remembered, as hard, pressing firmly into hers, welcoming a deeper connection beyond flesh. She kissed him back, desperately pressing closer, closer, and closer until their lips slid, parted, and his tongue darted inside her mouth, demanding entrance, taking what they both wanted him to have. Their bodies pressed together, his muscled chest, belly, and sex hard against her, igniting memories of desire, the reality of a present and persistent passion. Maeve groaned into his open mouth, his big hand pressed against her back, slid down to cup her bottom in the jeans.
    “Baby…” His rough voice scraped against the tender places inside her, leaving raw desire in its wake. His tongue danced with hers, stroking her to a quick fire, summoning wetness between her legs, a conflagration of desire in her belly. Maeve opened her legs for him, wanted him suddenly against her, inside her. She moaned.
    And Jacob understood. He seemed to want the same thing. He lifted her up to the worktable, spread her legs and slipped between her thighs.
    “I wish you were wearing one of your dresses,” he rasped against her mouth, his hands already unbuttoning, unzipping, slipping past her underwear.
    Maeve gasped. “Oh!”
    “Baby, you’re so wet….” He groaned and pressed himself against her heat, once, twice.
    His fingers moved between her legs and she gasped, clutching at his shoulders when he slipped a finger inside her, his thumb stroking the source of her passion. Her head fell back. She gasped his name, widened her legs, wished too that she had worn a dress so she could feel him, all of him. His hands gripped the waist of her jeans and tugged.
    The bell outside the workroom jingled. A male voice called Maeve’s name.
    No! No! No!
    “Please,” Jacob groaned against her ear. “Just let me—” his finger moved inside her, stroking her deftly. Her hips arched into his touch, her breath sped up.
    The customer called out her name again, louder as if he was walking toward the workroom.
     
    “I’ll be right there!” she called out. Then cleared her throat, pushed away from Jacob, or at least tried to.
    “Give me five more minutes,” he whispered in her ear. “I want to hear you come. I love the sound you make. I’ve missed it so much.” He stroked her again, more firmly, added another finger. She gasped again, widened her thighs to take more of his intrusion.
    And she wanted him to. Wanted him to take her and make her call his name. Make her scream it. It had been three years.
    “I can’t.” Her voice throbbed with regret. “I’m at work.”
    He paused a long moment, watching her as the fever of passion slowly faded from his eyes. Jacob’s gaze fastened on her lips, on her nipples visible through her bra and tank top. Slowly, slowly