Make Me Believe: Unbelievable, Book 3 Read Free Page B

exactly where she hadn’t wanted to be. In his arms. “Are you all right?”
    No, she wasn’t. It felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. She couldn’t even breathe, her heart slammed so hard against her sternum. The chill fled her limbs in a split-second, the fire that flooded her as shocking as her near tragedy.
    Clenching her fingers in the front of his shirt, she shuddered, too many sensations bombarding her at once. Terror still made her shake, but God, she was plastered against him from breast to thigh and her nerve endings rioted. Every inch of her reacted to him. Her skin flushed, her nipples tightened to thrust against her bra and the folds of her sex went hot and slick.
    Somehow, she had known it would be this intense. If standing next to him or cutting his hair could rev her up, being sandwiched between the hard wall and his hard body was enough to cause a nuclear meltdown.
    “I’m fine, thanks. You can let me go now.” It took everything ounce of willpower she had to gasp those two short sentences.
    His gaze locked on her lips as she spoke. “I can’t.”
    “What do you mean, you can’t? ” The words came out in a rush, almost tripping over each other.
    He drew in a deep breath, which rubbed her breasts against his chest. God, she could feel every ripple of muscle in his body. He was even better built than she’d imagined. “I can’t let you go when you’re looking at me like that. I’ve been dying to taste you for months, and I have to know what it’s like. I’m sorry.”
    Any response she might have made was smothered by his mouth. She tensed, waiting to be all but consumed, devoured, taken. It didn’t happen.
    His kiss was a gentle savoring. The way his body pressed her into the wall, hard enough to compress her ribs, became an erotic contrast to the sweetness of his lips on hers. His tongue teased her lower lip, easing into her mouth. The flavor of him exploded over her taste buds, headier than the champagne they’d drunk. Any resistance fled under the onslaught of yearning. She moaned, twining her tongue with his, fighting with him for control of the kiss.
    Straining against him, she writhed to get even closer. He groaned, releasing her mouth to string kisses down her jaw and throat. She let her head fall back against the wall, arching mindlessly when his teeth scored the sensitive tendon that connected neck to shoulder.
    “Mason, please.” She cupped the back of his head, holding him to her. His short hair prickled her palms, and she dug her nails into his scalp, desperate for more. “ More .”
    Unfastening the side zipper on her dress, he slipped his hand inside to stroke her ribs. She shivered, her nipples pinching tight. She wanted his mouth on them, but she couldn’t make her mind and her tongue work together to form the demand.
    Slipping down to bracket her hips with his palms, he gathered her dress one handful at a time. His fingertips brushed her skin, tracing the edge of her panties. Her flesh burned everywhere their bodies met, her pussy weeping juices. It was too much, and not enough, all at the same time. The more he touched her, the more she craved it. Him.
    “I want you, Celia. Now.” His arms went around her again, pulling her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist, mating her sex with his through their clothing. His palms curved under her ass, squeezing the soft globes and making her squirm against him. He groaned and staggered down the rest of the stairs. Each step rubbed his cock over her pussy, and her core contracted on an emptiness that needed to be filled.
    The couch cushions were soft under her back as he laid her there. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the champagne bottle protruding out of one of the silver bowls. It was chilling on ice, and two glasses sat beside it. Turning her head, she saw strawberries in another dish and some of the hors d'oeuvres from the party piled in another. The final bowl was filled with a