Snowflakes on the Sea Read Free Page A

shivered as her panties, too, were lowered. Lips parted, she awaited loving that always bordered on the deliciously unendurable.
    Nathan nuzzled the silken shelter of her womanhood; the warm promise of his breath and his searching lips made her tremble. One plea broke past her resolve, and it took the shape of his name.
    Slowly, he revealed the small, yearning nubbin. In desperation, Mallory caught his head in both hands and thrust him to her. “Oh, God,” she breathed, mindless now in her wanting. “Oh, God, Nathan, please —”
    At the invitation he had purposely forced from her, Nathan partook hungrily of her, and his tender greed brought her to swift and searing release. She shuddered reflexively, her fingers moving in his hair, and moaned as he nibbled at her at his leisure, demanding a fiery encore to the performance just past.
    Bared to him, and so deliciously vulnerable, Mallory whispered words of gentle, desperate encouragement as he tormented the bit of quivering flesh with soft kisses. She writhed, gasped with delight, when he took his pleasure yet again, bringing his tongue into play this time, sampling her and then suckling as though to draw some sweet nectar from her. “Don’t—stop—” she pleaded, her wanting now as naked as her hips and her thighs and her stomach.
    He drew back, just slightly. “Sweet,” he whispered in a ragged voice, and then he enjoyed her in long, warm, delicious strokes of his tongue. Savage pleasure convulsed Mallory, and her triumph came in a cry that was half shout, half sob.
    It was then that, in the snowy silence outside, an engine roared. One car door slammed, and then another.
    Nathan swore harshly and straightened, while Mallory, cheeks burning, frantically righted her clothes. Feet were stomping heavily on the porch outside, and Cinnamon began to bark in somewhat belated alarm.
    “Just a minute!” Nathan growled, closing his eyes in an obvious effort to control his roiling emotions and frustrated need.
    As embarrassed as though the visitors had seen the impromptu love scene staged in the McKendrick kitchen, Mallory turned to the stove to hide her flaming face and occupy her hands with the task of brewing fresh coffee. After another moment of preparation, Nathan answered the door.
    “Oops!” Trish Demming blushed, sizing up the situation with her usual gentle shrewdness. “Alex, I think we interrupted something.”
    Trish’s good-natured, bespectacled husband pretended to rush for the door. He was Nathan’s accountant and one of his closest friends.
    “Sit down,” Nathan ordered humorlessly, and Mallory felt his hot gaze touch her rigid back. Out of the corner of one eye, she saw Trish set a covered baking dish down on the counter.
    It was several minutes before Mallory gathered enough composure to join the others at the kitchen table, and, even when she did, it was clear that Nathan wasn’t going to give her an easy time of it. His dark eyes seared her breasts whenever the opportunity afforded itself, and lingered on her lips until she thought she’d shout with frustration.
    Still, it was pleasant to spend time with dear friends, and Mallory genuinely enjoyed the lively conversation touching on everything from Nathan’s last concert tour to the ban on gathering oysters along the island’s rocky shores. Trish had brought one of her highly acclaimed peach cobblers, and they all ate a hefty slice with their coffee, Trish and Mallory bemoaning the astronomical calorie count.
    Mallory was fairly trembling with hidden exhaustion and anticipation when Trish began to make sincere noises about leaving. Good-byes were said, and the Demmings bundled up in their practical island coats and braved the snow piling up between the house and their car.
    Mallory and Nathan exchanged a look of resignation when they heard the car’s motor grind halfheartedly, and then die. Nathan’s eyes moved over Mallory’s body in a sweep of hungry promise, and then he swatted her gently