Wild Fling or a Wedding Ring? Read Free Page A

delving into the warm depths of her mouth, he stroked in a wet velvet rub against her teeth, tongue and lips, thrusting and retreating in an erotic, suggestive rhythm.
    Cali responded, clasping her arms tighter, molding her firm breasts and flat belly against his hips and chest.
    Urgency ripped through him. His hand fisted in the fabric at the waist of her skirt and she moaned around his plundering tongue, a quiet, mewling sound that nearly had himyanking her skirt above her hips. Shocked by his own response, he tore away from the heated embrace. Stared down into Cali’s flushed face.
    He wanted her naked and beneath him the next time she made that sound.
    Forcing the words out, he said, “Let’s get out of here.”
    Breathless, she peered up at him, agony in her eyes. “I can’t. I— Couldn’t we—?” Her smoky gaze fixed on his mouth as the tightening in his gut became painful. “Just one minute more?”
    The way her eyes went all warm and soft and needy—he’d have given her anything she asked for at that moment. He wanted to be inside her, but this gorgeous girl who hadn’t been kissed for so long didn’t want it to go that way. Hell, the strain of a few more minutes probably wouldn’t kill him. And even if they did, it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.
    “Oh, yeah,” he murmured, hauling her up against him so her feet lifted from the floor. He maneuvered them around the corner, to where the hinged door of the phone booth provided a modicum of privacy. Pulling her into the booth, barely large enough for them to stand side by side, he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Just one more minute.”
    Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as she pulled him back to her. “Thank God.”
    Cali was a woman possessed. It couldn’t go further than this. She was treading on dangerous ground as it was, but, heaven help her, she couldn’t give up the decadence of this stolen moment.
    It might have been three years since she’d last been kissed, but she could say with all certainty she’d never in her life had a lip-lock like this one. A mind-numbing, moral-melting mainline into pleasure. His taste, touch and scent thrummed through her veins, so quickly and so thoroughly addictive the idea of breaking free was physically painful, mentally incomprehensible.
    What harm could come from just a few more innocuous minutes of indulgence?
    Strong hands ran in a crisscross down her back, until one wide palm pressed over her bottom, pulling her into closer contact with the hard contours of his body.
    How could anything feel so right?
    Grabbing her thighs, he hoisted her up. Her skirt bunched as her legs wrapped around his hips. Her shoulders braced against the wall as he rocked against that throbbing, long-neglected spot of need. Fingers of sensation stroked through her middle, tugging the strings of desire dangerously taut.
    It was good. Too good to give up so fast. Just another minute like this and she’d stop. Leave. Run. But not yet.
    “Oh, God!” she gasped when his hips ground forward again, rasping rough denim and damp lace against her achy sex.
    Some distant part of her mind screamed a frantic warning.
    She had rules about this sort of thing.
    But their position was too perfect, the contact just right, and she was halfway to satisfaction already.
    Jake’s mouth tore free from her lips, his blue flame gaze searing over her as his breath punched free in ragged bursts. “Tell me to stop,” he gritted out, his hips moving in a steady rhythm so good she couldn’t have told him to stop if her life had depended on it.
    On some level she knew he was right. One of them was going to have to come to their senses, and instinctively she understood the burden fell on her shoulders. But why the hell did it always have to be the girl?
    As exciting and amazing as it was, they were in a bar.
    In a phone booth.
    Her eyes blinked open, her gaze flitting over the small confines of their space.
    A phone booth with a wooden shuttered and