Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,86

opening his eyes, those emerald depths ablaze.

“Well, that’s too bad, Mr. James. Because I’ve been living my own life and making my own choices for too long to change now. I know what I want.” She slowly curved her fingers around his arm, realized how taut his muscles were beneath the smooth, white cotton. “I know what I feel.”

He stared at her with that dangerous fire in his eyes. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I think I do.” She leaned closer, breathed against his lips the way she had learned from him, asking without words for his kiss. “I know what I want.”

“Samantha...” He said it like a warning, his body rigid. “No.”

“Yes, Nick,” she insisted. “Yes.”

She felt him tremble, heard him groan, a sound of anguish that seemed to come from the very depths of his being.

Then all at once, he circled her with his arms and pulled her against him. His mouth covered hers, plundering, hot.

And she abandoned herself to the fire in the moonlit darkness of Cannock Chase.

Chapter 18

Sam fell with him down into the leaves, her mind and her reason no longer in charge. Her heart made the decision, filled her with a rush of emotion stronger than any she’d ever felt. She responded hungrily to his kiss, held onto him as fiercely as he held her, grasping his hard-muscled arms. They sank onto the ground, the leaves crushed beneath them, the night air filling with the smells of earth and pine.

The worn fabric of her gown gave way beneath his impatient fingers and she didn’t care. She had saved her new clothes to wear on the morrow. With a groan, he tore the silk of her bodice, baring her to his kisses. Hot, open-mouthed kisses that sent fire twisting through her. Moaning his name, she arched her back, yielding to him, to everything he made her feel. With another impatient motion, he tore away her skirt and she was free of the last remnants of her lemon silk gown.

Pulse racing, she lay naked beneath him. Naked on the leaves but for the iron shackle around her ankle that bound her to him. She felt no shame, no shyness, aware only of the look in his eyes as he gazed down at her, the passion—and the tenderness. The wind surrounded them, warm and damp with the promise of rain, a summer wind that made the branches and the moonlight dance. He rose up on his knees, stripped off his shirt. His broad shoulders almost blocked the light as he remained poised above her for a moment, his breathing harsh.

Then she reached for him, every fiber of her being craving his warmth, his nearness. He lowered himself over her, muscles shifting as his powerful arms bracketed her body. She opened to his kiss, threading her fingers through his hair, savoring the sweet pressure of his mouth, the heat of his lips, the bristly texture of his beard against her chin. He glided his tongue along hers, the velvety friction sending whirls of sensation straight to the center of her body. She moaned at the intensity of the need she felt for him. The desire.

This was what it meant to feel desire. This raw ache, this longing to touch and be touched. This wildness. The power of it overwhelmed her. She ran her fingertips along the hard angle of his jaw, the corded muscles of his neck, the breadth of his chest and shoulders. He was made all of iron and steel, so strong and fierce and male... and yet she did not fear him.

It left her awestruck—the way he trembled at her touch, the knowledge that she affected him just as much as he affected her. He was so commanding, could face any danger with cool courage and boldness... yet she made him tremble. Every touch of her lips, every light brush of her fingertips sent a shudder through his hard body.

This gift he had given her, this new awareness of her own feminine power, took her breath away. It made her feel strong in a way she never had before—as strong and fierce and bold as he was.

She kissed his throat, feeling the throb of his pulse beneath her lips. And then she kissed the brand on his chest, so softly, his heart pounding against her mouth. She enfolded him in her arms, aware of his scars beneath her hands. So many marks of suffering... so much pain. She caressed them gently, wishing she could

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