The Thunderbolt - Lori Wilde Page 0,16

poked out her tongue, urging his lips to part, to allow her entry.

Eagerly, he complied.

She slipped her tongue into the warm, moist recesses of his mouth, and she inhaled his sigh.

He smelled heavenly and tasted even better, a soothing mixture of poppy seeds, soap, and homemade bread. His flavor reminded Lacy of her great-grandmother’s kitchen.

Great-Gramma Kahonachek had come to America from her native Czechoslovakia back before it was the Czech Republic. She canned her own pickles, baked her own yeast bread, and made her own soap.

Why Bennett Sheridan should smell like that unusual concoction, Lacy didn’t know, but the aroma produced in her the warm, welcoming sensations of home.

Home.

Yes. She’d found home in his arms.

Greedily, Lacy drank from him. At last. At long last. Her fantasy man come to life.

Her eyes drifted closed as she rode the rising wave of euphoria. The sensation transported her far beyond the bar and into a place so magical she’d have sworn she was dreaming.

Bennett’s mouth roved over hers, deepening the kiss. He hoisted her flush against his firm chest. Even through their clothing she could feel the rapid-fire pounding of his heart.

He was so strong, so virile. He made her feel as treasured as a five-year-old’s favorite teddy bear.

Everything in her responded. Her nipples hardened. Her breathing quickened.

Blood rushed to the surface of her skin, bathing her in exquisite heat. An intense wave of longing crested deep inside her.

Lacy had never known it could be like this. This all-encompassing love, this crazy, cockeyed thrill, this incredible sense of rightness.

There was no doubt in her mind that Bennett Sheridan was her other half, her soul mate, her true love, even if he couldn’t admit it yet. He was too caught up in his career, too worried about hurting her to take a chance on love, but Lacy knew better. She would use any means at her disposal to win him over, including pretending to be something she wasn’t.

He would forgive her in the end. He had no choice. The thunderbolt had struck.

Bennett Sheridan was a goner.

Kissing Lacy was like taking the express elevator straight to heaven. She lifted him up, gave his soul wings.

Adrenaline and testosterone shot through his system, propelling him to a level of arousal usually reserved for sex-starved teenage boys. He was flying, gliding on top of the world. Unfortunately, that only meant he faced a long downward plunge.

His head reeled. His gut clenched. His loins flamed. His heart hammered. And all for want of this wild little blonde thrashing madly about in his arms.

He had to break the kiss, had to get fresh air, had to do something before he ravished her right there on the table. Gasping, he wrenched his mouth from hers.

Applause broke out around them, and Bennett found himself blushing. He had never been so turned on in public.

Ever.

He prided himself on being a rational man, fully in control of himself and his actions, and yet in one brief moment, Lacy Calder had stripped him of his illusion. He was no better than a wild stag in the woods rutting for a willing doe.

His fingers were trembling. He jammed them through his hair and struggled desperately to correct the imbalance that knocked his world out of kilter.

Lacy was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling fast as a rabbit’s, her cute backside resting in his lap.

Had she felt his arousal? Was she aware of exactly what she’d done to him? How could she not know? The evidence was as obvious as the nose on his face.

What an unpredictable woman! When he had first stepped into the operating suite at Saint Madeleine’s and she’d barely mustered the courage to tell him her name, he had labeled her sweet, shy, and innocent.

A nice woman. The type of woman a guy took home to meet his mother. A happily-ever-after sort of woman.

A woman to avoid.

But Lacy Calder had fooled him.

Completely.

Apparently, she hid more behind that surgical mask than he could have guessed. Beneath that quiet, well-bred exterior lurked a lusty spirit.

Her kiss told him so.

The minute Lacy tumbled into his lap he’d known he was going to kiss her. He’d been fighting the urge for over a month.

And then their lips had met.

Bennett had been knocked down by the flood of her fervor. Her lips met his with an intensity that caught him off guard and kept him there.

Ravenously, he had embraced the delightful shock of her. Lacy had been the one to introduce tongues into the fray, not he,