Cursed (Decorah Security #21) - Rebecca York Page 0,26

visibly relax. “Do you need to use my computer?”

“I can use my laptop. Do I need a network code?”

“I’ll give it to you.”

She stayed where she was on the patio, thinking about the question that had been hovering in her mind during the whole conversation. Are you sorry you asked me to come here?

That was too much of a challenge, she thought as she turned quickly back to the house. Just because she’d felt weird ever since she’d gotten here didn’t mean he felt the same.

She was too preoccupied to be watching where she was going, and when her foot caught on the edge of a brick, she started to pitch forward.

Andre moved quickly, catching her to keep her from hitting the edge of the doorway.

Neither of them spoke. He should turn her loose, or she should pull away. But the only move either of them made was for his arms to tighten around her and pull her closer.

She stayed where she was, lowering her head against his shoulder. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” she whispered.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she murmured. Secretly, she had wondered how she would react to being held by the real man again—after the intensity of her experience with the dream lover. The depth of her feelings shocked her. The dreams had thrown her off balance. But it wasn’t just that. She was feeling things with this man that she hadn’t felt for anyone in years.

As he cradled her in his arms, it seemed she had lost the will to act sensibly, at least for the moment. When she raised her head, he looked down at her, the question in his eyes as clear as if he had spoken to her in words.

And she answered with her eyes, because words were beyond her at the moment. They had known each other less than a day, yet a power beyond her comprehension drew them together.

Slowly, giving her time to change her mind, he lowered his mouth to hers. Maybe he intended the kiss to be gentle. It did start out sweet—even tender. But it took only seconds for it to change from sweet to sweltering.

Something happened. Something she couldn’t explain. She was back in the dream—yet not the dream. They were Andre and Linette.

No, Andre and Morgan. Andre and Linette. Andre and Morgan. She didn’t know who she was anymore.

The only thing she understood for sure was that she was engulfed by the sensation of his lips moving urgently against hers, his hands gliding up and down her back, the rich scent of his body.

The kiss melted her bones, made her cling to him to stay erect. Whoever she was—whoever they were—this man spoke to her in a primitive language well below any verbal level. But they both understood it.

When his tongue stroked along the seam of her lips, she opened for him, welcoming the more intimate contact that brought with it the essence of man and the hint of the maple syrup he’d eaten at breakfast. The taste of him was familiar to her. As his tongue explored the inside of her lips, her teeth, she was sure that she had done this with him before.

No not with him. In the dream.

She was still coping with confusion. But as he deepened the kiss, she felt the erotic sensation travel downward through her body, making her nipples tighten and her sex turn liquid.

How many months had it been before Linette had dared to let Andre kiss her this way?

How long before Linette had realized that she would make love with Andre, whether a priest had blessed their union or not?

Perhaps the directness of that thought was what brought her back to reality. Her hands shifted from this Andre’s neck to his shoulders—pushing him away instead of clinging. And somehow, she managed to get out one coherent syllable, “No.”

Chapter Six

Andre’s response was instantaneous. He let go of the woman in his arms, then took a step back, suddenly embarrassed on several different levels—starting with the erection that must certainly be standing out like a shovel handle against the fly of his slacks. Somehow, he resisted the urge to look down at his front as he thought about the slew of mistakes he had made in the past few minutes. He should never have gathered Morgan into his arms in the first place. And he should never have let her response to him unleash his own greed.

He was a disciplined man—as disciplined as he could