Happy Mother's Day! - By Sharon Kendrick Page 0,177
different. Because James was different. Different enough from every man she had ever known that he made her feel more, and want more, and desire more from her life than she ever had before.
She suddenly wanted to throw herself into his arms and not let go. But she couldn’t. Not yet. No matter how far her hopes and desires had taken her over in these last few days, her conditioning was still fighting against them.
‘Since we are confessing tonight,’ he said, and Siena had the feeling he had moved even closer to her than he had been earlier.
She moved ever so slightly backward and her back bumped against the solid willow trunk.
‘Now is probably the time to let you know that I listened in at the door when you were talking to Kane about your mum.’
Before she could stop herself she let forth a great bellowing, self-aggrandising, ‘You what?’
She bit her lip, waiting for the noise to stop echoing in the suburban cul-de-sac.
He laughed so hard he had to lean his hand beside her head on the tree trunk. It was a great rolling uproarious laugh that she felt rumbling through her.
Siena thought back on all the things she had said to Kane, about her own private hopes and fears and self-doubt, and how much she had revealed about her elevated feelings for James.
No wonder he had come with flowers!
‘You were eavesdropping?’ she asked, her indignation obvious. ‘And remember you snooped through my PDA that first day too! I should have seen this coming.’
But James only laughed again. ‘You think you have any right to complain? You read my private blog. That’s way worse than eavesdropping. Fifty, sixty per cent worse, at least.’
He was right. They were just as bad as each other. Made for each other.
She shook her head and realised his hand was still resting beside her head. If she tipped her face sideways she would be able to snuggle into his strong wrist.
‘My reasons were altruistic,’ she said, her stubbornness fading as she felt the chill seep from her bones as his natural warmth enveloped her.
‘Mine weren’t,’ he said, his eyes now filled with a fire she had never seen there before.
And, pretty certain that she wasn’t in her right mind any more, she dropped the hand holding the bouquet to her side, reached up with her spare hand, grabbed a handful of his blue sweater and pulled him hard towards her.
It felt as though James had been waiting his whole life for this moment—the moment this woman was able to get past her stubbornness to make the first move.
He leaned in without resistance, his lips crushing against hers, hot, insistent, dissolving him from the inside out. Her skin was so soft and creamy, she tasted of toothpaste and heat.
Her other hand crept around his neck, dangling his now squished roses down his back as she pulled him closer and closer still, pressing her body against his. He pressed back and felt her breasts crushed against his chest.
Oh, Lord. She had nothing on beneath that soft top of hers. He took her around the waist, so thin, his hand burning against the hot skin of her lower back, his little finger diving beneath the elastic of those hot red pyjama bottoms.
She reached higher on tiptoe. Without those insane red high heels of hers she was so small. So delicate. So fine …
His whole body thrummed with excitement that they were actually together, and not just together, but kissing like he hadn’t since he was an oversexed teenager.
He stole a hand behind her head, diving into those tempting curls as he had wanted to since that first afternoon. He held her, gentle yet uncompromising. She was exactly where he wanted her, and he was sure that she couldn’t have pulled away from his loose grip for all the world.
He buzzed—until he realised that so did his pocket.
‘Your phone …’ Siena murmured against his lips.
‘Ignore it.’ He trailed kisses along the edge of her mouth, but he knew she was already pulling back.
‘James …’ she said, the word torn from her as she did what he couldn’t and pushed a hand against his chest, breaking the last tenuous strands of their luxurious embrace.
He stepped back, took a deep breath, rubbed a frustrated hand over his hair, then dived into his pocket for his phone.
‘It’s home,’ he said, his face contorting into a tight frown. What was Kane up to now?