The Tycoon’s Stowaway
His hand skated around her hip, a finger slipping under the hem of her tank top to trace the line of skin above her shorts. She squeezed her legs together and willed the throbbing to stop. Clearly she had a little pent-up frustration to deal with, but that wasn’t an excuse to let Brodie unravel her.
Chantal spun back around and stepped out of his grip. The others had started to drift away. Kate and Scott had retired into the cabin; Amy and Jessica were finishing off the last of the bubbles and sat with their legs dangling over the edge of the boat. Willa was sitting next to them, her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear.
‘What are you going to do now, Little Miss Perfect?’
Brodie’s lips brushed her ear.
‘It’s just us.’
His fingertip traced from the base of her ear down her neck, until he plucked at the strap of her tank top. She burned all over with hot, achy, unfulfilled need. The music had been turned down but the bass still rumbled inside her, urging her to swing her hips and brush against him.
‘You’re taunting me.’
The unabashed arousal in his voice tore at the last shreds of her sanity, and with each throaty word she came further undone.
It had been so long since she’d been with anyone—so long since she’d experienced any kind of pleasure like this. Just one kiss…just one taste.
She turned, gathering all her energy to say no, but when his hands cupped her face the protest died on her lips. He came down to her with agonising slowness, and rather than crushing his mouth against hers he teased her with a feather-light touch.
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