Seduced by the Scrum-Half (Strathstow Sharks) (2 page)

What the hell was wrong with her? He’d attacked her for heaven’s sake, pinned her to the floor. She should be calling the cops and suing him for assault. So why did she want him to do it again?

“Do what again?” His deep voice sounded loud in the small kitchen as he boosted her up onto the nearest counter, careful to maintain a small distance now, and its low tones did something to her stomach deep down. Shit, she didn’t realize she’d said that aloud.

“Err… nothing.”

She swallowed as he put a finger under her chin and lifted it. The snap of the light switch flicking on made her wince, but he wouldn’t let her pull away. Instead, he frowned as he looked into her eyes. Hell, he was still taller even when she was sat on the counter. His touch was gentle as he looked into her eyes, the expression on his face open and honest. A sense of safety surrounded her, which made her want to smile. She stopped when she realized she was listing to the side and grinning like a damn idiot. She was never drinking again. Ever.

“Hmmm, doesn’t look like you have a concussion. Did you hit your head when y…err, we fell?”

He was a giant. That was the only explanation. What the hell was a giant doing in a sleepy English village?

He chuckled, amusement dancing in his blue-grey eyes. “I’m not a giant. You're just little. Very little.”

Indignation rose as well as embarrassment. Crap, she’d definitely had too much to drink if she couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself. “I am not! I’m…petite.”

“Very petite. And curvy.” His voice dropped lower as he moved closer. He hadn’t let go of her chin, and his smile was devastating. His eyes switched from cool grey to warm granite, like a summer storm over the ocean. “I like it. I like it a lot.”

God, there was a lot she liked as well. Her gaze dropped to his lips. They were full and curved, surprisingly sensual in such a masculine face. He lifted her chin further, a frown twisting his brow.

“I don’t care if you have a gang ready to jump me,” he muttered. “It’ll be worth it.”

Gang? What was he going on about? Before she could ask, he kissed her. The brush of his lips over hers was electric, holding her still as though she’d been zapped by a stun gun. Warm and firm, his lips moved over hers. Caressing. Molding.

Her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. Without thinking, she lifted her hand to rest lightly on his upper arms. Solid muscle met her touch, the latent strength in his body thrilling her. He was so big and powerful. It triggered all her traitorous female instincts. The ones that wanted to be a damsel in distress and for her knight in shining armor to come and rescue her.

She relaxed, kissing him back and was rewarded with a groan. His hand, large and strong, drove into her hair as he deepened the kiss. His tongue parted her lips to drive within, and she welcomed him, a whimper in her throat at the first thrust. Oh my, he knew how to kiss. Like
really
knew how to kiss.

Gathering her closer, he drank from her mouth, easing his tongue along hers, then pulling away to nibble at her lips. He teased and tempted before driving in to claim her lips with a thoroughness that stole her breath.

Shivers worked their way outward from the butterflies in her stomach to heat her blood. She inched forward until there was no room between them and slid her arms up so she could run her fingers through his hair. She should have been worried, after all, he had attacked her, pinned her to the floor…but she couldn’t think. Didn’t want to think. Not if it meant stopping the delicious kiss.

The heat from his body beat at her, an inferno that worked its way through her clothing when he stepped closer. Pressed together, her breasts were mashed against the broadness of his chest and further down the thick length of his cock pressed against the juncture of her thighs. She gasped, the sound lost as he slid into her mouth again. Shit, he was big. Like
oh-my-God-take-me-to-heaven
big and then some.

“Fuck!”

He yanked his mouth away, breathing heavily, to look at her. His blue-grey eyes were wide, the pupils dilated with desire. Raw hunger tightened his expression. She liked that, liked to see the emotions flit over his face. So many guys hid their feelings which irritated the hell out of her. Not this one though.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” A faint hint of anger colored his voice, and that just set her off.

“Huh? Me?” She ignored the fact that technically she’d been trespassing. “What the hell are
you
doing attacking defenseless women?”

“Sweetheart, if you’re defenseless, I’m a monkey’s uncle.” His voice lowered as his hand tightened in her hair again. Not hard, just enough to make a thrill roll along her spine and a whimper rise to her lips. Lord, she was wrong in the head, but that felt
so
good.

She resisted the feeling to glare at him. “Yeah? Really? So explain how I get out of some maniac pinning me to a counter?”

His eyes glittered dangerously. “One look, just one word from that pretty little mouth and you’d have any man on his knees, a slave to your every whim. A saint would struggle to resist you, and honey, I’m nowhere near sainthood.”

No, no saint. He was a devil. His words wrapped a spell around her as she imagined just that, him on his knees in front of her. She held the shiver in as bone-melting heat rolled through her. She could imagine him on his knees and all the delicious things that could happen with him in that position, but submissive? No, that she couldn’t imagine. Biding his time, yes, but submissive, no.

Tension drew the air tight between them, awareness crawling over every inch of her skin as their gazes locked. His lips parted, the tiny intake of breath inflating his broad chest. He was as aware of her as she was of him.

“A slave, huh?” She tipped her chin up in challenge. “So how about you let me go then, since I’m the one in charge here?”

Darkness flooded his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he closed in. “Why? Do you want me to let you go?”

Oh dear God. No, not at all
. “Yeah…”

He smiled, just the tiniest quirk of his lips.

“On one condition.”

She frowned as he lowered his head again. “That’s not how this works if you’re the slave.”

“I didn’t say anything about being a slave, beautiful.” His lips hovered a few millimeters above hers. So close she could almost feel them moving as he spoke. An ache hit her hard and fast, her eyes beginning to flutter closed. He had to kiss her again. She
needed
him to kiss her again. “I said enslaved to your every whim, there’s a difference.”

Like hell there was, but she couldn’t get it together enough to argue. Not with him wrapping her up in his embrace, and her whole being crying out for his lips on hers again.

“And right now, your reactions are telling me you want me to kiss you again.”

No shit, Sherlock
. She managed not to blurt out the sharp retort, instead leaning into him.

What had gotten into her, she had no clue. She didn’t normally react like this around men. She was “play it safe” Daisy. No action until she’d been seeing a guy a couple of months. More than one had quit before they’d reached that mark, telling her that she was frigid and unnatural for not putting out within a couple of weeks.

Right now though, she didn’t feel like playing it safe.

The temptation of her upturned lips was just too much for Will. With a groan, he swooped in and claimed them again. She was tiny, curvy, and fit in his arms like a dream. Her lips were soft and clung to his. There was no coyness or pretense in her response. She kissed him with a fire and passion which fed his own.

The groan of need rumbled up from the center of his chest. It had been months since he’d taken a woman to bed. Shit, had to be over a year now. Not since he’d split up with his ex. Before the memory of another woman could surface and ruin the moment, he clamped down on the thought and concentrated on the spitfire in his arms.

She wriggled against him as he deepened the kiss, her lithe movements driving him almost to the edge of his control. Who cared that she’d broken into his house to rob it? She’d certainly bitten off more than she could chew with him. If she’d come here to steal, then he could take something in return. Or get her to give it up.

Conscience assuaged, he moved in for the kill. One hand was already in her hair, so he slid the other around the curve of her waist and spread his fingers over the small of her back. A quick yank brought her up flush against his body, and he eagerly swallowed her little cry of surprise.

His cock throbbed where it was trapped between them, barely constrained by the thin cotton of his boxers. She had pants on, but it would take less than a second to lean her over the counter and pull them over her lush hips so he could bury himself balls deep.

The shiver of heat at the thought almost stole what little remained of his control, but he kept control through force of will. He wasn’t some animal concerned only about his own pleasure and needs. Yeah, so she’d planned to steal from him, but she was still a human being.

Slowing his pace, he drank from her lips, using his hands to stroke along her curves. She was a delicious little armful, with the sort of full curves he preferred. Not stick thin, so he didn’t have to worry about breaking her if he so much as looked at her the wrong way. No, his spitfire was built for loving. If he was lucky, she’d even like it a little rough. Lava flowed through his veins at the thought. God, he hoped so.

A slide of his hand had her spine arching, breasts pressing harder into his chest. He cursed the layers of her clothes between them. Some kind of suit. Odd outfit for a burglar. He broke away from her lips, and trailed a line of kisses along her jaw as he worked the jacket off her shoulders. A groan escaped him as he found and traced the dainty line of her collarbone. She was exquisite, both in her build and her reactions. Each stroke of his fingers, each brush of his lips, drew a reaction and her soft, sexy little gasps near drove him to distraction.

The jacket hit the floor by his feet, and he went to work on her shirt. White and silky it clung in all the right places, outlining her assets like a jealous lover. He popped the buttons, his efforts aided when she sucked a ragged breath in, the fabric straining over her ample breasts. Breasts he ached to touch, to explore and test in his hands to see if they were the perfect fit he suspected.

The fabric parted like butter under a hot knife, and then he had his hands underneath to ease it off her shoulders. She shivered, tilting her head to the side in invitation, one he wasn’t slow in taking up. His lips grazed along the line of her neck, nibbling and kissing, as he reached up to cup her. The plain bra was…

White.

Fuck.

The details didn’t so much filter through the sensual haze in his mind as much as slam into him with the force of a freight-train. Burglars wore black, didn’t they? At least they did in all the TV shows he’d watched, which could be total bollocks as far as he knew. But, why, if she was robbing the place, was she dressed for the office?

He dropped her like she was a hotcake and stepped away. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

She blinked, the dazed look in her eyes rapidly sharpening. “Are we on some kind of replay? We did that bit already.”

Crap. He ran his hand through his hair. What the hell was he doing? He had a hot as hell woman in his kitchen, a hot as hell,
half-naked
woman in his kitchen, and he was doing what? Not kissing her, that’s what. He was a fucking idiot.

“I’m sorry. I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.” He looked around, noting the letters scattered over the floor. Mail. She’d had them in her hand when he’d tackled her. Shitshitshit
shit
. “You’re not here to rob the place, are you?”

She grabbed the front of her shirt, covering herself, and the look she shot his way clearly said she thought he’d lost his mind. “What? Rob… Why would I rob my own neighbor? In fact, why don’t
you
tell me what you’re doing here? You can’t squat here. I’ll call the police and get you evicted.”

“I am
not
a squatter. Wait, what? You’re my neighbor?" Oh God. This was worse than he’d thought. Why had he thought she’d be part of the silver-set? She was young, and hot. Very hot. Fuckably hot.

“So what are you doing collecting mail at—” He checked the clock on the oven. “Two-thirty in the morning?”

Her face echoed the horror that had rolled through him a moment ago. “
You
bought the house? When? Where is all your furniture?”

She slid off the counter, her hands shaking as she tried to button her shirt. The primal male part of him snarled as the delectable sight of her breasts was covered. He concentrated on her face instead, and totally ignored the hard-on tenting his boxers. You’d have thought the shock of the situation would have had it deflating like a popped birthday balloon but no, the damn thing had a mind of its own.

“Okay, this went all wrong from the get-go. Let’s start again, shall we?” He held out his hand and introduced himself with a smile. “I’m Will Peters. I just moved in. Mind if I borrow a cup of sugar?”