The Affair: Week 2

The Affair: Week 2

by Beth Kery

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780698150843
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Publication date: 09/23/2014
Series: The Affair , #2
Sold by: Penguin Group
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 76
Sales rank: 339,448
File size: 534 KB

About the Author

Beth Kery loves romance, and the more emotionally laden and sexy the romance, the better. She holds a doctorate degree in the behavioral sciences and enjoys using her knowledge of human nature to add depth and intensity to her stories. Kery is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than 30 novels.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter Six

He didn’t know why he’d done it. He’d ordered himself to steer clear of trouble. True, he’d been thinking about Emma Shore a lot. So much so, in fact, that he’d cautioned himself to stay away. She wasn’t for him—something so fresh and unexpected for something so jaded and tired?

He didn’t think so.

He wasn’t denying his lechery toward her; it wasn’t that. That was impossible to deny. His sleepless night had been haunted by her form. Her smile. Her eyes.

It was like being a teenager all over again, his mind obsessed with graphic, imagined sexual scenarios, his body burning like it hadn’t in a decade. He’d masturbated repeatedly like a teenager, that much was certain. As unpleasant as unrequited lust was, it strangely felt like he was coming to life again. His body was prickly with sensation, primed with need.

But it hadn’t been biting lust that had made him step forward and take Emma Shore into his arms. It had been instinct. Maybe it was the fact that her pale, delicate face and dark eyes held so much bewilderment and hurt. Or maybe it was seeing the way she fought like crazy to contain that pain. It’d wrecked him a little, that expression, like seeing the face of a good, strong child who had just been uncharacteristically backhanded by a loved one.

She didn’t feel like a child. She felt good against him, slender and svelte, firm and supple beneath his stroking hand. Her head cuddled against his chest, the gesture striking him as natural. Sweet. He glanced down and saw that small spray of freckles across the bridge of her adorable nose. Those freckles epitomized the paradox in her that he found compelling: freshness and raw sensuality. He could smell the light, fruity smell of her golden hair and wanted to touch the soft waves. A shudder went through her, and he stroked the length of her spine, wanting to give comfort but feeling woefully inadequate to the task. He sensed all the emotion trapped inside her. It seemed to resonate into his hands until he felt like he held it—her confusion, her pain. He didn’t like feeling it, but he hoped he lessened it for her by absorbing it, so he didn’t let go.

A tightness grew in his chest, but he couldn’t say why. It had something to do with how unexpected she was, or the sharp knowledge that a girl with a smile that could light up a room could ever be sad. Life really was a cruel, ruthless bitch if it could randomly lash out at someone like her, at something so fine and undeserving.

His fingers stretched, mapping the beautiful curves he’d admired in the past that led from her narrow waist to her hips. How incredible it would be to sink into the sweetness of her taut little body, to watch her troubled expression transformed by bliss.

His cock stiffened with unprecedented vigor.

Irritation spiked through him. How foul could he be to have the urge to fuck rise up in him like a striking snake in this situation? He despised the evidence that he was no better than his father, but didn’t darkness and selfishness beget the same?

He knew she’d felt his cock harden. It was hard to disguise the evidence, as close as they stood. She stiffened against him, but almost immediately softened, pressing tighter to him, her hips pressing closer, as if she wanted to feel the contours of his arousal.

“Emma?” he asked warily, not fully trusting his senses, all too aware of the lust boiling just beneath his surface, straining to erupt.

Her whispered “yes” was so sweet, he couldn’t resist leaning down to taste her acquiescence on his tongue.

* * *

It was a like being abruptly plunged into a pool of boiling sensation. His mouth shaped her flesh to his, a firm, insistent master. His hands molded just as his lips did, pressing her flesh against his. He groaned and dipped his knees, aligning them. Emma cried out softly at the exquisite feeling of his groin fitting between the juncture of her thighs. As if he’d sensed the give in her flesh, he penetrated her mouth with his tongue at the same moment that he pressed his sex to hers. Emma flamed high at his stark possession. She grasped at his shoulders and strained closer, wanting more, tangling her tongue with his.

The sweet residue of a peppermint candy or gum lingered in his mouth, but beneath it, she tasted something else, something complex, intoxicating and new. He seemed just as fascinated by her taste. His sleek tongue explored her thoroughly, the primal edge to his hunger sending a thrill streaming through her veins. His hand opened at her middle back as he leaned down over her, his kiss seguing into a dark demand. She bowed her spine, answering his call, pressing her hips closer to his erection, circling slightly. His hand lowered to her ass, cupping her against him even more firmly. He groaned roughly, his teeth finding her lower lip and scraping it between them. A jolt of electrical arousal went through her at the evidence of his arousal. Somehow, his kiss was more exciting than any full-out sex she’d ever experienced.

His kiss. That’s all. It was all of that: hot, mind-blowing, addictive to a degree that it should be considered illegal . . . so good, that she gasped in acute displeasure when he abruptly tore his mouth from hers.

“You should go,” he said stiffly.

“I don’t want to go,” she replied breathlessly, staring at his mouth, her hunger awakened. Rabid.

“Only a selfish asshole would take advantage of you when you’re this upset. I am selfish. But I don’t want to be. Not with you,” he bit out viciously.

Her well-kissed mouth hung open. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. “I think I need this.”

“You’ll regret it later.”

“I’ll regret stopping,” she corrected without pause. She studied his rigid features. “Please don’t tell me what I want or need. I’ll decide for myself.” Even though he’d stopped kissing her, he still held her fast. His heavy erection throbbed into her, his strength.

His vulnerability.

She put her hand at the back of his head, her fingers delving into his hair. It felt even more arousing than she’d imagined, to touch the thick waves. She pulled him to her. He came reluctantly.

But he came.

She kissed his slight frown, coaxing him. Softening him. She glanced into his eyes cautiously as she nibbled at his firm mouth. His gaze blazed down at her. His utter stillness made her wary, but excited her as well. She ran her tongue delicately along the inner lining of his lower lip, and felt the shudder in his body.

“Fuck it,” he said, before he seized her mouth and sealed it to his.

His tongue plunged between her lips at the same moment that he turned her, urged her . . . taking control. Her ass and back thumped against the hard surface of a car. He pressed her to it tighter with his body. She burned for a moment between the two hard surfaces and beneath his voracious kiss. Distantly, she heard a metallic click. He lifted his head and stared down at her.

“Get in,” he said. She looked around dazedly and saw that he held open the door to the backseat of the beautiful luxury sedan. It was a challenge he’d growled so softly.

It was a challenge she was more than willing to meet.

Her heart slamming against her breastbone, she pried herself away from his pinning body and walked around him. The only movement he made was the slight give in his body as he released her. She looked at him before she sat in the car. He watched her by moving only his eyes, holding his head immobile, his facial features pulled tight. Once she was inside the car, she scooted over on the seat, glancing around anxiously.

It was some kind of vintage luxury vehicle, the likes of which she’d never before seen. The name Bentley had come to mind earlier, but she didn’t know if that was the correct name of the car or not. Her imagination supplied a vision of some 1950s, fur-draped movie star being driven by a chauffeur to a glamorous red-carpet event in a similar car. The seat was very long by today’s car standards, and was made of decadently soft, ivory-colored leather. The dashboard looked like it was made of tortoiseshell.

She fleetingly noticed these details before his body blocked the light from the garage in the open door, and he was sliding onto the seat next to her. The door shut. She’d thought the interior of the car unusually large until he was in it with her. His presence made her feel as if she was secreted in a small, dim place with him . . . trapped, but excitingly so.

“Come here,” he said grimly, reaching for her. She went into his arms, eager to be submerged in his heat again. He leaned down and met her kiss, immediately taking control of it. She whimpered softly into his mouth, melting. This is what he did, some befuddled part of her brain acknowledged. He turned women to goo. His seductions were as easy and practiced as his mechanical ability around cars. The realization didn’t bother her at that moment. His expertise was what she required. What she needed.

Even though his kiss was a firm, hot delight, he’d reined himself in during the interim when she’d gotten into the car. She loved his mouth’s making love to her with such consummate, toe-curling heat and skill, but she longed to feel the sharp edge of his desire again. She sealed their kiss and turned her head, brushing their mouths together experimentally, nibbling, learning his shape and texture. His scent penetrated her awareness—clean skin, a remnant of his spicy cologne, a hint of motor oil. Familiar. Thrilling. Wonderful.

She plucked at his lips with curious ardor, but he remained utterly still. Chained. Her fingers sunk into his hair—thick, gorgeous man-hair. Need clawed at her insides, lust like she’d never experienced it. Her fingernails scraped his scalp forcefully.

His low, guttural groan sent another sharp thrill through her. His hands bracketing her waist, he leaned down over her, his tongue piercing her mouth. He pulled her against him roughly. Her back arched, her breasts crushing against him, yet he wasn’t close enough. His tongue swept the depths of her mouth, as if claiming it as his territory. He applied a suction that she felt in the far reaches of her body—her nipples, her belly, the very core of her.

Fisting his thick hair, she pulled him closer with knuckles on his skull. He groaned in rough dissatisfaction, and she thought she knew why. They couldn’t get any closer in their sitting position.

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