Monica Morgan is off limits. One-hundred percent untouchable.
He nods, not put off by my refusal to tell him my name. His blue eyes stare into mine, and I am hypnotized. His intense gaze sets my body on fire, and his lips—god, they’re full. As he bites his lower lip, I get the urge to bite it, too. I watch those lips curve into a knowing, sexy grin then my gaze moves from his mouth to his eyes and I feel myself flush. Electricity sparks hot between us, and my body feels like a live wire.
His big hands splay across my back and he leans down to talk directly into my ear. “Can I kiss you?”
I nod and lean up to meet his mouth with mine. Soft—his lips are so soft. His fingers thread into my hair and he pulls me even closer. My eyes flutter shut and I’m lost, my world reduced to the feel of his lips pressing into mine, gently at first, then hungrily.
His tongue licks against my lips and I open my mouth, our tongues tangling. My fingers find their way up his neck and I allow myself to touch his face. Mmmm, his stubble is soft. God, everything about this guy feels good. We kiss and kiss and I feel boneless, breathless. I’m clutching at him and he’s gripping me tight. It’s like his mouth is a magnet pulling me to him.
He makes me forget that we’re in a crowded club. That I’m a respectable physician in charge of a department. That I don’t need a man to be happy. That I usually feel as if I’m juggling a million pieces in the air every day and if I don’t stay on top of everything, all the pieces will come tumbling down. I forget everything; his kiss melts it all away.
Instead, I feel….alive. Surrounded by this strong man, in his arms, practically fused to his mouth, I feel…safe. Electric and desired. Judging by the size of the erection rubbing my stomach from behind his jeans, he is as turned on as I am. We grind into each other, and his heart beats so fast I can feel it thump against my chest.
Soon enough, our bodies start to move in a way that mimics sex. His hands skim down my body, from my hips to my bare legs. His touch is hot, waking up each of the nerve endings in its path. He squeezes my thighs then starts trailing his fingers up again, feeling my bare skin. Up and up, his fingers reach the hem of my dress, and he inches it higher, exposing more skin. Both of his hands end up just under my ass, touching the elastic of my underwear.
Oh god. I’m so wet. Just one inch farther and he’ll be able to feel what he’s doing to me. I feel his groan rather than hear it, the vibration in his throat a pained sound. He rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, hands still touching me, toying with the edges of my panties.
“Can I touch you?” he rasps into my ear.
I should push him away. I should be appalled that a total stranger wants to feel me up in the middle of a crowded dance floor. I should disentangle myself from him right now and leave.
Isabel Love is a hopeless romantic. She loves reading about two people falling in love, overcoming whatever obstacles they may face, and finding their happily ever after. A husband, two kids, and a full-time job keep her busy by day, but by night, she can be found with her Kindle in hand, reading “just one more chapter”.