If the Shoe Fits Read Online Free Page B

occasions.
    What did one talk about while kissing? Well, nothing if lips and tongue were otherwise engaged, of course. But the whole rest of the time… silence? Idle chat? Sarah looked down at her lap and smiled to herself. She was more worried about topics of conversation than the actual doing of the deed.
    “What are you smiling about?”
    “Nothing. Just thinking about how much or how little to talk, and if so, about what—”
    And then there was no more talking.
    Devon’s right hand, which had been idly resting against the cold glass of the car window, reached across to Sarah’s mouth. He dragged his thumb across her lower lip, his skin transferring an exhilarating chill. He moved it back and forth. Maniacally slow. And that other hand was still making those lazy tracks along her left breast.
    His thumb went tentatively into her mouth, tugging on the soft inside of her lower lip as he slowly pulled it out. “Your lips are insanely gorgeous, you know. I kept trying to decide where to look at you tonight. So many excellent parts…”
    She closed her eyes and gave mental thanks to all that was holy that she would not have to come up with a single topic of discussion for many hours to come. If this was how it was going to go, he could just talk and talk. Her body responded to his voice like it responded to his touch, with deep, warm waves of pleasure.
    When his full lips touched her for the first time, it was right at the base of her neck. “Like this part,” he whispered with that delectable British accent, husky and prim somehow. “It is just a simple” (kiss) “meeting of neck and shoulder” (kiss) “but there’s something utterly delightful” (sucking kiss) “about the way it all fits together.”
    The kissing on the neck, the finger in the mouth, the hand along the breast.
    Sarah started to laugh.
    Devon stopped everything. “What is so funny?”
    “Please don’t stop,” she whispered, putting her hand at the back of his neck, the crisp fold of his shirt collar catching into the strong neck, then the silky fine hair, then her hands were wandering on their own.
    “Are you laughing at me?” he pressed.
    “No, I was laughing at me. Why would I be laughing at you? You are making me feel better than I’ve—well, better than I’ve felt in a very long time.”
    He didn’t seem satisfied; clearly, the Royal International Seduction Society did not take kindly to real or perceived slights.
    Or mockery.
    “If you must know”—Sarah let her hand drop from behind his neck and folded both of her hands into a prim clasp in her lap—“I was enumerating… pleasures… thumb in mouth… lips on neck… hand near breast… I suppose I was narrating .”
    Devon shook his disobedient light brown hair out of his face with an efficient jerk and moved to look out the window again as the limo turned into the entrance of Sarah’s hotel, then he shifted back to meet her questioning look. “I like you.” The way he said it hinted at a strange combination of gratitude and reluctance. How was she to know he hadn’t actually liked someone in a very long time?
    He gave her a perfunctory kiss on the lips that would have passed the ratings board in any G movie and hopped out of the car as it rolled to a stop in front of the extensive forecourt of the Relais & Châteaux country castle hotel. Before Sarah got her bearings, Devon had spoken quickly with the chauffeur and was standing at attention next to Sarah’s open car door. “My lady,” he said, proffering one gloved hand to help her out.
    “My lord,” she replied, then smiled up at him as she exited the car and unconsciously licked her upper lip, which had gone inexplicably dry.
    He pulled her into an embrace, gripping his arms firmly around her waist and nuzzling into her hair. He whispered into her ear, “If you are prone to narration, I had better keep this lively,” and with that, he grabbed her bottom in both hands and gave her a delicious squeeze, then