McIver's Mission Read Online Free Page B

promising start to a
friendship," he said.
    "I would think a friend would appreciate
honesty," she countered.
    He sipped from his cup. "I'm not finished with my
coffee."
    "Too bad. I have a busy day tomorrow and I need
to go to bed."
    "Now that brings to mind all kinds of interesting
possibilities," he said.
    A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "Go home,
McIver."
    "All right," he agreed, and drained the last
of his coffee.
    Arden
followed Shaun to the door. She should have been relieved that he was leaving,
but now that his departure was imminent, she wasn't so eager to see him go.
She'd enjoyed the verbal sparring, the chance to think about things other than
the hellish day she'd had, and she didn't want to be alone with the memories
and regrets that plagued her.
    As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Shaun
paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Are you sure you're okay?"
    "I'm fine." Or she would be, anyway. If
there was one thing she'd learned over the years, it was how to take care of
herself.
    Still he hesitated. "You know you can call me if
you need anything. Anytime."
    It was a nice thought, but she couldn't—wouldn't—take
him up on it. "Go home, Shaun."
    He smiled, and her traitorous pulse skipped a beat
before she ordered it to behave. She wasn't going to get all giddy and
weak-kneed just because Shaun McIver smiled at her. But she couldn't help the
way her breath caught in her throat when her eyes met his, watched them darken.
    Something crackled in the air between them. Something
powerful and unexpected and just a little scary, and if her brain hadn't seemed
to shut down, she might have stepped away. Instead, she stood rooted,
mesmerized.
    He leaned toward her, and if Arden didn't know better
she might have thought he was going to kiss her. But she did know better, and
she knew—

----
    Chapter
3
    « ^ »
    W hatever
it was Arden thought she knew slipped from her mind as Shaun's lips touched
hers.
    She watched his eyelids lower, felt her own flutter,
then close. In darkness her other senses were heightened, the impact of the
kiss magnified. The touch of his lips sent tingles down her spine; the musky,
male scent of him clouded her brain; and she lost herself in his kiss.
    His lips were warm and firm as they moved over hers
with a mastery that was either pure God-given talent or the result of much
practice. A mastery that didn't so much coax as demand a response. She
responded, and demanded in turn.
    The sensations that stirred inside her were as
unwelcome as they were unfamiliar. She'd been kissed by more than a few men in
her thirty-one years, but she'd never been kissed like this. The heat building
inside her was like an inferno: burning, raging, devouring. Desire wasn't a new
emotion, but the intensity of this desire baffled her even as her mouth moved
against his. Had any of her brain cells been functioning, she might have pulled
back. She might have recognized this as insanity and withdrawn from it. But
that first touch of his lips on hers had abolished all rational thought,
leaving only edgy, achy need.
    When his tongue slipped between her parted lips and
stroked the ultrasensitive ridges on the roof of her mouth, she almost moaned.
He tasted of salsa and coffee and man: spicy and potent and hot.
    She vaguely registered the pressure of his hand on her
back, drawing her slowly but inexorably closer to the hard length of his body.
She didn't, couldn't, resist. Her arms wound around his neck, her breasts
crushed against the solidity of his chest. His heart beat against hers, as fast
and heavy as her own.
    His hands slid lower, cupped her buttocks, positioned
her more firmly against him. She could feel the evidence of his arousal, and
the answering, aching heat between her thighs. She wanted him. Oh, how she
wanted him. It was irrational, insane, but it was real. She wasn't the type of
woman to indulge in meaningless sex. She didn't have casual affairs. She'd
never been tempted.
    But she was now, and