Saffron Nights Read Online Free Page A

against that warm soft skin, licking her until she squirmed. But first, her feet. He reached for them.
    “Okay,” he grunted. “Just let me . . .” And he cupped one of her feet in his large hand. This time, she hesitated, briefly, then allowed him to hold her bare foot.
     
    Okay, so what could it hurt for her to allow him to rub her feet? He seemed hell-bent on it. At this point, Maeve thought it safer than kissing—which is what she wanted. But that would be a mistake. Another kiss and she was a goner. She couldn’t remember a better kiss, ever. In fact, she was beginning to not remember, um, er, think clearly about anything at all. She still was slightly uncomfortable about him at her feet, but it was skin on skin and right for this moment: she craved his touch, anywhere on her body. And her brain was having a hard time making sense of that, but her body was not.
    Jackson reached over and poured a little olive oil on his hands and rubbed them together. He worked his way around her foot, rubbing with the perfect amount of pressure between her toes, then to the ball of her foot, then to her arch, where it tickled, yet burned with each pulse of his fingers.
    A voice of reason kept jabbing at her. What do you think you’re doing? He’s rubbing . . . your foot, for God’s sake.
    But his touch on her foot was tantalizing and tormenting. Pleasure and pain mixed with some deep pulsing tickling sensations. Oh yes, that voice of reason? Completely silenced by a loosening and moistening between her legs. He was rubbing her foot, yet she felt pleasure deep inside the middle of her. How could that be?
    The rubbing. The fingers. Those fingers on her foot. Massaging her heel, moving away from the spot—she was poised between agony and ecstasy. If he pressed into her arch anymore, she was afraid of what she would do.
    Could she really be getting this hot because of a foot rub?
    “Oh,” finally escaped from her mouth. “This is heavenly.”
    How long had she been holding that in?
    “Good,” he said, almost breathless.
    He moved on to the other foot . . . oh God, the other foot . He started slowly again, moving between her toes, moving with a faster rhythm to the ball of her feet. Maeve anticipated the arch-rub so much that she held her breath. It released with an audible sigh when he pushed into her arch. She was embarrassed for him to see her this way. Really, he was her colleague. She needed to get control of herself.
    How much further could she let this go?
    She sank back into the cushions, feeling more relaxed than she had in months. The last book tour had been so hideously stressful that she just wanted to forget about it. She was finally relaxed, but parts of her were lit. It was getting hard to deny—she was feeling turned on by Jackson. If he could do this to her by rubbing her feet, then what else could he do to her?
    Maeve’s eyes caught his. Heat exchanged. She had never been on this precipice, her body craving, wanting, and her mind saying no. When she wanted a man, she went for it. As their eyes locked, she almost felt him move through her. She knew she could not stop what was about to happen. She didn’t want to.
    She sighed. It was all she could do; words escaped her, she could not talk anymore. She wanted him on her feet, between her breasts, in her mouth, and shoved inside her deep. She knew she should be worried about making it with her colleague. She muffled the voice in her head, once again. The salivating voice between her thighs was much stronger.
     
    Circular rubbing. His fingers found their rhythm. He was touching her feet. He could feel the heat coming from them, could almost feel tingling in his fingers—like they were ablaze with energy. She was responding to each and every move he made now.
    She leaned her head back, almost arching her back, revealing more cleavage and the outline of an erect nipple. Was she as turned on as he was? How could this be? They had worked together for years, knew