Spellbound Read Online Free Page B

his breathing close to her ear and feel the puff of warm air against her skin.
    ‘You smell beautiful,’ he said, his voice barely a whisper.
    This was better than she’d even dared dream. ‘Okay, now I really have to kiss you.’
    Belle wasn’t sure who leaned forwards first, but then her eyes were closed, his lips were on hers, and it was the best thing in the whole entire world.
    He was gentle, nibbling at her lips in small, sweet kisses, taking in her mouth from one side to the other.
    Belle sighed and when her lips parted he caught her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling on it and releasing it before giving her top lip the same treatment.
    Belle squirmed, not sure what to do with the heat pooling low in her belly, with the anticipation building inside her, with the ache beginning to throb between her legs.
    His hand rose to cup her neck, one long finger reaching behind her ear to stroke her softly, and she almost purred.
    Some synapse in Belle’s brain woke up and reminded her that she could also touch him. Her hands rose tentatively, resting lightly on his shoulders before slipping down over the swell of muscle in his arms. She squeezed, unable to help it, and groaned when her fingers met solid resistance.
    He chuckled against her lips. ‘Arms, huh?’
    Embarrassed she’d been so obvious, Belle winced. ‘Sorry.’
    ‘Don’t be,’ he breathed, and then his tongue plunged inside her mouth, sliding against hers, gently exploring, and Belle didn’t care anymore. Her hands ran from his elbows to his shoulders and back again, taking in every dip and bulge of the muscles, pushing the sleeves of his T-shirt out of the way to give her access to his hot skin, the juxtaposition of silky soft over steely hardness.
    If this was how good something as simple as touching his arms felt, would she even survive sex?
    His kisses became deeper, more searching, and his hands gripped her elbows. A moment later, he was lying against the arm of the sofa, she was lying on top of him, and their lips hadn’t unlocked for a second. His hard body was unyielding beneath hers, his angles and planes so different to her own curves and softness. The buckle of his belt bit into her belly, the swelling in his jeans pushing against her mound.
    And then his fingers did exactly what she’d imagined that afternoon in the lift. One hand traced her spine to the dip in her back and made wide circles, each one skirting down further over her derrière. His other hand traced the path of the zipper in her dress, ending up at the nape of her neck, and her skin rippled with goosebumps as his fingers threaded through her hair.
    He pulled his mouth from hers to trail wet kisses over her cheek to her ear. ‘God, Belle, I don’t know why, but you drive me wild.’
    A damp tendril of uneasiness began to worm its way through the haze of pleasure. Of course he didn’t understand. He was a phantom. Bewitched to do her bidding. He had no control except what she had given him.
    Desperate to ignore the warning signal, Belle pressed herself more firmly against him, sighing as her breasts met the hardness of his chest, as one of his legs slipped between hers and her aching clit came to rest against his solid thigh.
    ‘Nick,’ she said, because her brain was too full of sensation to think of anything sensible to say. She kissed his jaw and found his stubble softer than she’d thought, long enough to have lost a little of its prickle.
    The hand that had been running through her hair moved to trace her collarbone, gently pausing as if to feel her pulse where the bones met in the middle. Then it dipped down to push the neckline of her dress out of the way and find the lace edge of her bra. Belle’s breath caught in her throat.
    She raised herself slightly so her hand could trail down his body, bumping over his belt, skirting her fingertips close to where the denim strained over his erection.
    He moved his hips into her touch, and Belle groaned as his thigh pushed