The Perfect Match Read Online Free Page B

were to stretch out his hand to her now, she would put her own into it and silently follow him; allow him to lead her ...take her, in every sense of the word, but she was no dependent, naive clinging vine. On the contrary, he recognised that she was an extremely well-grounded and femininely powerful woman.
    As he stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him, he reached out instinctively to touch her face. Immediately Chrissie turned her head and pressed her mouth to the hard palm of his hand.
    Guy heard himself groan as he drew her towards him with his other hand. Her body fitted perfectly within his, as he would fit perfectly within hers.
    He didn't know which of them was trembling harder as he bent his head and replaced the hard warmth of his palm against her lips with the even harder warmth of his mouth. He only knew that the tiny, agonized sound of delight she made beneath his kiss was echoed a thousandfold deep within his own body.
    Chrissie could feel herself trembling violently as she gave herself over not just to Guy's kiss, but to the new role that fate had devised for her. She had never imagined minutes ago when she opened the door to him that she was opening the door to her future. She had never been the kind of woman to rush into any kind of physical intimacy—just the opposite—yet here she was, knowing that no matter how far the intimacy went between the two of them, it could be nowhere near as intense as the silent, emotional bonding they had already shared.
    Never had she imagined that she could react like this to a man's touch, to his kiss, that she could want him so immediately and so overwhelmingly, that she could feel the urgent almost violent desire within him to tear aside the barriers of their clothing and know her utterly and completely and to share that desire, to know just how much he ached for the feel of her skin against his, beneath his, and how much she shared and returned that ache.
    She could hear him whispering beneath their shared hungry kisses how much he wanted her, how much he had longed for her in his life—unintelligible, dis-jointed words that ran together from a raw trickle of sound into a sensual flood.
    How long they stood there, kissing, touching...
    wanting, Chrissie had no idea; she only knew that when he finally released her, she was trembling so much she could hardly stand up, that her mouth felt swollen and bruised, that his mouth looked...
    looked...
    She swallowed as she looked at him and he reached reassuringly for her hand, then held it tenderly in the firm, warm grip of his own. "Coup defoudre, I believe the French call it.'
    'They would,' Chrissie replied shakily. She ached to be back in his arms. She ached all over for him, she admitted, inside and out, and it was nothing like the aches and pains she had been suffering because of her hard physical work cleaning up the cottage, nothing at all.
    God, but he wanted her, Guy recognised. He wanted her so much that he didn't know how he was managing to keep his hands off her. He had never considered himself to be a highly sexed man, but right now...
    'I've never experienced anything like this before,'
    Chrissie confessed.
    'Good,' Guy told her tautly, adding rawly, 'I think I'd want to kill any other man who might have—'
    Chrissie stopped him, shaking her head, but she knew what he meant. She felt equally savage and un-characteristically jealous of any other woman who might have had the same effect on him as she quite obviously had had.
    She took a deep breath and forced herself to try to come back down to normality, but it was almost impossible. 'I want you so much,' she admitted shakily.
    Then Guy was bridging the small gap between them and taking her back in his arms.
    For several long minutes, the only sound was that of their increasingly passionate kisses and strained breathing. Chrissie had no idea which of them it was who lifted Guy's hand to her breast; she only knew that the sensation of his holding