Page 132 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

He bent his head and touched his mouth to hers.

That’s all it was for three long seconds—a feathery contact that barely grazed her softened lips before she felt him start to retreat, leaving her stinging with disappointment.

A small sob of yearning panged in her throat. Her hands closed into the knit of his shirt. She pushed into her toes, seekingmore.

His breath hitched, then his mouth opened with more hunger over hers. More command.

It was a fresh plunge into suffocating heat and blurred light and wild sensations that were panic-like, but also exhilarating. She didn’t know what to do, which was terrifying, but he did. With a sweep of his tongue, he encouraged her lips to part and the intimacy of it sent a spike of delight straight into her belly.

Moaning, she leaned into him, offering more of herself to be consumed. She didn’t realize she had pressed right up against him until his hard chest was crushing her breasts. His hands roamed down her back, ironing her tighter into him. She loved the strength and confidence in the way his hands moved over her, unhurried but thorough. She had the discomfiting urge to have her backside fondled, but she didn’t know how to tell him that without stopping the kiss and she never wanted to stop this kiss. It was a world unto itself, one that was velvety and dark and perfect.

She realized that waffle knit and denim were abrading her palms. She was cruising her hands over his back with discovery while her whole body undulated in an attempt to get closer to his. Her hand brushed the pocket of his jeans, intrigued by the abrasion of denim over flexed muscle.

A gruff noise resounded in his chest. The world tilted. The side of the bed hit the backs of her knees and the mattress arrived at her back. She gasped and opened her eyes to the sight of him on one elbow as he loomed over her.

“No?” His expression was stark, eyes hazed with the same sort of spell that had been cast over her.

“Yes,” she whispered, because she already missed the feel of him against her. She slid her hand into his hair and urged him to kiss her again.

He pressed his weight across her and plundered. It was glorious. Intoxicating. She met the dab of his tongue with her own, reveling in the sensation of falling in slow motion down a long, dark tunnel. She loved the feel of his hair! She sifted her fingers through the springy thickness and found the indent at the back of his neck and died a little death when his hand skated over her breast, then splayed to take firm possession and massage it.

A sharp, raw need combusted between her thighs. A dampening heat thatached. It was so intense, she heard herself whimper.

He rasped something against her mouth in a language she didn’t recognize and buried his mouth in her throat. The undeniable shape of his erection was against her thigh. Never had she thought she would find that enticing, but she wanted to touch it. To be under him. She wanted thatthere.

A caress arrived against the bare skin of her stomach and climbed to her naked breast. The cup of his palm made her breast swell and tingle.

He lifted his head to look into her eyes as he scraped his thumb across and around her nipple, sending more lightning strikes into her loins.

“Let me see. I want to suck it.”

The grit in his voice sent shivery prickles across her skin. The sheer audacity of what he was asking made her turn her face into his biceps and close her eyes. But her hand found the edge of the pullover where it was bunched against his wrist. She started to draw it upward.

As swirls of cool air crept across her torso, the door swung inward, letting in the noise of the party.

Atlas abruptly moved his hand to her back, rolling her protectively into his chest and cradling her there while his voice turned to a rusty knife blade.“Get out.”

“See?” Carmel said. “He’s right here, getting off with the maid.”

What? Stella twisted against the band of Atlas’s arms, craning her neck to see Carmel was sagged into the room, clinging to the door latch. She was dripping wet and clutched a towel to her naked breasts.

“Just like Daddy,” she pronounced with venom.

Atlas pushed into the mattress, springing away from her and off the bed, slashing Stella with a glare of blame.

Stella sat up, trying to get her bearings, only then noticing the man with iron-gray hair in the hall.

“Really, Atlas?” the man said.

Stella’s heart lurched from fresh shock to something more appalled. For once in her life she felt small, but in the worst possible way. Belittled. Looked down on.

“I told them I was calling the police. I’m doing it now.” Atlas yanked his ski jacket from beneath Stella’s hip.

She scrambled off the bed and tugged at the clothes she wore, ensuring she was fully covered.

“They’re on their way.” The older man sideswiped Stella with a lip curl of disgust. “Get rid of her. Then help me get rid of the rest.” He stalked away.

“Oh, no.” Carmel pouted with exaggerated sympathy while her eyes stayed bright with malicious laughter. “Daddy’s mad.”

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