“His eyes flared, and he tightened his grip on her arm. “Don’t press me, Meg.”She didn’t miss the intimate use of her Christian name, but there was no mistaking the threat this time.His voice was deep and liquid and seemed to wrap around her. She knew she shouldn’t provoke him, but he brought out a mischievous side of her long forgotten. Lifting one brow, she asked, “Or what?”Before the taunt had left her mouth, she was in his arms again and jerked firmly against the broad chest she’d just admired. She gasped. Not from shock, but from the realization of how much she liked being pressed against him. Of how she savored the sensation of her breasts and hips molded against the hard length of his body, of melting against him, of being secured in his arms. A wave of heated awareness shuddered through her.His eyes were hooded, his expression dark and full of promise. “Or I will prove to you just how innocent you are, my sweet, and how very little control you have over a man and a man’s desires.”

Monica McCarty

Monica McCarty - “His eyes flared, and he tightened his...” 1

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