Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [108]
It’s just because it’s been so long since a man has kissed you, touched you, held you as if he couldn’t help himself, she tried to tell herself, but despite the fact that it had been over a year since she’d made love to a man and that was only because Dean had been so insistent, she knew that there was more to her reaction than pure physical lust.
This was Thane who was holding her, Thane who was kissing her, Thane who was acting as if he couldn’t resist her. Thane’s face pressed feverishly to hers, his lips moving far too sensually against hers. She trembled.
Groaning, he settled into the juncture of her parted legs, his jeans-clad thighs inside of hers, his erection hard against her lower abdomen.
God, she wanted him. Here in the cold night air, her spine pushed up against the door of his truck, her breasts flattened against the pressure of his chest, she wanted him. Heat throbbed deep inside her, and her blood tingled as his hand slid inside her jacket to cup her breast. Beneath her sweater her nipples hardened, and her knees grew weak. If not for the support of the truck, she would have sagged into the snow, drawing him with her, wanting nothing more than the feel of his naked body driving into hers.
“This is insane,” she murmured into his open mouth.
He lifted his head, and she stared into eyes as dark and dusky as the night. “It’s always been this way with you, Maggie. Always.”
“Oh, right.” Her head was starting to spin. “Even when you were with Mary Theresa. You know, Thane, she always came between you and me.”
“Not true,” he said, his gaze focusing on her lips again. “In fact she used to say the same thing about you.”
“What? That I came between you and her?”
His gaze lifted to hers, and the lust she saw burning in their midnight blue depths caused the breath at the back of her throat to stop. “Not only that you came between us, but that I fantasized that she was you.”
“No—don’t even say it.” She didn’t believe him. Wouldn’t.
His mouth tightened, and he released her slowly, stepped away. “The damned thing of it was that she was right. Every night when we went to bed, I thought of you, Maggie.” He stared up at the shimmering heavens and shook his head as if at his own folly. “Every damned night.”
“I—I don’t think we should be discussing this. Not here. Not now.” She didn’t dare believe him.
“Not ever,” he agreed, reaching around her and opening the door. White lines of irritation edged his lips. “Get in the truck. We’ll grab something to eat.” When she started to protest, he amended, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Right after I get you checked into a hotel and you find yourself a goddamned rental car.”
“And I talk to Becca.”
“Whatever.”
As she climbed into the truck, he swung the door shut behind her and, muttering under his breath about “mule-headed, stubborn, pain-in-the-ass women,” found his way to the driver’s side. He fired up the engine, threw the truck into reverse and managed to crank up the radio in one smooth motion. By the time the pickup rolled into the street and he’d jammed the gearshift lever into first, Maggie was finally able to breathe again.
He glanced in the rearview mirror. “You know that we’re being followed, right?”
She hadn’t noticed, but wasn’t surprised. A glance over her shoulder confirmed his suspicions. “The police?”
“Probably.” He drove out of the gated community and watched as an undistinguished Jeep followed suit. “I noticed them on the way over here. Just wasn’t sure.”
“If it’s not the police, it could be someone involved in Mary Theresa