Impulsive. HelenKay Dimon

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Impulsive

      Impulsive

      HelenKay Dimon

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      KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

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      All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Chapter 26

      Chapter 27

      Chapter 28

      Chapter 1

      Katie Long wasn’t sure how they’d gone from “would you like another drink” to crawling all over each other half-naked in the oceanfront estate’s hall bathroom, but that’s what happened. All that beautiful Hawaii sunshine just steps away, wrapped in the mixed scent of salt water and pikake, and there they were holed up in a single stall the size of a closet.

      The knot on the apron dug into her waist as he lifted her out of her sensible black pumps and slid her butt onto the sink countertop. Before she could take another breath, he slipped between her legs. The soft material of his dark gray suit pants rubbed against her bare thighs. His hands never stopped moving, and his mouth caressed and covered hers like a pro.

      Apparently Eric Kimura was good at something in addition to practicing law. Very good.

      “Did you lock the door?” she asked, her voice breathless as her head fell back and his fingers slipped past her inner thigh.

      “Mmm-hmmm.”

      With his face buried between her breasts and his teeth nibbling at the tiny pearl buttons holding her blouse together, she could barely hear him. Didn’t have to. The heat rolling off him said enough. This man was primed for action.

      Sleek, handsome, and tan with straight black hair and a serious stare that had her knees buckling at the outside dining tables a few minutes before. Something about the sharp lines of his cheekbones and bottomless midnight of his eyes reeled her in. She usually leaned more toward the blond, useless, treat-women-like-crap male, but at the moment she felt something raw and uncontrolled for the very hot Asian man with his fingers pressed against the crotch of her panties.

      Time zipped right by surreal and was well on its way to pure fantasy. Eric’s name appeared in the news almost every day. She knew him by reputation. He was a superstar in the Honolulu legal community with a crystal-clean reputation and an eye on political office.

      She was at this event on this day and in this outfit for him. In her plan, she didn’t talk to him or get in the way of the assignment. Certainly didn’t kiss him. Not that she cared about propriety and schemes right this minute, but this heat between them sure was going to be a complication.

      Then his thumb rubbed against her, back and forth until the material grew wet and her breathing turned shallow. Yeah, she’d worry about the complication tomorrow. Right now, she’d enjoy.

      She wanted to whisper his name, but she wasn’t supposed to know it. Under her act, they were nothing more than strangers, her a caterer employee at a wedding and him a guest. In about three minutes they’d be much more than that unless she grabbed onto her common sense and pulled it back, but that didn’t seem likely.

      He slipped her cotton underwear to the side and just like that her jumbled emotions switched from confused guilt to pure pleasure. Seemed the man with the big work title knew his way around a woman. The quiet ones always did.

      With a tug he unclipped his belt on the only piece of clothing standing between her conscience and raw pleasure. He lifted his head then. That dark gaze roamed over her face. His lips stayed flat, but the heat in his stare flared.

      “You sure?” That’s all he offered. Rough words delivered in a husky voice.

      She didn’t need an explanation or a minute to think. Her fingernails dug into his suit jacket and hit his shoulders underneath. “Yes.”

      Without breaking eye contact, he bunched her regulation catering skirt in his fist and dragged it up to her waist. Two seconds later she heard her underwear rip and felt a rush of cool air across her thighs. She sat there naked and open to the gaze of someone she knew only through the media’s version of him. He was a tough prosecutor and she was under him.

      His unblinking gaze traveled over the spot where her breasts strained against her snowy white shirt, igniting the fire in every cell and nerve ending until she had to fight the urge to squirm. That intense stare came to rest on her bare lower half. His eyebrows snapped together as if he were trying to figure out an intricate problem rather than hovering on the verge of having sex.

      Then he brushed his fingertips over her. Not inside. Not with a lot of pressure. Just a slight touch of skin against skin that sent her hips reaching toward him.

      “Nice,” he whispered.

      “Please.” She bit down on her lip to keep from saying his name.

      His thumb inched inside her, slow at first and then insistent as he circled around her slick opening. She grabbed his forearm as a finger joined his thumb. The soft rotation, the friction, made her inner muscles ache and clench. She reached out to the side wall for balance and knocked over the soap dispenser.

      The crashing sound of metal against the marble floor didn’t stop Eric at all. “Wrap your legs around me,” he said.

      She

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