literally into his lap.
For a moment neither of them seemed to know what had hit them, and neither reacted in any way. Rory sat with Miss Thornbury seated across his thighs, and having the weight of her body pressing against that particular part of him was a surprisingly appealing sensation. And that sensation, coupled with the memories he had just been entertaining—not to mention her slim skirt and snug top—left him feeling more than a little dazed.
He glanced down to see if they both still had all their parts in place, only to discover that he could see one of her parts still in place quite clearly. Probably more clearly than was actually prudent—or, at the very least, socially acceptable. Because, at some point during their tumble, Miss Thornbury’s slim skirt had ridden up on one side, and now the slit that before had offered only a hint of the leg beneath, suddenly offered a view that went way, way beyond the hint phase.
And Rory saw that his goddess-vision of Miss Thornbury’s creamy thigh simply had not done justice to the reality of Miss Thornbury’s creamy thigh, that the silky skin beneath her skirt was as smooth as satin and as flawless as a sheet of glass, and as warm and welcoming as a summer afternoon. And then he wondered hazily how he could possibly know that her thigh was smooth and warm, and to his astonishment—nay, to his utter horror—he realized he could know that because he had his hand placed firmly on that smooth, warm thigh, his fingers curling into her bare flesh as if they had every right to be there.
Immediately Rory snatched back his hand, mumbling an incoherent apology for having placed it where it was to begin with. For a scant, delirious second, Miss Thornbury gazed back at him with lambent—yes, lambent was most definitely the word he was looking for—eyes, and for one brief, dizzying moment, he thought she was going to ask him to put his hand right back where it was, if he pleased. And Rory realized then, with much amazement, that it would have pleased him, very much, to do that very thing. He even felt his fingers begin to curl slightly and creep forward again, as if they’d already decided to take matters—or, at the very least, Miss Thornbury’s thigh—into their own hands.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
