Marry Me...Again. Cheryl St.John

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Marry Me...Again - Cheryl  St.John

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get enough of him.

      She drank him in, absorbing warmth, comfort, passion, without any inhibition.

      Brynna was a sensible woman, a woman with responsibilities who planned meticulously and took care of other people. Doing something just because she wanted to was out of her limited experience. It felt strange.

      It felt scary.

      It felt wonderful.

      If there was such a thing as a biological clock, hers hadn’t merely been buzzing—it had been gonging like Big Ben, but for the past several years she’d been hitting the snooze button. Though she loved her job, she wanted a relationship. A family.

      Not a one-night stand with a man she’d just met.

      Their lips parted, giving them time to breathe, and, in those heart-pounding seconds, Brynna tried to collect her thoughts. Dev still stroked her cheek with his thumb. The touch went all the way to her breasts and hardened her nipples. Greedy for the feelings he created so easily, she closed her eyes on the erotic sensation and dropped her head back. It seemed as though she’d been waiting for his touch forever.

      Dev took the opportunity to dart his tongue against the sensitive skin of her neck, press a dewy kiss under her jaw…beneath her ear. “You taste so damned good,” he whispered, and she shuddered with the pleasure of his damp breath in her ear. He slid his other hand from her back around to cup her breast. Even through the fabric of her shirt and bra, his caress was hot and her nipple stiffened. He found it with the tips of his fingers.

      Brynna sighed, almost a hiccup, almost a sob, but definitely a sound of sensual delight. Her knees had turned to jelly, and she didn’t know how much longer she would be able to stand like this, without melting into a puddle.

      This man made her lose all reason, and she was tired of denying herself, tired of thinking about nothing but school and work and sensible things. It was time to take a chance. She deserved a sexy cowboy with slow hands and mesmerizing kisses. She deserved Devlin Holmes…and the pleasure he promised.

      Chapter Two

      She buried her face in his neck and inhaled the intoxicating scent of his skin, then instinctively tasted him. “If we cross the street and run through those backyards, we’ll come out right at the back of my apartment building,” she said softly, brazenly, her heart leaping at her daring as well as the thought.

      He leaned back enough to see her face in the dim glow of the distant street lamps. He stood with her pressed against the entire length of his body and her blood thrummed in her veins. “Are you sure?” he asked.

      “It’s my birthday,” she replied, as if that explained her decision to throw caution to the wind with a stranger, and then she felt silly for mentioning it.

      “You didn’t say anything.” He sounded more surprised at the fact that it was her birthday than because she wanted to take him home to her bed. He probably got a lot of offers.

      She shrugged and wondered if perhaps he wasn’t all that interested. Maybe hard-up doctors weren’t that much of an oddity. Disappointment flashed through her veins.

      He stroked her bare arms. “Give me five minutes to run back across Main Street to the gas station, okay?”

      Her relief was so potent, it should have been embarrassing.

      He released her shoulders and stepped away. “If you’re not here when I get back, I’ll know I dreamed you.”

      “I’ll be here.” Unless the world ended or she woke up. God, she hoped she wasn’t dreaming.

      He grabbed his Stetson and dashed out into the rain, his boots squishing on the sodden grass.

      She had a watch. It only took him four minutes, and he was back, barely breathing hard, his hat dripping, his shirt plastered to his broad chest. “You’re here,” he said.

      “Waiting,” she replied with a nod.

      Slowly he removed his hat and settled it on her head. Then picking up her backpack, he took her hand, and together they ran across the street. They cut a path between the homes, across backyards and toward her apartment complex. Her knees were still weak with passion and excitement, and she struggled to keep up with his longer, more confident strides.

      Beneath the overhang that protected a small back stoop, Brynna unlocked the entry, then led him up a flight of orange-carpeted stairs to her door. Her fingers trembled so hard she dropped the keys. With a gentle hand on her shoulder, Dev pressed her against the wall, eased his rock-solid body against hers and kissed her, knocking his hat from her head to the floor. She wrapped one arm around his neck and met the invasive mind-reeling quest of his tongue. Her imagination couldn’t have come up with anything better than Dev’s kisses.

      Again, she forgot where she was until he loosened his hold and separated them to quickly scoop up her keys and his hat and unlock the door. Brynna groped for the light switch that turned on a lamp at the end of her sofa.

      Dev let her bag fall and glanced around. He met her gaze.

      Lips tingling, body thrumming, she smiled hesitantly and kicked off her shoes.

      “Maybe we should get out of these wet clothes,” he suggested standing his hat on its crown on the floor.

      She locked the door behind her and walked toward the hall. “I’ll grab towels while you get those boots off.”

      She stepped behind the half-closed bathroom door and unbuttoned her shirt, dropping it and her bra into the tub. Her socks and jeans came next. Slipping into her terry robe, she carried a towel back to Dev.

      He had removed his wet shirt and draped it over the back of a chair. Her mouth went dry at the sight of all that smooth golden skin, his loosened belt and gaping jeans. He was tanned and firm, with enticing shadows in the muscled contours of his arms and chest, and she imagined touching her tongue to those places….

      Trying to stay rational, Brynna reached up with the towel to dry his hair. He allowed the act for only a moment, before pulling her close and kissing her. She touched his chest and shoulders with seeking fingers, as if she were blind and could read every inch of him. Her exploration took in his throat, then his cheeks, where the textures contrasted.

      He pulled away and scraped his jaw with the backs of his fingers. “I haven’t shaved since this morning. Didn’t know I was going to…do this….”

      “It’s okay. I kind of like it.” He smiled and she placed her finger on the dimple his grin created. “I like that, too.”

      “I could shave if you have a razor.”

      “No.”

      He cocked a brow.

      “I mean, I have a razor,” she explained, “but I don’t want you to shave now.”

      “But I want to kiss you.”

      “I want you to kiss me. I just don’t want to wait.” She blushed at her impetuousness—her impatience.

      Obliging, Dev ran a finger down the front of her pale-yellow robe and spread the fabric to the side until

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