As she stalked past him, his fingers grazed her shoulder to halt her. A sizzling
warmth pierced her skin and swirled throughout her body. Catherine restrained the
gasp that fought to break from her lips. She’d prayed the sensations she experienced
last night resulted from the lingering effects of the dream and lack of sleep,
but they seared her again.
Brett jerked his hand back as if she scalded him, and
it hovered in the air above her shoulder. Unsure, she turned to him. The pulse in
his temple beat at a frantic rate, and the muscles in his jaw clenched. It affected
him, too. She delved deep into his eyes, and the turmoil that appeared to tear him
in different directions caught and captured her.
She yearned for the heat of his
fingers to engulf her again, to feel his body pressed against hers like last night,
the whisper of his breath on her cheek, the exquisite thrill of not being alone.
Her gaze fell to his appealing, moist lips. Not thin and dry like Lord Wallingford’s.
Brett leaned toward her and then withdrew. He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed
before he cleared his throat. “You can stay here with him.”
She blinked as the strange immediacy to be embraced faded away. What had she been
thinking? She never wanted another man to touch her. Ever. Especially not one of
his station.
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