His San Diego Sweetheart. Yahrah St. John

away to nip her ear with his teeth or glide his deliciously wet tongue against her throat or suck her neck with ravaging pulls, wondrous feelings erupted inside. Her breasts began to ache for his touch especially when he pressed her lower back toward him. She could feel the hard ridge of his erection pushing against her pelvis and it caused molten heat to pool between her thighs.

      No words were uttered between them. Instead his fingers combed through her hair, from root to tip, and his hands splayed across her backside, hips and thighs. She gasped when he ground the steel of his manhood against her melting core and began rubbing against her. He was imprinting himself on every inch of her body. And Miranda was powerless to his onslaught. Instead she rode the wave, her breasts swelling in response and her nipples turning into pebbles underneath the sheer fabric of the chiffon dress. He had to know how horny he was making her, but he wasn’t pushing her backward on the bed. Instead, he rolled her nipples between his fingers until they turned to buds and then he pushed the fabric of her dress down so he could close his lips around one nipple through her strapless bra. He suckled her so strongly that a moan of pleasure escaped her lips as he lashed the turgid point with hot strokes of his tongue.

      Miranda writhed in his hold and whimpered when his mouth left her breast to return and plunder her mouth. His tongue invaded hers and she dueled with him for supremacy. It was like she was having an out-of-body experience and she was no longer herself. Who was this wanton creature taking what Vaughn was so boldly giving her? He was sliding her down his body with leisurely movements, forcing her to ride his erection through their clothing. Moans escaped her lips followed by sharp intakes of breath. The center of her was throbbing and only Vaughn could assuage it.

      This was no slow seduction because no doubt about it, Vaughn had been seducing her all night. First with the compliments, the fancy dinner, watching the moonlight on the terrace. It had all been to seduce her senses and he’d succeeded. She was a frenzy of need. She wanted him...to do anything and everything to her. But if she allowed that to happen, if she made love with this man, no matter how satisfying it would be—tomorrow she would still be in the exact same place without a husband. And Vaughn would walk away with a smug smile in the morning, leaving her alone just as every other man before him had done.

      Miranda began pushing her hands against his chest, letting him know that they had to end this. It took several seconds, but slowly Vaughn eased his hold and lowered her back to the ground.

      Dear heaven, what had she done?

      Embarrassed at just how far she’d allowed things to go between them, Miranda quickly lifted her dress, backed up, spun away from him and walked toward the window.

      “Miranda, are you alright?” Vaughn inquired from behind her. His voice was husky with desire.

      She nodded. This was her fault. She’d made a mistake when she’d allowed him to come back to her room. Once again, she was falling for the wrong man. In an alternate universe in which she wasn’t looking down the barrel of a gun to get inheritance, Vaughn could have been the right man, but he wasn’t. There was no incentive for a man as rich as Vaughn to marry her. She had to find someone else desperate and willing to marry her for a year, but who?

      Because as much as she might like to have finished what they started, Vaughn was never going to be that man.

      * * *

      Vaughn stared at Miranda’s rigid back as she faced the window. His body hummed with unfulfilled tension, his manhood ached and throbbed with a need to mate with this woman. He took a deep breath, struggling for control. What the hell was happening to him? He’d always considered himself a disciplined man who allowed himself the odd indulgence, but Miranda was so provocatively tempting, she was forcing him to basic near primitive instincts.

      It was clear that the evening was over. He just had to extricate himself with as much diplomacy and tact as possible while still allowing Miranda to save face. He knew she had to feel horrible enough without his anger as a factor. And he was angry because she was fighting their attraction. But yet he could see she was conflicted. Her mind was telling her to walk away, but her body—her body wanted him something fierce. The way she’d ridden his shaft had him in desperate need of a cold shower. Pronto.

      But she also seemed to warring with herself about what was right and wrong. He would do the right thing. “I should go.”

      Slowly, she pivoted on her heel to face him. The strained look on her face told him she was thankful. “I think that might best. I should never have allowed you to come up. Should never have gotten involved.”

      “How can you say that, Miranda? When you and I so clearly complement each other.”

      She took a step backward and he could sense her pulling further away from him. “I’m sorry for giving you mixed signals and for giving you the wrong idea that I—I wanted...” She didn’t say another word; instead she rushed off to the bathroom and slammed the door, effectively shutting him out.

      He walked to the door and placed his ear against it, but all he could hear was sniffles. “Miranda. Miranda?” When she continued to remain silent, Vaughn released a long sigh. “Okay, I’ll go, but I just want you to know that the time we’ve spent together the last couple of evenings has been nothing short of spectacular and I hope to see you again.”

      He placed his hand on the door. And after willing it to open for several more seconds, he finally gave up, opened the hotel room door and left.