The Gender Game by Bella Forrest (historical books to read txt) 📗

from my grasp, before returning a second later to establish dominance. His mouth claimed mine, unhurriedly at first, the way he might scope out a new opponent in the cage. Then it escalated to a strength that left me struggling to breathe. His kiss forced every muscle in my mouth to awaken as the rest of his body loosened, coming alive. His hands dove into my hair, his powerful fingers threading through its length before trailing down my back. His lips refusing to unlock from mine for even a second, he lowered himself, dragging his hands down to my thighs before hoisting me up against his hips. He moved to the nearest wall and pressed me against it. His palms ran the length from my knees to my thighs. Then they slid beneath my shirt. The coarseness of his hands against my bare skin lit me up. He stopped above my navel, his fingers curving round my waist as he held me firmly in place.

He'd pinned me, and now he had me.

His tongue parted my lips, allowing me to feel it for the first time. It brushed against the tip of mine before moving deeper. Exploring. Then devouring.

My senses were lost in him. His scent, his taste, his hard breathing. He had overpowered me completely, and I was losing this fight. Willingly losing it.

When I'd moved in, I'd had no game plan, no clear idea of what I was even doing, let alone how long I'd let it last. I'd just felt the overwhelming need to release my tension around him. To finally provide him with a response he'd been hounding me for. Perhaps even to say goodbye.

But I didn't think it would last long.

Time had lost its meaning, however. My mind had become comfortably numb. Viggo's mouth, taut skin and forceful grip became all that existed in my world.

I was afraid now to pull apart. Having figured out a pattern to regulate my breathing against the rhythm of his passion, I found myself slipping out of defense mode. Anchoring myself higher up against him, I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, pulling my chest flush against his. I clutched the sides of his face, relishing the prickle of his stubble beneath my fingers. Like the mountains he insisted on living among, everything about Viggo was raw. Wild. Real. He was unadulterated masculinity. From his thick waves of hair to his rough, cut-up fists. I hadn't thought it possible for one person to crave another as I did in this moment… least of all a woman for a man.

I feared we might drown even deeper that night, the two of us alone in this cabin. Especially as his hands moved higher beneath my shirt, his thumbs tracing the top of my breasts, his palms grazing my bra cups.

But we never got the chance to test our self-restraint.

As a sharp rapping sounded at the door, Viggo and I were torn apart.

We stood, frozen, lips and cheeks flushed red, our hearts thumping. Reality slammed into us, and our delicate illusion shattered. We stared at each other as strangers would, stunned by what had happened. By what we had allowed to happen.

There was no time for words. Viggo, trailing a quick hand through his hair, snatched up a shirt hanging over the back of his armchair and jerked it over his head. While I—with no mirror to assist me—attempted to pat down my hair, straighten my clothes and look as though Viggo's hands hadn't just been up my shirt.

Searching my face, Viggo's eyes were still glassy, shining with desire, as I suspected mine were.

His expression was questioning. I nodded, even as I tried to tame my erratic breathing, still my trembling hands.

I was as ready to face Lee now as I ever would be.

31

Viggo opened the front door to reveal Lee standing on the porch in a long black anorak with an umbrella tucked beneath one arm, dark circles beneath his eyes. "Viggo," he said. I could hardly hold Lee's gaze as he glanced my way. "I'm so sorry for this." Lee held out a hand to me and I had no choice but to brush past Viggo and take it, like an obedient child, allowing Lee to pull me next to him on the porch. His arm found my waist and he held me against him. "Violet has been unstable since Porteque. The doctor said it could be a long time before she recovers from the trauma. She's been sleepwalking, going blank when I ask her questions… I didn't think she'd ever do something as crazy as this."

Viggo didn't say a word. He stood, his face stoic, his eyes remaining determinedly on Lee. I averted my own gaze to the floor. It was torture to look Viggo in the eye now. Every fiber of my being still burned for him. My lips still tingled from his kiss. The scent and feel of his bare skin still tantalized me. Standing there in his doorway, his hair loose and mussed, eyes alight with a gleam that told me his consciousness, too, was still trapped living in the moments before Lee's arrival… he was temptation personified to me. I guessed I was the same for Viggo, given his refusal to look at me.

"I understand that you are bound to report my wife for this transgression," Lee said, giving my waist a tense squeeze. "But given everything she's been through… Would you be able to wait at least a few days? I fear what being taken to court will do for her mental health."

There was a pause before Viggo's baritone voice replied, "I cannot promise anything, Mr. Bertrand."

"Of course not," Lee said quickly. I was sure that even requesting Viggo to engage in "obstruction of justice" would put Lee on the line for punishment too, if Viggo decided to report us.

"Once again," Lee went on. "I'm deeply sorry for the inconvenience. I will deposit all the money I owe you