Wild Irish Ride

“Still a virgin on the run after all these years, Lexi?” he drawled.  His voice, as steamy and seductive as Southern summer day, challenged her on an elemental level, a sensual one.

“Almost,” Alexi said, letting the last illicit picture she had of Roger fall from her grasp to the ground.  She’d only ever been with Roger and he didn’t count.  Not anymore.  She sucked in air, latching onto Jesse’s appeal.  The reporters encircled them.  Jesse lifted his hot gaze to her eyes and smiled.

“Almost?”  Slow and sexual, his grin spread awareness over her.  “Sounds frustrating.  Interested in changing that?”  He ran his finger under her chin and she caught her breath.

Yes, some part deep inside her shouted.  Yes, she wanted to change that.  Here was one situation her grandmother couldn’t smooth over with a lie.  With the cameras rolling, Roger and her grandmother would get a clear picture that Alexi meant it when she said she wasn’t marrying Roger ever.

“Yes,” Alexi said to Jesse, stepping closer to him.  Waves of his sex appeal washed over her.  Waves she had no trouble remembering, though she’d only been seventeen when she’d last dipped into them.  His nearness and touch sparked something inside of her that wanted to rebel against everything that had just happened to her.  “Kiss me,” she demanded, loudly.

Jesse arched his brow and asked softly, “What’s your game Lexi?”  His slid an arm around her and pulled her flush to his chest, her breasts to his hard muscle.  Then his mouth covered hers.  She gasped at the desire shooting through her as his tongue entered her mouth, and his gaze dared her to respond.

She wound her arms around his neck, pressed closer to him, and met his tongue with hers.  His eyes widened with surprise, telling her that he’d expected her to put him off rather than to take him up on his challenge.  After that first moment, he didn’t hesitate in delivering a four-alarm kiss.  He bent her back over his arm, inserted his leg between hers and had one hand cupping her butt.  In one kiss he ravished her from the inside out and she burned for more.  By delivering a message to her grandmother, what message had she delivered to herself?

He ended the kiss, but kept her captive in his embrace as he stared into her eyes.  The cameras continued to flash and the world swirled crazily.  She ran her fingers into the silk of his hair and kissed him again, wanting to chase away the chill Roger had left inside her.  Jesse groaned and deepened the kiss more.

Her heart pounded at the line she crossed by welcoming his embrace in so public a way.  He smelled faintly of aftershave and some indefinable, but intriguing scent.  His body, strong and sure, eased around hers, a balm to her chaffed emotions.  Yet before she could lose herself in him, he ended the kiss.  Emotion and desire collided, springing tears to her eyes.  “Get me out of here, please,” she whispered.

Cool cynicism descended into the heat of his gaze.  “So that’s your angle.  You need a hero, even if it’s a Weldon.”

Glancing up at the reporters around them, he cursed.  “Well, your highness, these days I charge for services rendered, and I expect to get paid.”  He scooped her into his arms and rammed through the reporters.  “I’ll be your hero for a price.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, struggling in his arms as he headed to the parking lot.  Reporters followed.

Jesse stopped a moment and looked into her eyes.  A sensual promise curved his lips.  “We’ll take care of the details later.

The choice is yours, Lexi.  Me.  Or the sharks following us?”

“You,” she said, wondering if she’d just made a deal with the devil in Georgia.

©2009 Jennifer Saints