Demon Rumm by Sandra Brown Page B

more deeply into the cove of her thighs. “Like this?”
    She nodded. Leaning back slightly, she gazed up at him, as though trying to clearly distinguish Charlie Rumm’s face from his. “His hair was lighter than yours. And curlier. The texture was different.”
    “Texture?” Rylan asked, pouncing on the word. “Did you touch his hair that night?”
    She shook her head. Her eyes were filled with contradiction and bemusement. “I . . . you’re confusing me. I don’t remember.” Her head fell forward onto his chest. Her arms were dangling loosely at her sides.
    “Were your arms like this when you danced with Charlie, Kirsten?” She rolled her forehead against his sternum in a negative motion. “Where were they?” he asked gently.
    Somnambulantly she raised her arms and looped them around his neck. She had small breasts. Her position only served to make the nipples more prominent.
    Rylan drew in a hissing breath. “Is this when you touched his hair?”
    “I think so. I must have run my fingers through it.”
    She matched action to words and it was all Rylan could do to keep from moaning as her fingers sifted through the hair at his collar. “How does mine compare?” He didn’t give a damn. He only wanted to know how his felt to her.
    “Yours is sleeker. Softer. Longer. Not as coarse. Not as curly.”
    He nibbled at the outer point of her eyebrow. His hands splayed wide on her bare back. “Were you wearing a backless dress that night?”
    “No. It was fall. I had on a sweater.”
    She had the smoothest, most unblemished skin he’d ever felt. “Were you wearing a bra?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then I am blessed.” Groaning, he rubbed his chest against her breasts. When the tips tightened into harder points, he cursed beneath his breath. “Did you know he was getting aroused?” He rubbed his lower body against hers.
    “Yes,” she whispered.
    “How long did you dance, Kirsten? Hours, I hope?” Though heaven knew that if they had, Rumm had more stamina than he.
    “No, just a few songs. My friend came up and told me that she was going home with her pilot.” She dropped her arms from around Rylan’s neck and pushed herself out of his embrace. Short of reverting to caveman tactics, he had no choice but to release her. She walked over to the stereo, and when she switched off the music, it created a noisy silence. “Gallantly, Charlie offered to take me home.”
    “Gallantry wasn’t his only motivation,” Rylan muttered thickly.
    She faced him angrily. “He was a perfect gentleman. He didn’t try anything.”
    “I’m sure he was a gentleman.” He took enough steps to reduce the distance between them considerably. “But I’m also just as sure that he was horny as hell and wanted more than anything to take you to bed.”
    “How would you—”
    She never vocalized the rest of her question. He saw her eyes sweep down his body, saw her startled expression when they confirmed her suspicion.
    “Right, Kirsten, you’re better off not asking,” he said softly. “Did Charlie kiss you good night?”
    “Is it in the movie script?”
    “There’s an obligatory kiss in the script. But we want to sell tickets. Did Rumm actually kiss you that night?”
    With an affirmative bob of her head, she began backing away from him.
    “What kind of kiss was it?”
    “You’re the expert screen kisser. I’m sure that however you handle that first kiss will satisfy your audience.”
    “I’m sure it will too,” he said with conceit. “This is for my own satisfaction. Was Rumm hesitant, not wanting to offend you? Or did he want that kiss so badly that he didn’t give a damn if he offended you or not?”
    His better judgment warned him that he was courting disaster. Neither of them was emotionally stable enough at that moment to handle what was about to happen, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was either going to kiss her or he was going to die.
    He had a lot to live for.
    “Was his kiss sweet, chaste, and nice? Or