Read To Rescue or Ravish? for Free Online

scribbled the notice. “Get that to Sam Fitch. It has to be in the morning paper.”
    “Right you are,” Bird said. “It certainly does.”
    “And then,” Matt said, “sit tight.”
    “I can’t sit tight,” Bird said. “I’ve got to get to work on this tonight. I’ll make my bloody fortune with this one.”
    “It won’t be much use if you’re dead,” Matt said.
    Bird snorted, and when Matt tugged at her hand, Arabella followed reluctantly. She had no choice but to go with him, but if he dared scold her, she would… She didn’t know what she would do.
    He pulled her into the passageway and up a flight of stairs. “Where are we going?” she demanded.
    “To my rooms.”
    “You live here?” Oh, no . Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? She didn’t mean to sound appalled. She didn’t care where he lived, as long as he didn’t hate her. As long as he was still her friend.
    “Some of the time,” he said. By the light of an oil lamp in the narrow passage at the top of the stairs, he unlocked a door. “I own the place.”
    “You own this tavern?” Now her voice was a surprised squeak. Everything that came out of her mouth was either stupid or insulting. “Don’t be angry with me, Matt. Please don’t.”
    He pushed her willy-nilly ahead of him into the dark room, his hand firm on her arm. He slammed the door shut behind them, and catcalls and a roar of laughter came from below.
    “Oh, God , Arabella,” he said, pulling her close in the darkness. Her heart bounded in her chest. His mouth descended on hers.
    It’s the same , she thought wildly, the same as back then , and dove soul-first into his kiss. Premonitions of disaster fluttered at the edges of her mind, then fell by the wayside as her mouth opened beneath his. She wanted to crawl inside him, to be enveloped by him. Hunger for him ravaged her, made her shake with it. She twined her arms about his neck, moulding herself to him, breasts squashed against his chest, hips and thighs yearning toward his.
    He ended the kiss, his voice harsh and his breathing rough. “Bella, we have to talk.”
    She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t even want to think. She needed to do , before she came to her senses. She writhed against him, ran her hands into his hair, and brushed his lips with hers. She put out her tongue and licked the corner of his mouth.
    “Damn it, Bella—” He broke off with a curse and kissed her again. Now his hands moved swiftly, confidently, releasing her cloak and letting it fall. He kissed and kissed her, even as his large competent hands pulled the pins from her hair and spread it around her shoulders, travelled her spine, found her buttocks through her gown, cupped and squeezed until she was lost in sensation, knowing nothing but him.
    She’d been lost then, too.
    He broke the kiss. “God, woman, you excite me.” His voice was stark and sure against the darkness, his hands equally sure as he removed her pelisse, then turned her to undo the ties of her gown. His lips travelled her neck in tiny kisses while his fingers worked her stay-laces. In no time she stood naked but for her shift, stockings and half boots.
    Those capable hands sought her buttocks again and travelled unhesitatingly to her core. His fingers delved into her wetness, found her sweet spot, caressed it with quick, soft flicks, catching her off guard, and the remnants of fear fell away like dead leaves. She cried out at the pleasure of it, and then he was at her mouth again.
    His thumbs brushed her nipples through the thin fabric of her shift. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” he growled against her lips.
    “I’ve wanted you forever,” she whispered.
    He stripped off her shift in one smooth motion, scooped her into his arms and carried her unhesitatingly through the darkness into another room. Coals glowed in the grate, giving enough light to show her a bed. He laid her upon it and made short work of her boots. He slid his hands up her calves