The Girl's Guide to (Man)Hunting by Jessica Clare Page A

them.”
    Dane’s face lifted away from her neck and hovered an inch from her lips. “Miranda Hill,” he said in a low, husky voice. “You should definitely know that it’s them.”
    “Is that a yes?”
    “It’s a definite yes.”
    And he kissed her again, his lips descending on her own parted ones, his tongue sliding into her mouth with a powerful thrust that his finger deep inside her mimicked. Her hips rocked with that, and she made a sound of need low in her throat.
    His tongue thrust again, in time with his finger, and she began to feel that slow, wonderful build that only seemed to come with her vibrator. Her mouth parted wider under his, and when his tongue stroked into her mouth again, her tongue caressed it, submitting to him, telling him how much she wanted him.
    He gave one last thrust of his finger into her sex and then broke off the kiss, staring down at her. His finger slid from her pussy and brushed her clit again, sending electric currents of desire racing through her. “I suppose heavy petting isn’t going to cut it?”
    “It might,” she admitted, clinging to him. She didn’t want his hands to move away from where they were, setting all her nerve endings aflame. “We can keep trying. I don’t mind.”
    Dane pressed another long, searing kiss to her mouth, and then his hand slid from her skin. She could have wept with disappointment at that.
    He chuckled at her reaction. “I’m not going anywhere justyet. Take your top off. I want to see those pretty breasts. I’ve been thinking about them nonstop all day.”
    The words sent a shiver of delight racing through her, and a dash of fear.
There won’t be a camera here
, she told herself, fighting the urge to check her surroundings. Dane wouldn’t have known that she was trying to seduce him, wouldn’t know to wire this area. It was all in her imagination.
    But her moves were mechanical and jerky as she gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, then tossed it on the ground. Her black bra cups stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin in the moonlight, and he groaned at the sight. His fingers brushed against the curve of her breast and she shuddered.
    “Are you sure you want to do this, Miranda? We barely know each other anymore.”
    She gave a small, nervous laugh and slid her hands under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his rippled, taut muscles under her fingertips. “You should have thought of that before you had your hand in my shorts.”
    There was a flash of white in the darkness—his grin, she realized—and he pulled his shirt off, tossing it next to hers on the ground. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. She remembered Dane from high school—tall and rangy with a wide triangle of too-lean shoulders, and a boyish chest. Nine years had changed that; he rippled with muscle now, his body thick with it. His chest was still almost hairless, and she saw a tattoo of a twisting playing card on one shoulder—the logo for the Las Vegas Flush, his old team. Her fingers brushed against it, thendown his chest, exploring his body. Not an inch of fat anywhere. She supposed if she had to use a man for revenge, this was the best sort of specimen.
    “Do you approve?” he said, one palm moving to cup one of her breasts. “Been nine years since we saw each other with our tops off.”
    “It’s…acceptable,” she teased, her fingertips scraping over one taut nipple, and then she gasped when he used the same motion on her. “And what about me? Do I pass muster?”
    His fingers slid to her bra strap, easing it down her shoulder, and he kissed the bared flesh of her shoulder. “You are the sexiest thing I have seen in a long time.”
    That made the liquid heat surge back through her body again and she trembled a little, leaning in and sliding her hands to his waist when his kiss on her shoulder turned into his tongue dancing along her collarbone. Heat built and began to throb between her legs again, her sex getting wet