Snowbound - Harlequin.com

196 SNOWBOUND
lenge. They couldn’t just go into his apartment, close
the door and…well, do anything, not when they knew
there were people right here in the kitchen.
He didn’t seem to give a damn. The moment the
door shut behind Fiona, John yanked her into his arms.
“Your guests…”
“To hell with ’em.”
This kiss was hungry, raw. He had her plastered
against him, and she tried to squeeze even closer. His
tongue drove into her mouth, sliding against hers. She
whimpered, he groaned. His hair was thick, coarse silk
in her clutching hand, the muscles in his shoulder
powerful and bunched.
Somebody knocked on the door and they both froze.
John lifted his head to mumble a profanity. Fiona
rested her forehead against his chest and seized the
chance to breathe.
“Do you know where he is?” they heard a muffled
voice ask.
Fiona pushed him away. “You’d better go.”
“They’ll survive if they can’t find me for an hour,”
he growled.
“Isn’t there some kind of innkeeper’s oath? ‘My
guests’ comfort shall come first’?”
He gave her a sardonic look as she retreated. “I didn’t
sign it. Oh, crap.” He yanked open the door. “Yeah?”
Fiona didn’t listen to the exchange beyond to gather
that somebody was looking for snowshoes. John left,
closing the door behind him, and she sank down on the
bed, feeling shaky. Wow. She’d forgotten exactly what
happened when he touched her. Forget sex as a pleasant