Read Online All About Passion by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online Page A

tightened his hold on her and deepened the kiss—sealed her fate and his. She was soft, submissive—all woman. Her lips were as lush as he remembered, her mouth a cavern of wanton delight. She surrendered and opened fully to him, yielded on a sigh that was half moan, half entreaty. The sound drove him on; desire flicked, whipped. She offered her mouth in appeasement—he seized and demanded more.
    Swept up on the tide, Francesca released her last hold on the bay's reins and gave herself up to his embrace. The hot tangle of their tongues commanded her full attention, her complete and absolute devotion. The arm about her, muscles rigid, tightened even more. Perched sidesaddle as she was with her legs curled between them, he was lifting her from her seat. She didn't care. All that mattered was the gloriously heady tide that raged between them. Mentally finding her feet in the torrent, she steadied, then she caught her breath from him and reached for him.
    Sent her hands pushing over his shoulders, then twined her fingers in his hair; reached for him with her body, arching, pressing deeper into his crushing embrace. Reached for him with her lips, ardently returning the heated, hungry kisses—feeding his desire, satisfying hers.
    Beneath it all, she reached for him with her soul, with all the passion and love she had in her—this, this!
    her heart sang, was what should be.
    He claimed all she was, drank it in, took it all from her, and in the taking gave. He was far from gentle but she wanted no gentleness—she wanted fire and flame, passion and glory, desire and fulfillment. That was the promise in the hard lips that bruised hers, in his almost-brutal conquest of her mouth. She met each invasion with joy in her heart, with desire racing down her veins.
    Beneath them, the horses shifted; his attention deflected for the briefest moment—she felt him transfer the tightened reins to the hand at her waist. Then his lips hardened—he tipped her back, bending her over the arm at her back. His freed hand closed about her jaw, framing her face, holding her steady for an invasion so powerful, so devastating, it left her senses reeling.
    His hand left her face to close, hard, about her breast.
    She reacted as if he'd set a sexual brand to her body, arching, pressing nearer. She felt that first touch all the way to her toes, a pleasure unlike any other spearing beneath her skin, then melting, spreading. Her temperature rose—her skin heated. Like a fever, yet not—like the warmth from an inner flame. A flame he stoked as his fingers firmed, caressed, then provocatively kneaded. Through the thick velvet, he found the peak of her breast, and teased it with hard flicks.
    He swallowed her gasp and ruthlessly drove her on. She went willingly, eagerly, wanting all he would give her, all he would show her—wanting, ultimately, him. She put up no resistance. Instead, she focused what wit she still possessed on following his lead as swiftly as she could, on giving the response he demanded, on feeding and satisfying the hunger that was theirs—on making love with him. Gyles knew it, sensed it—victorious triumph surged through him. She was his—she would surrender completely and take him into her body. There was nothing to stop him having her. One slight lift and she would be off her saddle, in his lap, then he could take her to the grass…
    An image flashed across his brain—the grass was coarse, tufty, the ground rocky and uneven. The horses were near.
    The vision of her as he would see her, watching her as he took her, her glorious hair lying tangled over that unforgiving ground, her body unprotected from his onslaught, uncushioned as she struggled to take him all, to meet his thrusts, her eyes widening then hazing with pain…
    No!
    His recoil was so violent it loosened the grip of his lust, the unforgiving grip of his passions. Dragging in a breath, he fought to clear his head—fought the compulsion that beat steadily in his blood.