Read Online In Search of the Dove by REBECCA YORK - Free Book Online

a frisson of pure delight traveled along her nerve endings.
    Michael tensed. There was no way to misinterpret what the drug had done to her. Dove was rumored to be a powerful aphrodisiac. Apparently the rumors were correct.
    She moaned, and he realized she’d reached the point of desperation. Pushing up her shirt, she seized his hand and cupped it against her breast. Through the stretchy fabric of her bra he could feel that her nipple was already hard. As she pressed his hand against herself, it beaded to an even tighter point.
    He heard her gasp and her hips began to rock urgently against his. Her skirt had ridden up her thighs. Without thinking about what he was doing, he wrapped his free arm around her. Bending his leg, he wedged it high up between hers, giving her something solid to press against. She moaned and rocked more urgently, her whole body trembling now. In the next second he felt her tense and then shudder.
    “Jessica?” he questioned.
    “That was so nice. Thank you.”
    “I didn’t do much.”
    Realizing that his hand was still against her breast, he drew it out from under her shirt. With a gentle finger under her chin, he tipped her face up so that he could look down into her hazel eyes. They were dilated—and very beautiful.
    “You’re a very sexy man.” The words came out unfiltered through the brain’s usual censoring mechanism.
    Would she remember this conversation? he wondered. And how would she feel about it and her uninhibited behavior?
    “Jessica, perhaps it’s that Dove is a very sexy drug,” he tried.
    “Mmmm...maybe...” She snuggled against him and pressed her hands to his hard chest. He suspected her arousal was beginning to build again.
    His fingers moved along the line of her jaw and tangled in her curly hair. It felt bouncy and alive and very appealing—like the woman herself. He had no right to be sharing this kind of intimacy with her. To be enjoying this kind of intimacy, he corrected himself. Because, despite any noble intentions he might have, he was enjoying it, very much. It was impossible not to respond to her and her unleashed sensuality. Even if she were held enthralled by a powerful drug, he recognized that he was reacting to something much deeper than its influence.
    “Baby, you’re so damn vulnerable right now,” he muttered.
    She gazed up at him trustingly, and he had the odd feeling that she read him very accurately. “On the outside you’re tough. Inside you’re”—she searched for the right word—”good.”
    Sure. Saint Michael, he thought. “You hardly know me.”
    “I know you. Those men who gave me the injection wanted to hurt me. You never would.”
    He stared down at her. My God, he’d almost forgotten how she’d gotten this way in the first place. The thought of what those bastards had been going to do to her made his stomach suddenly churn.
    She pressed her cheek against his, enjoying the bristly scrape of his beard. His fingers stroked her arm, and she heard the touch as the sound of sea grass whipping in the wind. With a little whimper, she fumbled for his hand. He knew the drug-induced passion was overwhelming her.
    “Please—” She was burning up with need, and there was no way to hold back the fire.
    “Easy, baby. I’m here.”
    Sitting up, she unbuttoned her yellow shirt and slipped it from her shoulders. Then she unfastened the skirt and drew it up over her head. In her wisp of a bra and lacy panties she looked like an erotic fantasy.
    When she unhooked her bra and tossed it to the end of the bed with her other clothing, his breath caught in his throat. Her breasts were high and firm and very tantalizing. He was unable to suppress a groan as she pulled him back into her arms.
    Saint Michael, he thought again as she began to writhe against him. No man should have to endure a night like this. Heaven and hell mixed together. Yet if he let himself make love to her, he would be no better than the men who had drugged her.
    One hand