intently for a long time. “Why not?” he asked softly. “I might enjoy being chased by you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t enjoy it,” she muttered, trying to break the light but steely hold that big arm had around her shoulders. “And will you stop treating me like a new toy?”
“That isn’t how I think of you at all,” he said under his breath. “Not at all.” His hand moved up to her bun and began removing pins. She tried to stop him and only managed to pull out a few long, dark hairs in the process, so she gave up. He laid the bobby pins on the table and smoothed her hair down over her shoulders, as if he loved its silky length.
“It feels like satin,” he said quietly, stroking it. “I’d forgotten how sensuous long hair can be.”
“Been dating bald women, have we?” she said with a nervous laugh. “You’ve had your fun, now suppose you let me go home?”
His hand moved around to her face, devastating as it traced her soft skin and touched her bow of a mouth. His dark eyes were devoid of laughter now; intent and searching and curious. “You don’t look twenty-eight,” he told her. He bent his head. “I want you, Amy.”
Before she could find a sensible answer, his warm mouth was covering hers. She wanted to protest, but she liked what he was doing too much. His lips coaxed hers to part for him, to allow the slow, rhythmic penetration of his tongue. Her fingers clenched in the thick hair over his chest, and he stiffened.
“Yes,” he whispered against her lips, “yes, I like that. Do it again.”
Her eyes opened, gray as a rainy day as they searched his. Her fingers contracted and he smiled. It was a kind of smile she barely remembered from her disastrous near-engagement, a possessive and totally male look that hinted of conquest, delighted dominance. She should have resented it, but he was the kind of man who made arrogance seem natural.
She watched as his mouth came back to hers, tenderly probing, teasing. Her body reacted restlessly to the building passion, moving against his involuntarily.
“You feel it now, don’t you?” he whispered. His free hand moved to her back and turned her into his body, so that her breasts were pressed against his broad, warm chest. He kissed her, and even as his mouth began taking possession, he moved, so that her breasts were drawn back and forth against him, so that the tips became sensitive and began to harden. Her blouse and bra were thin and his shirt was completely out of the way now, and when he laughed softly, she knew it was because he could feel what had happened to her.
“This is delicious,” he whispered. His mouth slid down to her throat, and he inhaled the flowery scent of her skin while he learned the delicate lines with his lips. “You even taste like a virgin,” he breathed, drawing his tongue along the throbbing pulse under the warm skin.
Her face turned into his shoulder and hid there, because she was vulnerable now and he knew it. She had no secrets from him.
His lips touched her closed eyelids, nudging her face out of hiding. “Amy…” he murmured as he found her mouth again.
This time, there was no teasing. He arched her body against his, and the pressure of his hard mouth forced her head down into the crook of his elbow. He nudged her mouth open under his and began a devouring, expertly sensual exploration of it that made her tremble and ache in his embrace.
“I’d forgotten how exciting it could be, to kiss,” he whispered against her yielding lips. “I could get drunk on your mouth.”
“Don’t stop,” she heard herself moan.
“How could I,” he murmured, his breath loud as he bent again, “when I’m as hungry as you are?”
His arms contracted, and for a long time she fed on his mouth, liking its hard warmth, even liking the bristles where he needed another shave, her arms around his neck now, her body pressed so closely to his that she could feel his heart slamming against her through the muscular walls of
“Well, I wouldn’t enjoy it,” she muttered, trying to break the light but steely hold that big arm had around her shoulders. “And will you stop treating me like a new toy?”
“That isn’t how I think of you at all,” he said under his breath. “Not at all.” His hand moved up to her bun and began removing pins. She tried to stop him and only managed to pull out a few long, dark hairs in the process, so she gave up. He laid the bobby pins on the table and smoothed her hair down over her shoulders, as if he loved its silky length.
“It feels like satin,” he said quietly, stroking it. “I’d forgotten how sensuous long hair can be.”
“Been dating bald women, have we?” she said with a nervous laugh. “You’ve had your fun, now suppose you let me go home?”
His hand moved around to her face, devastating as it traced her soft skin and touched her bow of a mouth. His dark eyes were devoid of laughter now; intent and searching and curious. “You don’t look twenty-eight,” he told her. He bent his head. “I want you, Amy.”
Before she could find a sensible answer, his warm mouth was covering hers. She wanted to protest, but she liked what he was doing too much. His lips coaxed hers to part for him, to allow the slow, rhythmic penetration of his tongue. Her fingers clenched in the thick hair over his chest, and he stiffened.
“Yes,” he whispered against her lips, “yes, I like that. Do it again.”
Her eyes opened, gray as a rainy day as they searched his. Her fingers contracted and he smiled. It was a kind of smile she barely remembered from her disastrous near-engagement, a possessive and totally male look that hinted of conquest, delighted dominance. She should have resented it, but he was the kind of man who made arrogance seem natural.
She watched as his mouth came back to hers, tenderly probing, teasing. Her body reacted restlessly to the building passion, moving against his involuntarily.
“You feel it now, don’t you?” he whispered. His free hand moved to her back and turned her into his body, so that her breasts were pressed against his broad, warm chest. He kissed her, and even as his mouth began taking possession, he moved, so that her breasts were drawn back and forth against him, so that the tips became sensitive and began to harden. Her blouse and bra were thin and his shirt was completely out of the way now, and when he laughed softly, she knew it was because he could feel what had happened to her.
“This is delicious,” he whispered. His mouth slid down to her throat, and he inhaled the flowery scent of her skin while he learned the delicate lines with his lips. “You even taste like a virgin,” he breathed, drawing his tongue along the throbbing pulse under the warm skin.
Her face turned into his shoulder and hid there, because she was vulnerable now and he knew it. She had no secrets from him.
His lips touched her closed eyelids, nudging her face out of hiding. “Amy…” he murmured as he found her mouth again.
This time, there was no teasing. He arched her body against his, and the pressure of his hard mouth forced her head down into the crook of his elbow. He nudged her mouth open under his and began a devouring, expertly sensual exploration of it that made her tremble and ache in his embrace.
“I’d forgotten how exciting it could be, to kiss,” he whispered against her yielding lips. “I could get drunk on your mouth.”
“Don’t stop,” she heard herself moan.
“How could I,” he murmured, his breath loud as he bent again, “when I’m as hungry as you are?”
His arms contracted, and for a long time she fed on his mouth, liking its hard warmth, even liking the bristles where he needed another shave, her arms around his neck now, her body pressed so closely to his that she could feel his heart slamming against her through the muscular walls of
Similar Books
