smothered cry and hooked her hands around his shoulders. He slid his hand lower to test the slick evidence of desire.
She was dry.
Shocked disbelief juddered through him. His hand stilled at the junction of her thighs. He wrenched his head up and stared into her face.
The face of a woman ripped by talons of desire.
What the hell was going on?
Her head tilted back, her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parted in ecstasy. Her chest heaved as she fought for air. She moaned again. A rich, female, passionate sound. Her long slender legs framed his hips. She lay willing and open to his invasion.
âTake me,â she pleaded in a guttural voice, her hands kneading his shoulders.
She wanted him. Everything she did told him she wanted him.
Was he going mad? Carefully he stroked her sex again.
Not a trace of feminine dew.
Another moan. She pressed herself into his hand in a paroxysm of need.
His fingers clenched as confusion rocked his mind. Damn it, what part of her was a lie?
She was a goddess in his arms, everything he wanted. But what did she want? She wasnât ready, whatever passion she pretended.
He fought the overwhelming impulse to plunge into her, although the delay nearly blew the top of his head off. Heâd rushed her into this, his ravenous craving setting the pace. Did she need more preparation? He found the small fleshy protuberance and gently stimulated it.
âYes, oh, yes,â she hissed, grinding herself against his fingers in rapture.
Except rapture would make her moist and hot. Carefully, because dry as she was he could cause her discomfort, he pushed one finger into her. She surged up and bit him on the shoulder. The sharp nip of her teeth shot a blast of reaction through to his balls. He jerked and almost lost control.
All the time, his finger rasped in her dry passage.
Hell, he couldnât be mistaken. Damn it all to Hades and back. This woman showed no physical signs of sexual response. Although she did a marvelous job of counterfeiting passion.
âStop it,â he snarled, snatching his hand from her. She twisted as if sheâd die unless he took her in the next second. The dishonesty of it all suddenly disgusted him. He ripped himself away and knelt over her, furious and naked and, Devil take her, nearly blind with unsatisfied lust. âI said stop it!â
As abruptly as if heâd tossed a bucket of icy water over her, the writhing siren vanished. When she opened her eyes, the topaz stare was clear and unglazed with passion.
Of course it was. That elaborate performance hadnât been real.
What was real, unfortunately, was the excruciating ache in his nuts and a cock as hard and hot as an iron brand. He set his jaw and struggled to hold onto what few shreds of control he retained.
Heâd never had a lover who hadnât responded. It stung his vanity that Olivia was as cold in his arms as a tin automaton. And filled him with a regret that was the strongest emotion a woman had roused in years.
âWhatâs wrong?â She drew herself up against the head-board and curled her legs under her. She looked annoyed and not at all frustrated. He, on the other hand, harbored enough frustration to fill an ocean.
He collapsed on his back and ground his teeth as he strove to master his need. He didnât touch her. If he touched her, he thought heâd explode. He wanted her with ferocious ardor. And he wanted her now. Hell, hunger was a raging fire that threatened to immolate him to a pile of smoking ash.
Lord save him, heâd have to stay hungry.
âYou donât have to pretend,â he said with difficulty, staring upward through unseeing eyes. His heart battered at his chest as if it fought to escape. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides in time with each rasping breath.
âPretend?â She sounded bewildered, lost. As though his behavior made no sense.
âChrist Jesus, Olivia!â
She stifled a gasp and flinched back
She was dry.
Shocked disbelief juddered through him. His hand stilled at the junction of her thighs. He wrenched his head up and stared into her face.
The face of a woman ripped by talons of desire.
What the hell was going on?
Her head tilted back, her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parted in ecstasy. Her chest heaved as she fought for air. She moaned again. A rich, female, passionate sound. Her long slender legs framed his hips. She lay willing and open to his invasion.
âTake me,â she pleaded in a guttural voice, her hands kneading his shoulders.
She wanted him. Everything she did told him she wanted him.
Was he going mad? Carefully he stroked her sex again.
Not a trace of feminine dew.
Another moan. She pressed herself into his hand in a paroxysm of need.
His fingers clenched as confusion rocked his mind. Damn it, what part of her was a lie?
She was a goddess in his arms, everything he wanted. But what did she want? She wasnât ready, whatever passion she pretended.
He fought the overwhelming impulse to plunge into her, although the delay nearly blew the top of his head off. Heâd rushed her into this, his ravenous craving setting the pace. Did she need more preparation? He found the small fleshy protuberance and gently stimulated it.
âYes, oh, yes,â she hissed, grinding herself against his fingers in rapture.
Except rapture would make her moist and hot. Carefully, because dry as she was he could cause her discomfort, he pushed one finger into her. She surged up and bit him on the shoulder. The sharp nip of her teeth shot a blast of reaction through to his balls. He jerked and almost lost control.
All the time, his finger rasped in her dry passage.
Hell, he couldnât be mistaken. Damn it all to Hades and back. This woman showed no physical signs of sexual response. Although she did a marvelous job of counterfeiting passion.
âStop it,â he snarled, snatching his hand from her. She twisted as if sheâd die unless he took her in the next second. The dishonesty of it all suddenly disgusted him. He ripped himself away and knelt over her, furious and naked and, Devil take her, nearly blind with unsatisfied lust. âI said stop it!â
As abruptly as if heâd tossed a bucket of icy water over her, the writhing siren vanished. When she opened her eyes, the topaz stare was clear and unglazed with passion.
Of course it was. That elaborate performance hadnât been real.
What was real, unfortunately, was the excruciating ache in his nuts and a cock as hard and hot as an iron brand. He set his jaw and struggled to hold onto what few shreds of control he retained.
Heâd never had a lover who hadnât responded. It stung his vanity that Olivia was as cold in his arms as a tin automaton. And filled him with a regret that was the strongest emotion a woman had roused in years.
âWhatâs wrong?â She drew herself up against the head-board and curled her legs under her. She looked annoyed and not at all frustrated. He, on the other hand, harbored enough frustration to fill an ocean.
He collapsed on his back and ground his teeth as he strove to master his need. He didnât touch her. If he touched her, he thought heâd explode. He wanted her with ferocious ardor. And he wanted her now. Hell, hunger was a raging fire that threatened to immolate him to a pile of smoking ash.
Lord save him, heâd have to stay hungry.
âYou donât have to pretend,â he said with difficulty, staring upward through unseeing eyes. His heart battered at his chest as if it fought to escape. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides in time with each rasping breath.
âPretend?â She sounded bewildered, lost. As though his behavior made no sense.
âChrist Jesus, Olivia!â
She stifled a gasp and flinched back
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