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Authors: Iris Johansen
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rouse herself to answer when it took so much effort. "Ryker," she said, the word sounding slurred and far away, even to her own ears.
He smiled grimly. "Well, that's something, anyway. How do you feel?"
She smiled dreamily. "Wonderful." Then her face clouded in confusion as she once more felt that hot electric surge of sensation go through her. "No." She shook her head vaguely. "I don't know. Something."
She heard a murmured curse from the man in the wing chair, and suddenly he was sitting beside her on the bed, his hands gathering hers in a warm, secure clasp. A very tactile dream, she thought contentedly, as her own hands tightened on his. "Listen, Tania, and try to understand. What you're feeling is going to get worse when some of the sedation wears off." His gray eyes were holding hers with compulsive force, as if trying to pierce the veil that was enveloping her senses. "I'd give you something to put you out again, but I can't risk it without knowing precisely what they used on you. It would be too dangerous. Do you understand?"
The face looking down at her was oddly taut and
strained. There were graven lines on either side of his beautifully cut mouth hinting at a power and sensuality, that aroused her even through the dark haze surrounding her. Yes, a beautiful mouth.
Then his hands were on her bare shoulders, shaking her. "Do you understand?"
Understand what? She'd forgotten what he'd been saying. But he obviously wasn't going to leave her alone until she answered him. "I understand," she said. It wasn't nearly so slurred this time, she thought with a vague sense of pride.
"I hope to hell you do," he muttered, exhaling slowly. One hand left her shoulder to run restlessly through his dark hair. "Look, I'm going to help you in the only way I can. Trust me, okay?"
She nodded happily, her dark eyes dreamily content. Why had she been so wary of him at that first meeting? She wondered. There was nothing to be afraid of in the dark, intent face of the man above her. Then the hot tide flowed over her again, and she gasped at the aching need it left in its wake. She knew a wrenching emptiness in her loins, and the tips of her breasts were suddenly so sensitive that the touch of the satin sheet against them was almost painful.
Ryker murmured an obscenity that would have shocked her if she hadn't been lost in an intensity of sensation that was tearing her apart. "So help me God, if I had Betz here right now, I'd strangle him," he snarled savagely, his eyes blazing. He leaned forward and gently brushed her forehead with his lips. "Hold on, sweet, its going to be all right in a little while. I'll take care of it."
Then he was on his feet, pulling the cream sweatshirt over his head and tossing it carelessly on the wing chair. He turned to face her, his hands working swiftly at his belt. "Do you know how many hundreds of times I've
thought of having you like this?" he asked thickly. "With that strong, lovely body naked and willing to take me into you? I think I know your body now better than my own. I've watched those video tapes of your performances until I've almost worn them out." He slid his jeans and briefs over his hips, his gaze still fixed on her flushed, dreamy face. "I know how you move, how your expressions change like quicksilver. I love those flyaway eyebrows. I've wanted to run a finger over them more times than I can count." He smiled, his harsh face oddly tender. "You're always laughing. Even when the role calls for you to be sad and pensive, the laughter is lurking, waiting to burst free. I think that touches me more than anything else about you."
He stepped out of his loafers and moved closer to the bed, totally naked now, his lean, whipcord body gleaming like polished gold in the dimness of the room. He shook his head. "No, that's not true. It's the totality of you that obsesses me." His face became grim. "Even an unimaginative bastard like Betz recognized the signs that you'd become special to
He smiled grimly. "Well, that's something, anyway. How do you feel?"
She smiled dreamily. "Wonderful." Then her face clouded in confusion as she once more felt that hot electric surge of sensation go through her. "No." She shook her head vaguely. "I don't know. Something."
She heard a murmured curse from the man in the wing chair, and suddenly he was sitting beside her on the bed, his hands gathering hers in a warm, secure clasp. A very tactile dream, she thought contentedly, as her own hands tightened on his. "Listen, Tania, and try to understand. What you're feeling is going to get worse when some of the sedation wears off." His gray eyes were holding hers with compulsive force, as if trying to pierce the veil that was enveloping her senses. "I'd give you something to put you out again, but I can't risk it without knowing precisely what they used on you. It would be too dangerous. Do you understand?"
The face looking down at her was oddly taut and
strained. There were graven lines on either side of his beautifully cut mouth hinting at a power and sensuality, that aroused her even through the dark haze surrounding her. Yes, a beautiful mouth.
Then his hands were on her bare shoulders, shaking her. "Do you understand?"
Understand what? She'd forgotten what he'd been saying. But he obviously wasn't going to leave her alone until she answered him. "I understand," she said. It wasn't nearly so slurred this time, she thought with a vague sense of pride.
"I hope to hell you do," he muttered, exhaling slowly. One hand left her shoulder to run restlessly through his dark hair. "Look, I'm going to help you in the only way I can. Trust me, okay?"
She nodded happily, her dark eyes dreamily content. Why had she been so wary of him at that first meeting? She wondered. There was nothing to be afraid of in the dark, intent face of the man above her. Then the hot tide flowed over her again, and she gasped at the aching need it left in its wake. She knew a wrenching emptiness in her loins, and the tips of her breasts were suddenly so sensitive that the touch of the satin sheet against them was almost painful.
Ryker murmured an obscenity that would have shocked her if she hadn't been lost in an intensity of sensation that was tearing her apart. "So help me God, if I had Betz here right now, I'd strangle him," he snarled savagely, his eyes blazing. He leaned forward and gently brushed her forehead with his lips. "Hold on, sweet, its going to be all right in a little while. I'll take care of it."
Then he was on his feet, pulling the cream sweatshirt over his head and tossing it carelessly on the wing chair. He turned to face her, his hands working swiftly at his belt. "Do you know how many hundreds of times I've
thought of having you like this?" he asked thickly. "With that strong, lovely body naked and willing to take me into you? I think I know your body now better than my own. I've watched those video tapes of your performances until I've almost worn them out." He slid his jeans and briefs over his hips, his gaze still fixed on her flushed, dreamy face. "I know how you move, how your expressions change like quicksilver. I love those flyaway eyebrows. I've wanted to run a finger over them more times than I can count." He smiled, his harsh face oddly tender. "You're always laughing. Even when the role calls for you to be sad and pensive, the laughter is lurking, waiting to burst free. I think that touches me more than anything else about you."
He stepped out of his loafers and moved closer to the bed, totally naked now, his lean, whipcord body gleaming like polished gold in the dimness of the room. He shook his head. "No, that's not true. It's the totality of you that obsesses me." His face became grim. "Even an unimaginative bastard like Betz recognized the signs that you'd become special to
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