Read Online The Worldly Widow by Elizabeth Thornton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Thornton
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mercy. A wave of feminine power surged through Annabelle.
With increasing confidence, she touched her fingers to his dark head. His hair was just as she had imagined—crisp, thick, healthy. Very tentatively, she tested the hard, corded muscles of his left arm. Under her exploration they rippled, and she pulled back her hand in alarm. A full minute elapsed before her breathing returned to normal.
With the pads of her fingers, lightly, cautiously, she stroked the dark mat of hair which covered his naked torso. Soft and silky, she decided, and as sleek as an otter ' s pelt. The sleeping man betrayed not a flicker of consciousness as her fingers skimmed over him.
In the secure knowledge that the object of her interest was drugged into oblivion, she became bolder. She began to play with him, feathering light kisses along every part of his exposed anatomy. She felt deliciously decadent—and utterly beyond his power. His masculine scent, a combination of sweat, soap, and something indeterminate, assailed her nostrils. She buried her nose against his chest and inhaled. Though his scent was not unpleasant, it was unequivocally disturbing. She drew back, letting the thought revolve in her mind.
Becoming more relaxed by the minute, she slipped under the quilted coverlet and stretched out, full length, beside him. Steadfastly she gazed into his sleep-softened features. She blinked once; she blinked twice. A slow, drugging lethargy began to steal over her. She decided to give in to it, but only for a moment. Her head floated down to the soft, inviting pillow.
" A nnabelle. "
Sh e heard her name as if from a gr eat distance. Her slumberous thoughts absorbed the word, testing the dark, syrupy flavor of the voice which called to her.
"Annabelle, " said the voice again, and she felt it pouring over her like warm treacle—wet, thick, and infinitely sweet.
She tasted it on her tongue and opened her lips to take in more of it. It pooled, overflowed, and coursed down from throat to ankle, submerging her in its potent warmth, clinging to her like a lover ' s embrace. Danger! she thought, and felt herself, like an unsuspecting bee drawn to the jam pot, caught and held by the sweetness which had attracted her. She began to struggle.
Dalmar groaned as her fist caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder. He captured her wrists and held them over her head.
Anna belle ' s eyes flew open. For a terrified moment she stared up at the dark masculine shadow which loomed over her. Slowly, by degrees, she came to herself. Her tame lion had wakened, she thought drowsily, and smiled up at him.
Her li ps were taken in a kiss that was anything but tame. When he drew back his head, Annabelle saw the flame in his eyes, and the sensual flare of his nostrils.
"David, " she breathed on a note of alarm. She became conscious of several things at once. She was naked beneath the quilt, and the man who was sprawled so suggestively over the top half of her body, pinning her with his weight, was as naked as she.
She saw the stark and uncompromising hunger in his eyes and said his name more sternly, "David! Your arm! Your shoulder! Don ' t… "
He kissed her into silence, and though she squirmed beneath him, she was too solicitous of his injuries to struggle in earnest.
She dragged her head away and hoarsely managed to get out, "I don ' t wish to hurt you. Please, David, don ' t make me fight you. "
"Don ' t then, " he muttered against her throat. "Give in to me. Please, Annabelle. We both know this moment was inevitable. "
She felt the upward movement of his hand at her waist. It molded itself to her breast, and the air was suddenly stripped from her lungs. As the pads of his fingers grazed first one sensitive nipple, then the other, pulling gently on the swollen peaks, she cried out softly.
"Yes, " he murmured. "Yes. Like this. Give in to me, " and his mouth, hotly moist, followed the path of his fingers.
She felt the hard pull at her breast as
With increasing confidence, she touched her fingers to his dark head. His hair was just as she had imagined—crisp, thick, healthy. Very tentatively, she tested the hard, corded muscles of his left arm. Under her exploration they rippled, and she pulled back her hand in alarm. A full minute elapsed before her breathing returned to normal.
With the pads of her fingers, lightly, cautiously, she stroked the dark mat of hair which covered his naked torso. Soft and silky, she decided, and as sleek as an otter ' s pelt. The sleeping man betrayed not a flicker of consciousness as her fingers skimmed over him.
In the secure knowledge that the object of her interest was drugged into oblivion, she became bolder. She began to play with him, feathering light kisses along every part of his exposed anatomy. She felt deliciously decadent—and utterly beyond his power. His masculine scent, a combination of sweat, soap, and something indeterminate, assailed her nostrils. She buried her nose against his chest and inhaled. Though his scent was not unpleasant, it was unequivocally disturbing. She drew back, letting the thought revolve in her mind.
Becoming more relaxed by the minute, she slipped under the quilted coverlet and stretched out, full length, beside him. Steadfastly she gazed into his sleep-softened features. She blinked once; she blinked twice. A slow, drugging lethargy began to steal over her. She decided to give in to it, but only for a moment. Her head floated down to the soft, inviting pillow.
" A nnabelle. "
Sh e heard her name as if from a gr eat distance. Her slumberous thoughts absorbed the word, testing the dark, syrupy flavor of the voice which called to her.
"Annabelle, " said the voice again, and she felt it pouring over her like warm treacle—wet, thick, and infinitely sweet.
She tasted it on her tongue and opened her lips to take in more of it. It pooled, overflowed, and coursed down from throat to ankle, submerging her in its potent warmth, clinging to her like a lover ' s embrace. Danger! she thought, and felt herself, like an unsuspecting bee drawn to the jam pot, caught and held by the sweetness which had attracted her. She began to struggle.
Dalmar groaned as her fist caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder. He captured her wrists and held them over her head.
Anna belle ' s eyes flew open. For a terrified moment she stared up at the dark masculine shadow which loomed over her. Slowly, by degrees, she came to herself. Her tame lion had wakened, she thought drowsily, and smiled up at him.
Her li ps were taken in a kiss that was anything but tame. When he drew back his head, Annabelle saw the flame in his eyes, and the sensual flare of his nostrils.
"David, " she breathed on a note of alarm. She became conscious of several things at once. She was naked beneath the quilt, and the man who was sprawled so suggestively over the top half of her body, pinning her with his weight, was as naked as she.
She saw the stark and uncompromising hunger in his eyes and said his name more sternly, "David! Your arm! Your shoulder! Don ' t… "
He kissed her into silence, and though she squirmed beneath him, she was too solicitous of his injuries to struggle in earnest.
She dragged her head away and hoarsely managed to get out, "I don ' t wish to hurt you. Please, David, don ' t make me fight you. "
"Don ' t then, " he muttered against her throat. "Give in to me. Please, Annabelle. We both know this moment was inevitable. "
She felt the upward movement of his hand at her waist. It molded itself to her breast, and the air was suddenly stripped from her lungs. As the pads of his fingers grazed first one sensitive nipple, then the other, pulling gently on the swollen peaks, she cried out softly.
"Yes, " he murmured. "Yes. Like this. Give in to me, " and his mouth, hotly moist, followed the path of his fingers.
She felt the hard pull at her breast as
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