A Thrill to Remember by Lori Wilde Page B

me an excuse to punish you.”
    “But I’ve been a very bad girl. I’ve told the police where they can find you.”
    The playful tone in her voice let him know he hadn’t gone too far. He amazed himself at the boundaries he was able to cross with her.
    Helpless to resist her plea for more sex play, and wanting to give her as much pleasure as he possibly could before taking his own release, Caleb lowered her arms to her sides and then sank to his knees.
    “Uh-oh. That means I’m going to have to give you a thorough tongue-lashing.”
    He spanned the curve of her waist with his hands and then slowly began to run his tongue from her rib cage to her navel. She entangled her fingers in his hair and clasped him tightly against her belly. His mask must have scratched her tender flesh for she made a moaning, mewling sound of heightened awareness that nourished his own arousal. He ran a hand down the voluptuous curve of her hip to cup her buttocks, and discovered she still wore thong panties and thigh-high stockings.
    Man alive. She was volcano hot and seducing him without even moving.
    He hooked his thumbs under the ribbon of silk hugging those spectacularly feminine hips and started the exhilarating procedure of inching the flimsy morsel of fabric down her warm, firm thighs. She gasped, an erotic sound that reverberated like a prayer in his head.
    When he feathered his fingertips along her skin in languid exploration, her grip on his hair tightened. He touched the inside of her thigh, the top of her legs, drew circles on her tight fanny. He stroked every inch of the area between her navel and knees, except where he knew she most wanted him to touch.
    “You’re vicious,” she moaned. “I thought you promised me a tongue-lashing.”
    “Punishment, sweetheart, takes many forms.”
    “Bastard!” She uttered the word with clenched teeth.
    He laughed.
    She leaned back against the wall and arched her pelvis up toward him, planting her womanhood right near his face. Begging.
    “Brazen wench,” he declared.
    “If you can’t take the heat, then get out of the kitchen.”
    “I’ll ignore that, because I know you don’t really mean it.”
    Her sigh in response was like a caress in the darkness, inching down his spine, spilling through his bloodstream, setting him on fire with escalating desire for her. Swelling need seized him and his pulse knocked wildly in his temple. To wrest back a modicum of restrait, he compelled himself to disregard the provocative smell of her, the seductive rhythm of her undulating hips, by resolutely turning his attention back to the thong caught around her knees.
    He skimmed the scrap of satin down to her ankles, his hands brushing against the enticing silkiness of her nylons.
    “Step out of your panties,” he demanded.
    She obeyed.
    “You really are as mercurial as the wind,” he said. “One minute aggressive, the next coy, the next acquiescent. Who are you, really?”
    “My identity is secret, just as you are a complete mystery to me.”
    She liked not knowing him. Controlled, sensible, honest-to-a-fault Meggie liked adventure and rowdiness and subterfuge in the bedroom. As long as he remained behind the mask, as long as he was the sensual, roguish Don Juan, he could provide her with all the things she needed. But what could he do for her as plain, ordinary Caleb Greenleaf? The unsettling thought disturbed him and quashed his libido.
    But not for long.
    “I’m naked, and now you must get naked, too,” she declared.
    The mental image of her standing completely unclothed before him dispelled his self-doubts and goaded illicit visions of untying his leather pants, freeing his ferocious erection and plummeting deep inside her feminine recess.
    But not yet. She deserved much more than a blazing quickie.
    She began unbuttoning his shirt, her cool fingers tracking lightly over the heated flesh she slowly unveiled. She plunged her fingers into the curls of hair on his chest.
    Caleb groaned,