Amaryllis by Jayne Castle Page B

of a jungle canyon full of exotic flowers, and then he was falling straight into the mass of petals. The hot, heady fragrance of desire inundated his senses.
    “Lucas.” Amaryllis gave a soft, delicious cry and threw her arms around his neck. “Lucas.”
    She wanted him. The knowledge was dazzling. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. At least this was a case of mutual sexual synergy. The link had definitely worked both ways.
    He tightened his grip on her slender body until he could feel her high, firm breasts crushed against his chest. The weightless scarves of the flutter dress were no barrier to his hands. He groaned as he traced the graceful line of her spine down to the curve of her elegantly rounded buttocks.
    Amaryllis shivered in his grasp. She clung to him.
    Lucas tore his mouth free from hers. “So much for working off the side effects.” He scooped her up in his arms and started toward the closed door of what had to be a bedroom.
    Amaryllis clutched at his shoulders as he carried her down the hall. She looked up at him from beneath half-closed lashes. Her eyes were so deep he was sure he would drown.
    Somehow he got the door open without dropping her. Two more strides through the shadows brought him to the bed. Moonlight from the window revealed a prim, white bedspread.
    Lucas turned and fell backward across the bed. He pulled Amaryllis down on top of him. She sprawled on his chest amid a flurry of silken scarves.
    “I’ve never heard of anything like this happening,” Amaryllis gasped. “Honestly.”
    “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He caught her face between his hands and kissed her heavily. “Don’t worry about it.”
    “Yes, but—” She broke off and began to kiss him wildly. His mouth, his jaw, his ear. Her fingers dug fiercely into his shoulders.
    Euphoria roared through Lucas. No woman had ever attacked him with such gratifying enthusiasm. He rolled Amaryllis onto her back. The pins fell from her hair. Lucas wrapped one fist in the soft tresses. It was too dark to see the color of Amaryllis’s eyes, but there was no mistaking the sheen of excitement in them.
    He wedged one leg between her knees. The heat of her thighs threatened to burn through the fabric of his trousers. He covered her mouth with his own and fumbled with the scarves of the dress.
    It took forever to get one breast free, but the feel of Amaryllis’s tight nipple more than compensated for the effort. Lucas scraped his palm lightly over the delicate bud and then hesitated, afraid to bruise her with his big, calloused hands.
    “It’s all right.” She gripped the fabric of his shirt. “I won’t break.”
    Lucas uttered a thick, hoarse sound that was half groan and half laughter. It was the second time that evening that she had assured him that she wouldn’t break under his touch.
    “That’s good to know,” he said.
    He bent his head and reverently took her nipple into his mouth. Amaryllis made a soft, wordless sound and clenched her fingers in his hair.
    He slid his knee higher between her legs. The scarves fluttered anxiously for a moment and then parted with only token protest. He reached down and cupped the heated center of her warm body. His hand closed over panties that were already damp.
    Amaryllis went rigid beneath him. Her eyes widened in the moonlight.
    “You’re as ready as I am,” he breathed, awed by her response. He inhaled deeply, entranced by the searingly erotic, utterly feminine fragrance that drifted through the shadowed room. “It’s definitely not an illusion.”
    “Illusion?”
    “I figured that whatever it was that got me into this condition during the focus link was some kind of artificial stimulation,” he confided. “An illusion. But when I realized that you had felt it, too, I decided it didn’t much matter what had caused it. I don’t know about you, but this is real enough for me.”
    “Wait a second. You’re making love to me because you were sexually aroused by the