An Innocent Affair by Kim Lawrence

offered. A strange cry ripped from his throat as his mouth came down on hers, driving her back against the mattress. His mouth wasn’t gentle; it was hot and hungry. His tongue plunged repeatedly into the warm moistness of her mouth in a deliberate parody of a more intimate invasion of her body. And all the while his mouth plundered hers his hands were moving over her body with feverish haste, moulding her flesh to his needs.
    When his mouth moved to her taut, aching breasts, tasting, suckling, her back arched and she cried out without being sure what it was she so desperately needed. She couldn’t see any way it would be possible to assuage the hunger he had awoken.
    He was astride her, his knees braced either side of her hips. He was too far away, she thought fretfully—too far.
    He leant back and deliberately placed the heel of one hand against the soft mound at the apex of her legs. Her head thrashed wildly against the pillow and her body pushed rhythmically against his hand. His fingers slowly curled until he could feel the moist heat through the fine fabric of her pants.
    â€˜How do you get these off over the plaster?’ he asked thickly. Before she could reply she heard the sound of tearing fabric. ‘I applied a bit of lateral thinking.’
    Hope had never heard brute force and impatience called this before, but she didn’t pursue the issue—especially as he had begun to stroke the satiny inner aspect of her thighs.
    â€˜Alex…’ she moaned.
    â€˜What, love?’ The fine tremors that intermittently racked his powerful frame communicated themselves to her through his fingertips. The skin was drawn tightly over his flushed face; his eyes appeared almost black. He looked as if he was struggling against restraints of his own making.
    When his fingers explored deeper, moving delicately into the warm, wet valley between her legs, she openedher mouth to cry out, but the sound of her voice was lost in the recesses of his warm mouth.
    â€˜Don’t fight it, angel.’ The erotic throb of his voice was against the base of her throat. The new growth on his jaw abraded her soft skin. ‘You like this, don’t you?’
    â€˜It’s good,’ she gasped. ‘I don’t think I can bear it, Alex!’ It was delicate, relentless torture. All there was in her world were the sensations that were building inside her trembling body. Even if she hadn’t been tied down by the cast she wouldn’t have been able to move; her lower body was paralysed by warm, liquid heat.
    â€˜Hold on.’ She realised he meant it literally as he placed her hands against the bars of the iron bedstead. ‘I like watching you,’ he confided huskily, his eyes fixed in fascination on her flushed face, her parted lips and half-closed eyes. ‘You can’t hide anything from me.’
    Her body continued to move restlessly under the delicate expertise of his hands. ‘Do you want me to?’
    â€˜No.’
    It sounded to Hope as if his breathing had gone just as haywire as her own. His big body slid down beside her, and the provocative thrust of his rigid arousal against her thigh made her bite her lips and moan his name softly as a sensual thrill lanced through her.
    He was sliding lower, his tongue gliding slowly over her warm, smooth skin, drawing a line down her abdomen. The small indentation above her navel seemed to fascinate him. Hope’s hands tightened on the bedhead as he paused to explore with wet, darting forays. One hand moved to one smooth hip, and she felt impelled to apologise huskily.
    â€˜I’m sorry—the cast. I’m a bit like a stranded whale.’
    He lifted his head and looked consideringly at her supine form. With shocking deliberation he moved both hands between her legs, until the tips of his fingerstouched the soft protective thatch. She gave a sigh of relief when he parted her legs. She couldn’t swallow; her throat was