Calder Storm by Janet Dailey Page B

found herself wishing there was a way to take the mundane and make it rare—as rare as the feelings within.
    The instant that thought crossed her mind, she banished it as foolish, as the kind of thought that invariably ended in disappointment. Even though the number of lovers in her life had been few, it was a lesson she had learned well not to let her expectations get too high.
    â€œWhat is it?” His hand touched her cheek, his gaze narrowing on her in sharpened study.
    â€œNothing.” Her smile of assurance was quick, a little too quick. She saw at once that he didn’t believe her.
    â€œSloan…” he began.
    Instinctively she silenced him with a kiss that was as hungry for love as her heart was. But her heart’s hunger wasn’t something a kiss alone could satisfy.
    She rolled her mouth over and around his lips, murmuring against them, “We’ve already talked too much. Let’s not spoil it with more.”
    With her lips moving hotly all over his, talking was the last thing on Trey’s mind. Earlier he had been willing to indulge her essentially playful antics, but this was what he wanted, what he needed.
    Using the weight and length of his body, he pressed her backward onto the mattress, not caring that the spread still covered it. He made short work of stripping away her lacy bra and panties and shedding his own clothes.
    As he rejoined her, he was glad of the room’s light that allowed him to see every feminine inch of her. There was high satisfaction in knowing she was his to explore. And there was much to discover, from the rounded shape of her small, firm breasts and the rosy brown nubs of her nipples to the sexy little bulge of her stomach and the silky matt of her pubic hair.
    The pressure grew with every touch and every taste, the heat mounting like a wildfire about to rage out of control. He didn’t need the urging of her hands and hips or the little mewling sounds that came from her throat. The instincts that drove him, shifting him onto her, were much more primitive.
    Some sane part of him registered the wondrous cry of pleasure that slipped from her when he filled her. Then it all blurred together, bodies straining in rhythm, blood pounding, hands digging, the ache intensifying, coiling into an ever tightening circle. The release, when it came, was like an explosion of sensation that shook and shattered even as it melted away all the tension, leaving them both limp and trembling.
    Body slick with sweat, Trey drew her along with him when he rolled off her and onto his back, lying in a loose, spent sprawl, yet keeping one arm securely hooked around her. His heart had yet to slow its rapid beat, and his chest continued its rise and fall with the quick, deep breaths he took.
    But nothing registered as strongly as the feel of Sloan curled against him, the feathering of her hair on his arm, and the warmthof her breath on his skin. She stirred, and he automatically tightened his hold to keep her close.
    His own action surprised him. With other women, this was usually when he tried to figure out some tactful way to slip free and get dressed. But this time was different. Everything was different, Trey realized, and it had been from the first moment he met her. He had felt that it was different then, and the feeling was even stronger now.
    In a slow, catlike movement, Sloan lightly rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I suppose we should get dressed and go eat, but I don’t feel like moving.”
    â€œMe either,” Trey agreed, his voice a low, lazy rumble. “Too bad we can’t call room service.”
    There was amusement in the dismissing breath she released. “You can forget that.”
    â€œI know.” He rolled onto his side, shifting her from his body onto the bed, giving him his first look at the contented glow in her eyes. “I’m in no big hurry, anyway. Are you?”
    â€œNo.” Her hand came up and traced the