Created In Fire (Art of Love Series) by Donna McDonald Page B

roughly tugged at the cloth separating them.
    Then Michael stopped, realizing that if he let this mood rule their love-making, he might actually hurt her. His blood was racing. His heart was pounding, and his erection was so insistent that holding back hurt.
    He wanted Carrie too fiercely to be gentle and was pent-up from two months of waiting to be with her again.
    No , he thought. Not like this . He was not making love to her like this.
    Michael kissed her deeply, and then rolled off her and away.
    “Give me a minute or two. It’s been a long time and I need to calm down,” Michael said softly, swallowing hard and closing his eyes so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at her partially nude body and lose his resolve.
    Carrie turned her face to him, her turquoise eyes glittering as she stared at the wild-eyed man lying at her side. She slid the rest of her clothes off, then reached over and went to work on Michael’s.
    “I don’t want you to be calm,” she informed him firmly, her displeasure with him coloring her tone. “If we’re doing this, I want you—the real you. Damn it, Michael. My hands are trembling. Finish undressing yourself. I don’t have the patience right now.”
    Carrie pulled her hands away from him, clenching them in fists at her side as she lay back down.
    Because her tone was as now as agitated as his, Michael said nothing in reply. Finally doing as Carrie asked, he removed the rest of his clothes and rolled back to face her.
    Reaching out, Carrie’s hand found and gripped the evidence of just how much he wanted her. Michael had been like this with her before. The man seemed to be all hard lines in bed.
    “You’re worried about hurting me, aren’t you?” she demanded.
    “Yes,” Michael said through gritted teeth, but he wasn’t going to stop Carrie from touching him after waiting so long.
    “Well, stop worrying,” Carrie said, stroking firmly as she listened to him moan. “You won’t hurt me.”
    Because of her sickness, she had been drowning in self-pity, Carrie thought. That’s not how she had survived her life, or her relationships. And that wasn’t how she wanted to be, feeling sorry was not going to be part of the person she’d made of herself.
    Climbing over Michael, Carrie straddled his hips, her hand guiding him inside her. As she sank down completely on him, there was relief and a feeling of entitlement way too delicious not to enjoy completely. She carried his child. That gave her more of a claim to him than anyone else had.
    She stopped, closed her eyes, and hummed in contentment to be impaled on his hard length, waiting for him to do what he wanted to her. Honesty tumbled out, not able to be held back anymore.
    “You feel so good inside me. I love the way we fit together,” she said.
    “Carrie,” Michael said, calling her name to make sure she knew that he knew exactly who she was.
    Moaning, she rocked on him, and Michael watched her reaching for bliss. Yes. God, yes, let me cause your pleasure , he thought, shifting his hips up to push farther into her before he caught himself. Something was very wrong.
    Either that, or it was very, very right.
    “Wait—Carrie. Stop—we forgot to use protection,” Michael choked out.
    The slide of her riding him made him forget his good intentions. He gripped her hips to stop her, but instead ended up using them to help her stay upright.
    “I don’t remember you being so reticent last time, Michael. What are you worried about now? You already got me pregnant,” she teased sarcastically, glaring at him and resisting his efforts to keep her still.
    When she didn’t obey him to stop, Michael gripped Carrie’s hips and held her still for a moment, his need for her becoming feral when she writhed and tried to escape his hands.
    “It was only just yesterday that you didn’t want this at all,” he accused through gritted teeth. “Why are you suddenly willing to give me all of you?”
    “Last time your art seduced me. This