Dream's End by Diana Palmer Page B

silence that burned, with an intensity like nothing she’d ever experienced. His gaze dropped to her parted lips and studied them for such a long time that her heart pounded in her chest.
    â€œI’m going to make you want it this time,” he whispered huskily. “I’m going to make you ache for it.”
    Before she could find the words to answer him, his mouth was brushing softly, lazily, against hers, teasing her lips apart, his whiskey-scented breath mingled with hers as his practiced mastery brought a moan from her throat.
    His teeth nipped gently at her lower lip, his tongue probed the soft, tight curve of her mouth with a slow, stroking motion that made the trembling start in her untutored body.
    She drew back quickly, her eyes wide with surprise as they looked directly into his. She expected to see mockery there, but there was only a vague, patient tenderness.
    â€œIt’s all right,” he said softly. “I’m not going to force you this time.”
    The tears were drying on her cheeks, the unhappiness being replaced by a wild kind of excitement as his lean hands tightened on her waist.
    â€œI don’t know very much,” she murmured uneasily as her hands went to his broad shoulders and rested there.
    â€œForgive me, little one,” he said with a slow smile, “but it shows.”
    She searched his pale, glittering eyes. “Curry, do men really like to kiss like that?” she asked.
    â€œOh, yes,” he murmured, studying the puzzled little face so close to his.
    â€œWhy?” she asked.
    â€œIf you’ll relax and let me do what I want to for the next minute or so, I’ll show you.”
    She sat very still as his dark face came even closer. Her eyes closed, her breath sighed against his firm mouth as it touched and caressed and began to open, pressing her trembling lips apart with a slow, sweet, relentless pressure. She felt the intimacy of it right through her body. It made feelings stir deep inside her that she’d never felt, and as they grew and grew, her sharp nails involuntarily bit into his hard shoulders as she felt his mouth deepen the kiss to an intimacy that brought a choked moan from her throat.
    â€œOh, Curry!” she whispered brokenly against his mouth.
    â€œDon’t talk,” he replied, in a voice she didn’t recognize.
    His lean hands moved under her cotton blouse to caress her bare back, and the touch was like fire. She pressed closer suddenly, her mouth hungry for his, herbody blazing under the lean, sure hands that moved with an urgent pressure from her back to the silken curves of her breasts and the length of her slender body.
    With a suddenness that left her hanging between paradise and reality, he tore away and stood up. He went to the window without a backward glance and drew in a harsh breath while he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.
    â€œI didn’t mean to go that far,” he said finally, in a voice rough with self-contempt.
    Her stunned eyes went over his long back, loving him, needing him, still burning from the fever of his ardor.
    â€œDid I do something wrong?” she asked in a subdued tone.
    â€œNo, honey, I did.” He stared out the window. “Little innocent, don’t ever let a man touch you like that again unless you’re willing to accept the consequences. It’s too arousing.”
    She blushed. It embarrassed her to talk like this, to feel like this. He made her feel ashamed of her own breathless response and as the bitter words sank in, her cheeks flamed with the memory of what she’d let him do. How could she tell him that she could only have felt that kind of abandon with a man she loved? She dropped her shamed eyes to her lap.
    There was a movement as he turned, and she felt the piercing gaze on the back of her neck.
    â€œGod, Eleanor, don’t look like that!” he growled shortly. “You’re out of the nursery!”
    She jumped