Home Fires by Barbara Delinsky Page A

across unending legs. She found herself wondering what color briefs were beneath those slacks, then stifled a gasp.
    His nearness had stripped her of her protective veneer until her words held only the truth. “I’m frightened of so many things—things that I don’t understand. Yes, scandal has to be one. I wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt the foundation or its work.”
    â€œDo you think that I would?” he asked in a murmur.
    Deanna shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    â€œI didn’t let on anything to Warner, did I?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œSee? Don’t you think that merits some degree of
trust?” His voice did wild things to her insides; his closeness did even more wicked things to her senses.
    There was desperation in her gaze when she raised it to his. “I want to trust you, Mark. But I don’t know you.”
    â€œAnd that’s what I’m trying to change,” he vowed, but she barely heard him because his lips were far too near for rational thought. She was mesmerized and stared at them until they moved to breathe her name. “Deanna …” Then they lowered to kiss her and reason began to recede.
    All sense of place and purpose was lost in the silent cry that echoed between them. Mark’s lips parted hers with a gentleness that melted her resistance with a single taste. She was once more yielding to passion’s fantasy and it was as mind-bending as before.
    â€œOh, Mark.” She sighed when he released her lips to draw her from the chair and into his full embrace. His body was tall, sturdy and beckoning. When he leaned against the edge of the table he tucked her between his thighs. Then he kissed her again.
    Deanna couldn’t imagine anything as beautiful as the sense of participation, of giving, she felt at the movement of her lips on his and the slow circling of her arms to his neck. Her body fitted against him perfectly as her hands molded the vibrancy of his sinewed shoulders.
    â€œSee what we’ve got,” he whispered against her neck. “It’s so natural and real.”
    But it wasn’t. Not in Deanna’s mind. She was once more transported by fantasy, willing every bit of worry and confusion into oblivion. He could do this to her—drive everything from mind but the need to satisfy him. And she found her body craving more.
    With a breathy moan she tipped her head to the side. Mark’s lips warmed her neck as she murmured his name. Restlessness possessed her and she moved against him. It seemed that her only true fulfillment was in this man’s
arms. He made her something unique. She’d never felt as needed as when he pressed her closer and poignantly outlined his rising desire.
    When he framed her face once more he concentrated on her lips, consuming their sweet offering with a growing hunger. Her own hunger was no less. The hands that had fallen to his thighs for support now found another purpose. Her fingers splayed there broadly, gliding upward over his tautness. She felt him stiffen further and gloried in her power.
    â€œFeel good?” He nibbled at her lips.
    â€œMmmmmm.” She sighed. “You always feel good. How do you do it?”
    â€œI’m a man. Made for you. Just as you’re made for me.”
    She looked up at him then and her body ached. He must have read her pain, because he let his hands trail from her neck to her shoulders, then down to her breasts. She breathed in deeply and swelled to his touch, but she wanted more, so much more.
    Her smooth silk blouse and the sheer bra beneath were no barrier to his questing fingers, which found her nipples unerringly and caressed them until he felt them peak. She could only moan and close her eyes as she wondered if the delicious torment would ever end. She desperately wanted it to … but only if it led to more intimate caresses.
    â€œSee what you’ve done to me?” she cried softly and he hugged