Hot Ice by Cherry Adair

his own.
    A few more crystalline tears dribbled down her temples, her lower lip trembled, but she lay passively beneath him. Hunt transferred her left wrist to his other hand, then used his thumb to wipe away a tear. "You're a real piece of work, you know that, lady?"
    The tears were still coming, but behind those fake, tear-filled green eyes was a mind going a mile a minute. If he hadn't been looking at her so closely he might have missed the shift from pitiful victim to seductress.
    Her tongue came out briefly to wet her bottom lip. Darker lip liner inside her natural lip line made her lush lips look thinner, but they were the same lying lips he'd felt against his skin in South America.
    "P-Please." Her voice held a plaintive wobble. "Please don't hurt me. I'll do anything you want. Just don't h—"
    Hunt had two choices. Listen to the latest script she was constructing—or create his own diversionary tactic.
    No contest.
    He dropped his head down to crush his mouth over hers.
    Oh, for… An aching warmth spread through Taylor's body as his hardness pressed her into the mattress. It was pretty damn hard to think when she had a ton of rock-solid male on top of her. It was even harder to concentrate when said male kissed her in a blatantly aggressive move that shut off her brain for those critical few seconds she might've used to escape.
    She prided herself on thinking on her feet. The fact that she was usually mentally several steps ahead of anyone trying to catch her had saved her butt a time or three. But she wasn't on her feet at the moment.
    What was with this guy and beds?
    Instead, she lay there being tasted as if she were Huntington St. John's last meal. This was no tentative exploration. No getting to know the shape and feel of lips and tongues. No slow buildup, no leisurely investigation.
    This was deep, hard-core French kissing. Raw. Carnal. Possessive. They hadn't kissed in San Cristóbal, yet the taste and texture of his mouth was shockingly… familiar.
    Helplessly, she clutched his shoulders as lightninglike bolts of pure, white heat zipped from her lips directly down to the juncture of her thighs. The sensation vibrated there like the hum of a tuning fork. She wanted to curl her legs around his hips, but she couldn't move. Her world narrowed until she became pure sensation.
    His lips. His teeth—God—his tongue . His agile, clever, devilishly clever tongue. When he slid it over hers, Taylor swirled her own in response. The flavor of him made her breath come faster, and echoed in her ears with the rapid pounding of her heart. She wanted to touch him, but he controlled both her wrists over her head with one hand.
    Every thought, every bit of sense in her brain, dissipated like mist on a bright, sunny day. Well, hell … Her last intelligent thought before she sank beneath the deep sensual waters of the kiss was escape … later.
    He cupped her cheek, his hand cool on her hot skin as he turned her face a little, slanting that clever mouth down her throat. Taylor sucked in a shaky draft of air as he found the spot behind her ear guaranteed to have her arch beneath him.
    He murmured against the delicate skin there as her hips moved restlessly, and the echoes of his sexy murmurs sent more shock waves through her. He pressed his hips hard against her, and she thought, God, yes. More. Harder .
    He took small bites along the tendons in her neck, then laved her sizzling skin with a slick, damp tongue. Taylor about shot off the bed as every nerve, every tendon, every muscle, every cell in her body did the happy dance.
    She tried again to free her hands. He wasn't holding her that tightly, but she couldn't break free. She was double-jointed. She could squeeze free of anything. Usually. But no matter what she tried, she couldn't get free of him. Damn him. She attempted to rub her aching nipples against the hard plane of his chest. But he was too heavy to allow even that small movement.
    His lips brushed her ear. Taylor's