MacKenzie's Lady by Dallas Schulze Page B

come out, touching the delicate thrust of her chin, trailing onto her throat. His fingers barely skimmed her breasts, feeling the flutter in her breathing as he brushed across the taut peaks. He let his thumb settle against her navel, his hand fanning out across her stomach.
    "Holly."
    Her name was ragged, half question, half plea. Her eyes opened slowly to meet the burning warmth of his gaze. With an effort his mouth twisted in a smile. "How do you expect me to keep my head when you wear something like this?" His hand brushed lightly across the tiny panties and lacy garter belt, trailing down to trace the line of one garter across her thigh to the top of her stocking.
    For a moment the mists parted and Holly saw clearly that this was her moment to choose. If she wanted him to stop, now was the time to tell him. Her eyes searched his face, seeing hunger and the iron control that held it in check. But she also saw need, a need that was not just physical.
    Mac moved away as she sat up slowly, holding his breath as her breast brushed against his arm, braced on the carpet beside them. She bent one leg in a graceful, feminine move and reached beneath it to unhook one lacy garter. Mac hardly dared to breathe as she unhooked the other garter and rolled the stocking down her slim leg in a gesture so sensual and alluring that his entire body tightened in response. The nylon was tossed carelessly toward the sofa.
    "It's much easier if someone else does it." The words were a throaty invitation. His eyes swept to her face for an instant, reading all the desire he had hardly dared to dream of, with just a flickering hint of uncertainty. This was not a woman who was accustomed to offering such blatantly sensual invitations. That Holly wanted him enough to do so added to his already inflamed senses.
    His fingers trembled slightly as he reached down and unhooked the delicate fabric, rolling the other stocking down the smooth length of her leg and tossing it toward its mate.
    Her fingers shook against his chest as she maneuvered first one button of his shirt and then another through buttonholes that seemed too small. He sat patiently until the last button surrendered and she was able to push the shirt off his shoulders. Her palms ran over his chest, her fingers curling into the thick mat of hair that covered its muscular strength. She brushed across a masculine nipple, lingering in response to his indrawn breath, her head lifting until she could see his face.
    Mac's patience melted and vanished beneath her delicate touch. With a groan he swept her back down onto the carpet, his broad chest crushing her breasts with controlled power. His mouth took hers with avid hunger.
    Mac's fingers moved rapidly, ridding himself of his jeans and stripping the last tantalizing bits of fabric from her willing body. Holly's hands were not still. She explored the rigid length of his spine, tracing each ripplii^j muscle that spanned his back.
    She gasped as he kicked his jeans away and his naked body came against hers. His hard arousal was a heated brand along her hip, a promise. His mouth left hers and brushed past her throat to find the silken weight of her breasts. Her nails dug into his shoulders as his lips closed around one swollen nipple and began a deep tugging motion that sank to her very core. Her hips arched in unconscious echo of that movement.
    His hand slid across her stomach, his fingers finding the silky dark curls that sheltered her femininity. His body jerked in response to the waiting warmth he found there. Mac's forehead felt feverish as he rested it between her breasts, fighting for some semblance of control.
    But if Mac was struggling to stem his passion, Holly was too far gone even to remember the meaning of the word "control." Her body was on fire. She felt as if she lay in the very midst of a bed of smoldering coals and it would take only the lightest of touches to make her burst into flame. The fire that burned beside them was nothing