automatically, he caught her wrists and drew her hands to his chest. His steely eyes held hers while he pressed them there.
“Don’t hide from me,” he said quietly. His eyes fell to her body and sketched its pink and mauve contours with slow, exquisiteappreciation. “You’re more beautiful than a Boticelli nude, Mary Margaret.”
“You’re forgetting Daphne.” She choked out the words, beyond protest. “She has a hold on you.”
He was still staring at her, unblinking. “You might say that.”
“Steve…”
“Don’t talk, Meg,” he replied, his voice deep and soft, almost lazy as his dark head started to bend toward her. “Talking doesn’t accomplish a damned thing.”
“Steven, you mustn’t…!”
“Oh, but I must,” he breathed as his mouth opened just above her taut nipple. “I must…!”
She felt the soft tracing of his tongue just before the faint suction that took her breast right into the dark warmth of his mouth.
Steve heard her gasp, felt her whole body go rigid in his grasp. But he didn’t stop. He nuzzled her gently and increased the warm pressure. A little sound passed her lips and then she began to push toward him, not away from him. He groaned against her as his hands slid up the silky softness of her back and drew her into the aroused curve of his body.
Meg had stopped thinking altogether. The insistent hunger of his mouth made her body throb in the most incredible way. She cradled his dark head against her, leaning back in his embrace. She felt as if she were floating, drifting.
Steve was kneeling, easing her down to the floor, his mouth against her. He pulled her over him, parting her smooth legs sothat they were hip to hip. His mouth moved to her other breast, then to her throat and finally up to her parted lips. He kissed her with slow, aching passion, all the while exploring her body with deft, sure hands. He whispered things she couldn’t even hear for the roar in her ears. And then he shifted her, just a little, and she felt the aroused thrust of him as his body began to rock sensually against hers.
She gasped and stiffened, because even their most intimate time hadn’t been quite this intimate.
He lifted his head. His silver eyes were misty with desire as he searched hers. He moved, deliberately, so that she felt him intimately, and a wave of pleasure rippled up her body. She couldn’t hide the shocked delight in her eyes. He smiled, slowly, and moved again. This time her hands gripped his shoulders and she relaxed, shyly bringing him into even greater intimacy with her.
His lean hand slid up her thigh, tracing its inner curve. She saw his mouth just before it settled on hers again. He touched her as he never had. Waves of pleasure jolted her. She tried to protest, but it was far too late. She began to whimper.
His tongue tangled with hers, thrust deep into her mouth. She felt tears in her eyes as he held her in thrall. Her body arched helplessly toward him. She felt his mouth sliding down to her breasts, possessing her. He stroked her until she was weeping with helpless desire, her voice breaking as she whispered, pleaded, begged.
The husky pleas, combined with the sensual movement of herbody over his, removed him sufficiently from reality so that it was impossible for him to pull back in time. He kissed her. His mouth bit into hers and she felt him move, felt the soft tearing of her briefs, felt the air on her body. She heard the rasp of a zipper, the metallic sound of a belt.
He pulled her up so that she was sitting with her legs on either side of him. She heard his breathing, rough and unsteady at her ear, as his lean hands suddenly gripped her bare thighs deliberately and he lifted her.
“Easy,” he whispered as he brought her to him and slowly pulled her down.
She had a second to wonder about the faint threat of his hold on her, and then his mouth opened on hers and she felt the first insistent thrust of him against the veil of her innocence.
Her
“Don’t hide from me,” he said quietly. His eyes fell to her body and sketched its pink and mauve contours with slow, exquisiteappreciation. “You’re more beautiful than a Boticelli nude, Mary Margaret.”
“You’re forgetting Daphne.” She choked out the words, beyond protest. “She has a hold on you.”
He was still staring at her, unblinking. “You might say that.”
“Steve…”
“Don’t talk, Meg,” he replied, his voice deep and soft, almost lazy as his dark head started to bend toward her. “Talking doesn’t accomplish a damned thing.”
“Steven, you mustn’t…!”
“Oh, but I must,” he breathed as his mouth opened just above her taut nipple. “I must…!”
She felt the soft tracing of his tongue just before the faint suction that took her breast right into the dark warmth of his mouth.
Steve heard her gasp, felt her whole body go rigid in his grasp. But he didn’t stop. He nuzzled her gently and increased the warm pressure. A little sound passed her lips and then she began to push toward him, not away from him. He groaned against her as his hands slid up the silky softness of her back and drew her into the aroused curve of his body.
Meg had stopped thinking altogether. The insistent hunger of his mouth made her body throb in the most incredible way. She cradled his dark head against her, leaning back in his embrace. She felt as if she were floating, drifting.
Steve was kneeling, easing her down to the floor, his mouth against her. He pulled her over him, parting her smooth legs sothat they were hip to hip. His mouth moved to her other breast, then to her throat and finally up to her parted lips. He kissed her with slow, aching passion, all the while exploring her body with deft, sure hands. He whispered things she couldn’t even hear for the roar in her ears. And then he shifted her, just a little, and she felt the aroused thrust of him as his body began to rock sensually against hers.
She gasped and stiffened, because even their most intimate time hadn’t been quite this intimate.
He lifted his head. His silver eyes were misty with desire as he searched hers. He moved, deliberately, so that she felt him intimately, and a wave of pleasure rippled up her body. She couldn’t hide the shocked delight in her eyes. He smiled, slowly, and moved again. This time her hands gripped his shoulders and she relaxed, shyly bringing him into even greater intimacy with her.
His lean hand slid up her thigh, tracing its inner curve. She saw his mouth just before it settled on hers again. He touched her as he never had. Waves of pleasure jolted her. She tried to protest, but it was far too late. She began to whimper.
His tongue tangled with hers, thrust deep into her mouth. She felt tears in her eyes as he held her in thrall. Her body arched helplessly toward him. She felt his mouth sliding down to her breasts, possessing her. He stroked her until she was weeping with helpless desire, her voice breaking as she whispered, pleaded, begged.
The husky pleas, combined with the sensual movement of herbody over his, removed him sufficiently from reality so that it was impossible for him to pull back in time. He kissed her. His mouth bit into hers and she felt him move, felt the soft tearing of her briefs, felt the air on her body. She heard the rasp of a zipper, the metallic sound of a belt.
He pulled her up so that she was sitting with her legs on either side of him. She heard his breathing, rough and unsteady at her ear, as his lean hands suddenly gripped her bare thighs deliberately and he lifted her.
“Easy,” he whispered as he brought her to him and slowly pulled her down.
She had a second to wonder about the faint threat of his hold on her, and then his mouth opened on hers and she felt the first insistent thrust of him against the veil of her innocence.
Her
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