Masque of Betrayal by Andrea Kane Page B

kitchen.
    A moment later the explanation strolled through the sitting-room door.
    “Good morning, sweet,” Dane greeted Jacqui cheerfully, glancing behind him to see Whiskey’s hasty retreat.
    “Hello, Dane.” Jacqui accepted the now-familiar flutter in her stomach that his presence elicited.
    He reached out and drew her to him. “I didn’t care for that greeting at all.” He took her arms, wrapping them about his neck. “Now … again.”
    Jacqui felt herself smile. “Hello, Dane.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his chin.
    “Hello, Jacqueline,” he said in a husky voice. Before she could move, he brought her against him and covered her mouth with his own.
    “Dane …” she protested, “Greta …”
    “… is occupied with your vicious cat,” he answered against her lips. “Kiss me.”
    “But …”
    “Kiss me.” He stole her final protest away with a warm sweep of his tongue, feeling that incomparable instant when Jacqui let herself go and became his. He drank in her lush softness, feeling his body blaze instantly out of control. “Yes, love, like that,” he murmured, taking her mouth in a primal rhythm that made them both tremble. Months before, this would have been enough. To hold her, to kiss her, to tease her with what was to be … it had sustained him these endless weeks. But no longer. Dane wanted her … needed her, with an urgency that could no longer be squelched. “Jacqueline. …” He breathed her name, unconsciously lifting her to meet the instinctive motion of his hips.
    Jacqui made a soft sound deep in her throat and tore her mouth from his. “Dane …” There was no fear in her voice, only reluctance, matched by the anxious expression on her beautiful, flushed face. “We can’t …”
    “I have to be inside you.” He stared down into her haunting eyes, unable to retain his hold on sanity.
    Jacqui felt his words unfurl within her like scalding, ribbons of fire. “Not now. Not here. Not yet.” She shook her head in total bewilderment. “Dane, please. I can’t think when you’re holding me.”
    “Perhaps I don’t want you to think.”
    “One of us has to.”
    Dane chuckled, despite the relentless throbbing of his body. “And that someone, of course, has to be you. My ever-thinking Jacqueline.” His hands slid to her hips. “Just tell me that you want me,” he commanded.
    Jacqui licked her lips. “I believe that’s obvious.”
    “Say it.” Fiercely, he crushed her lower body to his.
    “I want you.”
    “Now tell me when.”
    “I can’t, Dane. I don’t know.” She could actually feel him pulsing against her, feel the answering response within herself. Weakness pervaded her limbs, and with the weakness came fear. “Put me down.”
    Dane heard the vehemence of her words, but he also recognized the strangled tone characterizing her order. For a long moment he did nothing, still holding her to him, staring deeply into her wide, midnight eyes. He read her internal struggle … but not its cause. She was unafraid of their impending physical union … of that he was certain. Nor did she give a damn for public opinion concerning her conduct. Then what?
    He watched Jacqui catch her lower lip between her teeth and chew on it nervously … a typically feminine gesture. The realization hit him that, unconventional or not, Jacqueline was indeed a woman, with not only a woman’s needs but with her sensibilities as well. Perhaps what she required was the very thing Dane intended to offer her. A commitment.
    Slowly, he lowered her feet to the floor, keeping her in a loose embrace. “We have to talk.”
    Jacqui stepped back. “Talk? Is that what we were just doing?”
    “No. But it is what we are going to do now.”
    She studied Dane quietly. “All right.” Moving out of his arms, she sank down onto the settee, gesturing for him to do the same.
    “Jacqueline, you’re nineteen years old,” Dane began, sitting beside her.
    “Actually, I’ll be twenty