shoulders, the long muscular curve of has naked back, her tongue moving against his with the same wild abandon. Her skin felt on fire, clamouring for his caresses, her breasts aching to be touched.
The heated pressure of his body against hers told her that he was deeply and passionately aroused, but in spite of her inexperience, she was neither afraid nor embarrassed. She wanted to know and be known totally—completely, she thought feverishly, as her hands slid down his body, seeking and welcoming.
For a moment he tensed at her first, shy overtures, then with a little groan of encouragement he lowered his mouth to her breasts, tugging the wetly clinging fabric of her bra aside with his teeth before encircling one taut pink nipple with his lips.
The pleasure of it was shocking, scorching along her veins. The sun dazzled against her languidly closed eyelids, and the delight he was teaching her dazzled her senses. Her breath escaped between her parted lips on a little sigh, as his hand stroked the curve of her hip, then moved downwards, slowly, searchingly, intimately. His fingers on her body were like the whisper of silk, but, at the same time, wickedly, devastatingly sure.
Every sense, every nerve she possessed seemed to be turning inwards, focusing on some sweet central core of physical hunger. It was difficult to breathe, to think of anything but this savage sweetness that his hands and mouth were creating. The current had her, she thought dizzily, was carrying her away for ever…
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. With a violent exclamation Rourke rolled away from her and lay prone, his head turned from her, pillowed on his folded arms.
For a moment Leigh lay still, her quivering body in turmoil, then slowly she lifted herself on one elbow and looked at him. She felt bewildered, totally bereft, unable to find an explanation for this uncompromising rejection.
He had once taunted her about her inexperience, she remembered painfully. Had he recalled this now, and drawn back because of it? Or had she, through ignorance, given him the impression that she was in some way unwilling? Didn't he realise—couldn't he tell how desperately she wanted him? And he wanted her—she was sure of it.
She put out a tentative hand and touched his bare shoulder. 'Rourke?'
He moved convulsively, shaking her hand away. 'What is it?'
'I don't understand.'
He sat up, pushing back his damp hair with a kind of weary impatience. 'What is there to understand?' he asked harshly. 'For a while we both went a little mad, that's all. Now it's over.'
'Just like that?' The enormity of it made her voice falter. How could he so easily dismiss that passionate, yearning intimacy they had shared, however briefly? His hunger had been as deep as hers, she would swear to it. 'Don't I have some say…?'
'There is nothing more to be said,' he interrupted flatly. 'You are, after all, engaged, and the last thing I need is this kind of involvement.' He got to his feet and went over to the mule, peacefully grazing a few yards away, to retrieve his clothing. 'Now, get dressed, and well be on our way.'
In spite of the heat, Leigh was shivering violently, her arms wrapped protectively round her body. Her voice sounded strange and husky in her ears as she said, 'I—I haven't got my clothes. I was carrying them when I slipped. I don't know what's happened to them.'
There was a long and terrible silence. Rourke lifted clenched fists and looked up at the sky. '
Madre de Dios
!' he spat. 'What else can happen?'
He drew a deep, furious breath, then began rummaging through the packs. One by one, a clean khaki shirt, a leather belt, and one of Maria's blankets landed beside Leigh on the grass. 'Have the goodness to manufacture yourself some kind of covering.' His tone was ominous.
The shirt was enough on its own, she thought, when she had scrambled into it. Cinched in at the waist by the belt, it still reached three-quarters of the way down her slender
The heated pressure of his body against hers told her that he was deeply and passionately aroused, but in spite of her inexperience, she was neither afraid nor embarrassed. She wanted to know and be known totally—completely, she thought feverishly, as her hands slid down his body, seeking and welcoming.
For a moment he tensed at her first, shy overtures, then with a little groan of encouragement he lowered his mouth to her breasts, tugging the wetly clinging fabric of her bra aside with his teeth before encircling one taut pink nipple with his lips.
The pleasure of it was shocking, scorching along her veins. The sun dazzled against her languidly closed eyelids, and the delight he was teaching her dazzled her senses. Her breath escaped between her parted lips on a little sigh, as his hand stroked the curve of her hip, then moved downwards, slowly, searchingly, intimately. His fingers on her body were like the whisper of silk, but, at the same time, wickedly, devastatingly sure.
Every sense, every nerve she possessed seemed to be turning inwards, focusing on some sweet central core of physical hunger. It was difficult to breathe, to think of anything but this savage sweetness that his hands and mouth were creating. The current had her, she thought dizzily, was carrying her away for ever…
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. With a violent exclamation Rourke rolled away from her and lay prone, his head turned from her, pillowed on his folded arms.
For a moment Leigh lay still, her quivering body in turmoil, then slowly she lifted herself on one elbow and looked at him. She felt bewildered, totally bereft, unable to find an explanation for this uncompromising rejection.
He had once taunted her about her inexperience, she remembered painfully. Had he recalled this now, and drawn back because of it? Or had she, through ignorance, given him the impression that she was in some way unwilling? Didn't he realise—couldn't he tell how desperately she wanted him? And he wanted her—she was sure of it.
She put out a tentative hand and touched his bare shoulder. 'Rourke?'
He moved convulsively, shaking her hand away. 'What is it?'
'I don't understand.'
He sat up, pushing back his damp hair with a kind of weary impatience. 'What is there to understand?' he asked harshly. 'For a while we both went a little mad, that's all. Now it's over.'
'Just like that?' The enormity of it made her voice falter. How could he so easily dismiss that passionate, yearning intimacy they had shared, however briefly? His hunger had been as deep as hers, she would swear to it. 'Don't I have some say…?'
'There is nothing more to be said,' he interrupted flatly. 'You are, after all, engaged, and the last thing I need is this kind of involvement.' He got to his feet and went over to the mule, peacefully grazing a few yards away, to retrieve his clothing. 'Now, get dressed, and well be on our way.'
In spite of the heat, Leigh was shivering violently, her arms wrapped protectively round her body. Her voice sounded strange and husky in her ears as she said, 'I—I haven't got my clothes. I was carrying them when I slipped. I don't know what's happened to them.'
There was a long and terrible silence. Rourke lifted clenched fists and looked up at the sky. '
Madre de Dios
!' he spat. 'What else can happen?'
He drew a deep, furious breath, then began rummaging through the packs. One by one, a clean khaki shirt, a leather belt, and one of Maria's blankets landed beside Leigh on the grass. 'Have the goodness to manufacture yourself some kind of covering.' His tone was ominous.
The shirt was enough on its own, she thought, when she had scrambled into it. Cinched in at the waist by the belt, it still reached three-quarters of the way down her slender
Similar Books
