Overnight Sensation by Karen Foley

felt her fingers tighten fractionally, and then she looked at him from beneath her lashes.

    “Then I don’t want to go slow, either.”

    The words emerged in a rush, and Garrett needed a few seconds to process what she’d said, and what it meant.

    She didn’t want to go slow.

    “Sweetheart—”

    “Shh.” Whatever he’d been about to say, she halted him with her fingers against his lips. “Don’t talk. Just show me—show me what it was like to be her…with you.”

    Her eyes searched his, and seeing the need in those shimmering espresso depths undid him. He groaned and slid his hands along her jaw, cradling her face in his palms and stroking the sensitive skin with the pads of his thumbs. But despite the fact that every male hormone in his body raged for him to take her, a part of him needed to make her understand his desire for her was real and had nothing to do with Helena Vanderveer. To tell Ivy fictitious stories about what had supposedly transpired between him and the missionary was one thing. To take advantage of Ivy like this was another thing altogether.

    “Wait, Ivy,” he rasped, covering her fingers with his and pulling them away from his lips. “There’s something important I have to tell you—”

    “I don’t want to know.” She squeezed her thighs around his and tunneled her hands into his hair, drawing his face down for another soul-wrenching kiss. “I just want to feel,” she breathed against his lips. “I want to feel what Helena felt…see what she saw…know what she knew…”

    As if to make her meaning clear, she gave him a deep, openmouthed kiss, while at the same time wrapping her legs around his hips and pressing against him in an unmistakable invitation.

    It was his undoing.

    All thoughts of spilling his guts vanished, along with any vestiges of self-control. He’d wanted this for too long. If Ivy knew the truth—that there had been no romance with Helena—she’d be gone quicker than he could say hasta la vista, baby.

    With a groan of surrender, Garrett slid his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her off the table. She made a soft sound of surprise, but didn’t protest. She just deepened the kiss and hung on.

    Gripping her luscious bottom, her bare thighs clenched around his waist, Garrett turned and, in three easy strides, crossed to the bed and shoved the mosquito netting aside, then lowered himself onto the pillows. The weight of Ivy’s body on his was exquisite torture, but with her now straddling his hips, he had free access to her delectable backside.

    He pushed his hands beneath the bunched-up skirt of her dress and stroked his palms along the outside of her thighs, reveling in the feel of her bare skin. She squirmed on top of him, rubbing herself against the hard ridge of his arousal. He wanted badly to touch her, to slide the insubstantial barrier of her panties aside and explore her thoroughly.

    Instead, he reached up and pulled her ponytail free of the elastic band that held it. Her hair tumbled forward around her face in a fragrant mass of springy curls. He thrust his fingers into the silken corkscrews and caught her lower lip between his teeth, alternately nipping and then soothing the tender flesh with his tongue.

    She made a soft sound of pleasure, and then her hands fisted in the material of his T-shirt, pushing it up until she could slide her palms beneath the hem. His stomach muscles contracted beneath her fingers. She pushed higher, smoothing her hands over his skin and trailing her fingertips across his nipples, pausing there to explore the hard nubs. She dragged her lips from his and, as he sucked wind, skated her mouth along his jaw until she caught his earlobe between her teeth.

    Heat jackknifed through him, spiraled through his midsection. When her hands slid lower and lingered over the button of his jeans, he stopped breathing. For the space of a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

    Sensing her hesitation, Garrett reached down and