Road to Seduction (Kimani Romance) by Ann Christopher

strained across his crotch he could barely budge it. Finally it gave way and he slid the shorts past his narrow hips before kicking them off.
    Straightening, he locked that gleaming gaze on her, and all of Isabella’s breath whooshed out of her lungs.
    She’d seen some sexy things in her life. Every movie with Denzel Washington in it, for instance, or the Bulls game for which she’d miraculously scored courtside seats and been close enough to see the beads of sweat trickle off Michael Jordan’s glorious chest. And of course none of her boyfriends had been that hard to look at. She appreciated men. Loved men. Desired men.
    But there were men and then there was Eric Warner. And the sight of him standing there, watching her with gleaming eyes and wearing a pair of black boxer briefs that barely contained hisstraining erection, was enough to send her into either immediate cardiac arrest or spontaneous combustion.
    She took an involuntary step back and held up a hand to hold him off.
    What a fool she’d been to think she was ready.
    She licked her dry lips. “Eric—”
    But Eric was talking, not listening. “I can’t go slow.” With the speed of a lion springing out of a crouch and onto an unsuspecting gazelle, he grabbed her under the arms and yanked her closer. His hands, rough and excruciatingly wonderful, ran over her breasts, palming her nipples, circling and kneading.
    “What are you trying to do, Izzy? Hiding a body like this from me for seventeen years? Did you think I’d let you get away with that? ”
    Did he think she could think right now, much less answer?
    Panting and heading straight into hyperventilation territory— next stop: emergency room —she clung to his hard shoulders and back and tried to survive this onslaught. “Why didn’t you notice me? Why didn’t you ever look?”
    “I’m looking now. What’s this? ” Isabella’s skimpy white panties seemed to be the new focal point of his attention. He stared down at the scrap of lace even as his fingers dug into her hips and his thumbs traced the indentation of her belly button. “Huh?”
    Isabella babbled something incoherent.
    “What’s this?”
    In another dizzying burst of movement, he slipped his fingers under the satin ribbons on each of her hips and pulled. The panties came free and rubbed her swollen sex as he pulled them out from between her thighs. The unbearable friction had her crying out again, but he didn’t seem to notice or care as he waved the wet underwear in her face.
    “Wearing panties like this right under my nose for all these years? What are you trying to do to me?”
    “I—I’m not—”
    But he was already onto her next transgression against him. His long fingers slid down her trembling stomach, scratchedacross the black thatch of hair, and then delved into the hot river that flowed and flowed, all for him. An approving croon rumbled in his throat.
    “Why didn’t you tell me you were this wet?”
    Ripples began deep in her belly and Isabella cried out, swooning a little. When she swayed, he hooked his free arm around her and held tight.
    “I need to know, Izzy.” Resting his forehead against hers, he eased two fingers inside her body and made a purring sound deep in his chest. Isabella teetered at the crest of a cataclysm, waiting for it to crash over her and praying for survival when it did. “Do you always get this wet?”
    “I don’t…I don’t…I don’t know,” she lied.
    Eric swore. He withdrew his magical fingers and rested them just half an inch or so from the spot where she needed them to be, leaving her undulating, moaning and bereft.
    “Are you about to come?”
    She nodded frantically.
    “No, you’re not. You’re going to wait.”
    “I need you,” she whispered.
    Her begging seemed to be beneath his notice, or maybe it was that he was so focused on driving her wild that he was incapable of hearing her. Those fingers crept a little closer to her core and his voice lowered to a