Runaway by Heather Graham Page A

had begun in the liquid heat of the tub now came to the soft warmth of the bed. His lips touched hers again. Softly, briefly. Then that touch was gone. His mouth closed gently upon the aroused peak of her nipple, his tongue laving the rouge bud again and again. A scorching swept through her, shooting like a falling star to burst in shattering fragments of light throughout her. He continued to arouse and caress her breast with the hunger of his lips while his hand swept down the length of her. Stroked her hip, her thigh. A slow, feather soft touch. She longed to press his hand away.
    And she longed to feel it closer.…
    Her fingers dug into his shoulders; she closed her eyes, trying again to fight the feeling of heat, for it was overwhelming. Then she saw his eyes above hers, so deeply black again. There was no laughter in them now, rather something dark and intense. He studied her briefly, then caught her lips once again. Kissed and kissed her, tasting, exploring with his lips.…
    And with his demanding caress. The fingers that had feathered so softly over her thighs were feather light no more. His hand kneaded over the soft mound of golden hair at the juncture of her thighs. She felt his kiss still, but her breath caught and she rippled with tension. Yes, farther, parting, stroking, delving. Gently parting petals of flesh and stroking once again.…
    She dug her nails heedlessly into his flesh, while awave, as of molten honey, came cascading down upon her. She tried to tighten against him, somewhat amazed, somewhat afraid. His lips broke from hers at last. Breathless, trembling, she met his gaze, tensing again. “No,” he commanded very gently. Her lashes fluttered shut against his ebony stare once again, and still she felt his gaze sweeping her. “Worth a million!” he repeated in a soft, husky whisper, sending the searing honey to skip down her spine and into her limbs once again. What now?
    Oh, God …
    His lips fell in a series of slow, leisurely kisses. Then she felt the pressure on her thighs. Felt them parted, felt his weight. Felt the searing beat of his sex so briefly against her and then …
    Now, now … no.
    His weight suddenly brought lower, his body a bulwark parting her. She nearly shrieked aloud with the first jagged streak of sun that seemed to pervade her as he kissed her anew. This touch parting, delving, stroking, just as his fingers had done before. Her fingers fell upon his shoulders, she swallowed upon her cry, twisting her head into the pillow. His large bronze hands enclasped her hips, holding her steady to his will. She writhed, desperate for a moment to escape anything so sweetly intimate, but writhing only caused a greater sensation and she went still, realizing that she could not free herself from this lover’s caress.
    Nor did anything cause the sensations to cease.…
    Wave after liquid wave of searing sweetness began to cascade through her, and she could no longer remain still.
    Nor did she twist in protest, for somewhere in his seductive assault he had touched upon a magic she had never known existed. She moved because she had tomove. Because his fiery caress demanded that she undulate beneath it. He paused, just briefly. She cried out, embarrassed, dismayed, and still yearning. Then his touch came again. The tip of his tongue. So light, she could scarce feel it. Then deeper, deeper …
    “No!” the anguished cry escaped her lips. He paid no heed. She had not meant that he should.
    She flew, she soared, she reached and reached, and did not know for what she was reaching. Her head began to toss, and a whimpering sound filled the air, and she realized dimly that she was the one emitting the cries.…
    A blistering heat seemed to pervade her, bursting and spilling from that tender bud of desire he had so assuredly awakened, streaking out like the rays of the sun to fill her torso and limbs with shimmering golden warmth. It was staggering, so achingly sweet, sweeping away thought and