Secrets of a Perfect Night by Stephanie Laurens, Victoria Alexander, Rachel Gibson

body, pressed into the curls at the base of her stomach. Before she could catch her breath, his tongue touched her. She gasped as her hips lifted off the bed. “Adrian!”

    He chuckled as he slid lower, settling between her thighs, already parted to accommodate him. “Don’t be so impatient.”
    Her eyes flew wide as she felt the brush of his breath. Sudden insight flooded her and she wildly grabbed for him—but he’d slid his hands under her bottom; he lifted her hips at that precise moment, and she couldn’t reach. “I’m not—!”
    That was all she managed to get out. Not another coherent word passed her lips as he kissed, licked, then artfully probed. The kisses she might have lived through, the licks she might have survived. But the probing?
    She was sure she was going to die.
    She had never imagined such intimacy, never imagined such glorious delight. Rivers of pure pleasure ran down her veins, pooled in her loins. Heat flared. She tried to distance herself from the approaching conflagration, but he sensed it; he cut her no slack, gave her no chance to pull away. Her hips locked in the vise of his hands, he held her steady and ruthlessly stoked the flames. Until they caught her, consumed her.
    He let them rage—let her gasp, let her sob, let her writhe. Then, with a deliberateness she sensed even through the conflagration, he filled her and shattered her senses.
    She cried his name as her consciousness fragmented, as the sharp peak of delight turned incandescent, too excruciating to bear. She was floating in a sea of warm pleasure as he laid her down.
    Consciousness drifted back to her; her logical mindwas trying to warn her, trying to make her wake up and react. His weight had left her—he’d left the bed. Had he left the room? Could she escape?
    Escape was the last thing her body wished to do. She lay still, feeling the sheet cool beneath her. Her skin was hot, her flesh flushed, heated, yet she felt empty—her body had melted with delight, but still she wanted more. She wanted him. Inside her. Filling her. The realization that her chemise had disappeared slowly crystallized; something inside her relaxed. He hadn’t left.
    On the thought, he returned. She cracked open her heavy lids. He’d moved the candle to the bedside table. In its light, he looked nothing short of magnificent as, with care, he lowered his naked body to hers. He settled his hips between her thighs, guided himself to her entrance, then glanced at her face. He caught a glimpse of her eyes, and murmured, “Just lie still.”
    She lay boneless beneath him as he pressed into her. Despite the fact he’d filled her only seven nights before, the fit was still tight. So tight. But there was no pain, just that relentless pressure, stretching her, slowly filling her.
    With a small gasp, she tilted her hips; he pressed deeper, then deeper still. She knew he was large, but he felt even larger than before. He’d taught her the very first time how to relax and take him in; she concentrated on releasing the muscles that instinctively clenched against his invasion, and with one last thrust, he was there, embedded within her.
    The tension in his body eased a fraction. With one hand he brushed her hair from her face, then cuppedher jaw. His lips touched her forehead. “Are you all right?”
    “Hmm.” She opened her eyes. His features were taut with passion and leashed desire. She reached up and pulled his head down, bringing his lips to hers. “Yes,” she breathed, then kissed him.
    He let her press her demands, then he settled more fully upon her, wrested back control of the kiss, and reminded her of what he did so well. For one instant, the hot pleasure of his kiss held her enthralled, then her awareness abruptly shifted, expanded. Her senses leapt. His hard body pressed hers into the soft bed, his weight pinning her, his hardness impaling her. Muscles like heated steel surrounded her; she felt soft, vulnerable—female to his male. He