Seduction by Brenda Joyce Page B

Charles. She was in love.
    Julianne found his hard, muscular back, and helplessly, she began exploring the rigid tendons there, as he softened his kiss, finally pausing to breathe hard against her cheek.
    Every inch of him was aroused.
    “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said harshly. “Not now—or ever.”
    “You won’t hurt me,” she said, grasping his shoulders. His words somehow seemed odd, but it was so hard to think coherently.
    His green gaze was burning. “I want you, Julianne. God, I have wanted you—needed you—from the start.”
    He embraced her again, his mouth on hers. She felt herself become pliant, yielding to him, pressing against him, kissing him back. She felt so faint with need now. He tore his mouth from hers, but only to press his mouth against her throat and then into the vee of her nightgown. She moaned.
    He began pulling up her nightgown. Julianne went still as her knees and thighs were bared. “You are beautiful,” he whispered, pulling it up and over her head, then tossing it aside. And before she could think about the fact that she was unclothed, with firelight washing over her, he cupped her breasts and kissed her nipples, then slid his hand low over her belly. She gasped with pleasure.
    And then her heart began a wild pounding, as did every pulse point in her body.
    She could not move. She did not want to. His tongue moved over her nipple. His hands moved between her thighs. He began to stroke her, deftly. Julianne cried out, stunned by the building crescendo of pleasure.
    He moved his hand there, his fingers featherlike now. Julianne began to tremble violently. She wanted to tell him that she could not stand the pleasure he was bringing her—it was pleasure and agony, at once.
    And he suddenly lifted her up and seated her on his hips, wrapping her legs around him. Julianne somehow opened her eyes in real surprise, her back against the door as he surged up into her.
    The pressure was blinding, the pleasure shocking, the explosion instantaneous.
    She clung. She clawed. She wept. And vaguely, she heard him moaning her name.
    “Julianne.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    O UTSIDE C HARLES ’ S BEDROOM , Julianne hesitated, holding a breakfast tray. Her heart was racing and her knees felt weak. She was ridiculously nervous about seeing him.
    Charles had made love to her last night.
    Her heart leapt in her chest. She recalled his kisses, his touch, how he felt beneath her hands, and she felt faint all over again. There was a delirious joy in her heart and a maddening urgency in her body. They were lovers now.
    And she had no regrets.
    She was deeply, irrevocably, in love.
    Balancing the tray, she knocked gently on the door. “Charles?”
    “Julianne?” he said, sounding hoarse and sleepy. As she came in, he slowly smiled at her, pulling the covers up past his naval. “Apparently I have overslept.”
    “Apparently,” she breathed, stealing a glance at his bare chest. She was shocked that she would be so aroused by his mere presence again. She wondered if she would ever be able to look at him, without thinking terribly sinful thoughts—without wanting to be in his arms. She set the tray down on the table, images of his lovemaking last night flooding her mind. “I will leave you to give you some time to properly attire.”
    “Prude,” he said softly.
    She jumped.
    “Are you afraid to look at me?”
    Flushing, she slowly met his gaze. Humor filled it. “Of course not.” Some of her tension faded.
    “Good. I prefer to have your company,” he said, staring. “There is no reason to feel embarrassed, Julianne.”
    “I am not embarrassed.”
    He glanced at the open door.
    She always left the door open when they were in his chamber together. It would be inappropriate to do otherwise. “I think it better to go on as usual.” She kept her voice low.
    He smiled as he got up, and she averted her eyes from his powerful body. Her mind went oddly blank. There were only those stunning, passionate