Not Even for Love(8)

But the sheer encompassing quality of his embrace frightened Jordan. The totality of her loss of will alarmed her. If she surrendered, it would be an absolute capitulation, and she couldn’t chance that. Her hands went to his shoulders and pushed against them halfheartedly, but he accepted the discouragement and stepped away from her.

“Good night,” he murmured as his eyes bore into hers.

“Good night,” she answered, picking up a candle and scurrying toward the bedroom. She collapsed against the closed door and drew several restorative breaths. When she felt more normal and her pulse was beating at a comfortable tempo again, she went into the bathroom.

She creamed her face, brushed her teeth, and took down her hair. All of these routine things she did automatically, her mind in a turmoil, her thoughts traitorous to the decision she had made moments before. What were his lips capable of when his passion was unleashed? The hands that had caressed her shoulders only hinted at their talent to heighten the senses.

Foolishness! she chided herself as she took the candle into her bedroom. He was only being polite. It was a kiss of gratitude. Friendship. Comrades abroad. Nothing more.

She set the candle on the bedside table and turned down the quilted spread and colorful sheets. Her fingers were working with the snap of her slacks when the door behind her swung open on silent hinges.

Only the light from one candle on the coffee table was behind him, but she could see that he wore only a pair of pajama bottoms, which rode low on his hips. His frame completely filled the doorway, his arms spread wide, his hands bracing him on each side of the jamb.

She stared at him with a mixture of fear and excitement. One hand went to her throat to capture her heart, which had leaped there. The other settled over her stomach, trying vainly to still the disquieting flutter. She felt helpless, caught up in something from which there was no escape. Escape? Did she want to escape?

“Are you going to scream?” he asked quietly. He began to move toward her.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, shaking her head in desperation.

He stood only a few feet from her now. The magnificent proportions of his physique were revealed to her clearly and she admitted that she had never seen a man who stirred her feminine instincts as did this man.

“I don’t think so,” she whispered. Then his hands came up to cup her face and tilt it back for his kiss. Her eyes were already closing as she said, “No, I’m not going to scream.”

This time there was no hesitancy. His lips claimed hers in a fierce kiss. Then his mouth opened and left no room for argument on that claim. He possessed her mouth thoroughly, and without resistance she parted her lips and honored his ownership.

His tongue rubbed sensuously against hers and then went deeper to explore the mysteries of her mouth. He solved each one in turn. His arms wrapped around her. Smoothing over her back, his hands settled on her waist and drew her closer until their bodies melded together. Teasingly, his mouth moved over hers, elusively avoiding her lips, which pursued it. When a small, frustrated moan escaped her, he rewarded her tenacity by taking her mouth under his once again.

Her arms came up and locked behind his neck. Without separating, they fell to the bed and lay on the pillows, which welcomed them as if they belonged.

He raised his head and gazed down at her with fevered eyes. He spoke rapidly, as though he had been saving up things to say, and now that the opportunity had presented itself, he didn’t want to lose it. “Your hair is beautiful. So dark and shiny.” His fingers sifted through the silky strands. “Your complexion doesn’t need makeup. Your eyes… God, you’re gorgeous, Jordan. Kiss me again. Please.”

She needed no coaxing. Her hands tangled in the coarse auburn hair and pulled his face down to hers. Their mouths met with equal need, each hot and moist and seeking appeasement for a newborn thirst that seemed unquenchable.

He forsook the wellspring of her mouth to plant kisses along her cheek and ear. He tasted the lobe with a velvet-rough tongue. Jordan’s fingertips explored the hard, bunched muscles of his shoulders as capricious lips skipped along her neck. With precision, his hand moved between their bodies and covered her breast. An inquisitive thumb stroked across the crest, which impertinently demanded attention.

“Reeves,” she groaned, and arched upward against him. Suddenly she realized what she was doing. Not until an hour ago had she ever seen this man. Now she was in bed with him, allowing him—no, begging him—to kiss her and caress her with matchless intimacy. This was not trivial kissing. This was making love. With a stranger! Was she mad? She must stop this. Now.