Harlequin Presents January 2015 Box Set 3 of 4(146)

She knew a moment of blind panic, telling herself to fight. To kick his bare legs with her heavy shoes. Rake his face and chest with her nails. Anything to get free—to be safe again.

Yet, somehow, she did none of those things. Because she would also be fighting herself, she realised in some dazed corner of her mind. Because, to her bewilderment and eternal shame, she knew that she shared his hunger, swaying against him, her lips parting under his to allow him the access he demanded.

This can’t—this mustn’t happen. The words might echo in her head, but their warning was soon drowned by the mounting urgency in her body, in the heavy thud of her pulses, the sensation that the blood in her veins was flowing slow and sweet, like honey.

She leaned into him, welcoming the heated tangle of his tongue with hers, shivering at the glide of his hands under her sweater and across the supple line of her back. Admitting that this was what she’d wanted since the first time he’d kissed her.

Deftly, he unhooked her bra, his fingers pushing aside the loosened lace cups to encompass the warm, firm roundness of her small breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples until they stood proud and erect, making her gasp with shocked pleasure against his smile.

He pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it to the floor, sending her bra to follow it, then held her to him closely, tightly, kissing her ever more deeply.

For the first time in her life, she experienced the excitement—the incitement—of a man’s hair-roughened chest grazing her naked breasts, and she melted into him, returning his kisses with untutored ardour.

She was dizzily aware of him releasing the zip on her dark green cord skirt, pushing the fabric over her hips, and down to the ground. He lifted her free of the encumbering pool of fabric, letting her shoes fall at the same time, leaving her in nothing but her tights and briefs. Pulling her hips forward so that her body ground against his, showing in no uncertain terms that he was starkly and formidably aroused.

A demonstration, however, that also served to remind her of her own sexual inexperience and lack of sophistication.

And as if he sensed her sudden uncertainty, his hold relaxed a little. His fingers lifted to stroke the silken fall of her brown hair, then cupped the nape of her neck, bringing her mouth slowly and warmly back to his. Kissing her again, but this time softly and languorously. Endlessly.

And as he did so, his hands moved on her very gently, exploring each delicate curve and angle, his fingertips caressing her throat, her slender shoulder blades, the soft flesh of her inner arms before returning to her breasts and lifting them to the silken warmth of his mouth.

And as his tongue flickered lightly, devastatingly on the engorged rosy peaks, Ginny felt her body clench, fiercely and exquisitely, in response. Telling her that this was no longer enough.

Reminding her too that, through her own choice, the point of no return was long past.

Self-doubt forgotten, she twined her arms round his neck, burying her face in his bare shoulder as he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, tossing aside the rumpled covers, and lowering her to the mattress.

The bed dipped as he joined her, his towel now discarded, bending over her, slowly peeling away her tights and the briefs she wore beneath them, uncovering her completely to the breathtaking urgency of his hands caressing her flat abdomen, exploring the hollows of her pelvis and moving downwards to hover tantalisingly at the soft brown triangle at the joining of her thighs.

She gasped, arching towards him, as she yielded herself to this new intimacy, trembling as he began to trace a slow lingering path over the slick, wet heat of her womanhood, each sensuous movement of his fingers making her quiver with sensation, revealing within her an undreamed of capacity for arousal.

She touched him too, smoothing her fingers in wonderment across his skin, learning the unfamiliar male shape from the broad muscular shoulders down to the narrow hips and firm, flat buttocks. And he captured her hand and kissed it and brought it to his body, clasping it round his jutting hardness, letting her feel the size and strength of him stir and lift under her first tentative caresses.

At the same time his fingers were still exploring her—slowly—exquisitely. Finding her most sensitive place, and hovering there, teasing the tiny bud into swollen, aching excitement.

She gave a tiny breathless moan, looking up into his face, her eyes widening under her long lashes, as she saw his own gaze deepen in purpose and intensity. As she felt him move over her, his hands sliding under her slender flanks and lifting her to him.

His voice was a harsh whisper. ‘Take me, ma douce, ma belle.’

And she obeyed, wordlessly, guiding him to her.

Into her willing warmth...