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His Defiant Desert Queen(57)

By:Jane Porter


                His gaze swept over her, admiring the fullness of her breasts, her flat belly, and the bright silky fabric just barely covering her there, between her thighs.

                His body tightened with arousal.

                “If I start kissing you,” he answered, his voice so deep it was almost a growl, “you wouldn’t want me to stop.”

                “You’re so conceited,” she said, nose in the air, but squirming at the same time.

                “I’m honest.”

                Her cheeks darkened to a dusty pink. “To me, it sounds like a boast. You talk a lot but do very little.”

                He loved that he could arouse her so easily. He could feel her humming now, wanting, needing. “You love to challenge me,” he drawled.

                “I was just saying—”

                He snapped his fingers, interrupting her, and then pointed to his chair. “Come here.”

                Her green eyes darkened, widened. She swallowed hard.

                “Come, big talker,” he said. “Let’s see how brave you really are.”

                And just like that, her courage failed. She ducked her head, bit her lip, uncertain and shy.

                He hid his smile. He’d expected as much.

                She was a tease. One of those good girls who wanted to be bad.

                He stood up, crossed to her chair, and tugged her to her feet. Her green eyes flashed again, worry, excitement, uncertainty.

                He held her by the wrist, led her into the red and ivory pavilion behind them, and drew the silk curtains closed, hiding them.

                “Sit,” he ordered.

                She sat down on one of the low couches that wrapped the wall.

                He sat down next to her.

                “What are we doing?” she whispered.

                “Whatever we feel like doing,” he answered, his head dipping, dropping low, his mouth so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.

                Jemma held her breath, waiting for the kiss. She felt as if she’d been waiting forever for this moment. But he was taking his time, his lips lightly brushing across her cheek toward her ear.

                She turned her head toward him, wanting his mouth on her mouth but his lips were exploring the high curve of her cheekbone, his lips a caress across her sensitive skin. Hot darts of pleasure shot through her. His mouth felt good on her. He smelled good, too. She wanted more of him, not less.

                Jemma turned her mouth to his again, inhaling his scent, relishing the rich spicy fragrance of his skin. He’d shaved earlier, this morning, and his jaw was smooth and firm, his mouth full and so very sensual.

                Promising pleasure.

                Unable to resist, Jemma put her lips to his, and waited. Waited to see what he would do. Waited to see what would happen next.

                If he intended to seduce her, she would let him do the work. She was in the mood to be seduced, too. Ready for pleasure, sensation, satisfaction. Exquisite satisfaction.

                His hand moved to her chin, fingers trailing across her jaw in a leisurely exploration, and yet every little brush of his fingers made her insides tighten and squirm and her breasts, already aching, feel excruciatingly sensitive.