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His One-Night Mistress(4)

By:Sandra Field


He muttered between kisses that imprinted her cheeks, her chin, her  throat, "We should go slow … it's been a long time for you and I want to  give you-"

Her answer was to pull at his shirt, loosening it from his trousers.  "Don't fight what's between us," she begged. "I want you now, Seth.  Now."

Swiftly he threw his cloak to the floor and hauled his shirt over his  head. Lia's breath caught in her throat. "You're so beautiful," she  choked, and briefly laid her cheek against his chest. His heart was  pounding. His skin smelled cleanly of soap and of the essence of this  man who was both a stranger and yet utterly known to her.

He said with that thread of laughter already so familiar to her, "How do  I get you out of your costume? You could be sewn into it for all I  know."

She turned deliberately in his arms. "There's a zipper down the back," she said, and bowed her head.

His mouth traced the softness of her nape, savoring every inch, sending  shudders of longing through her frame. Then he caught the zipper and  with a single tug bared the long line of her spine. She turned again,  her eyes glittering, eased her arms from the tight sleeves and let her  costume fall to her waist.                       
       
           



       

"God, you're lovely," he breathed, his heated gaze causing her nipples  to harden involuntarily. He cupped her breasts, stroking the ivory  curves of flesh, then dropped his head to suckle her.

She cried out in instinctive response, her body arching toward him, her  eyes closed in ecstasy; and all the while his hands, those wonderfully  sensitive hands, were tracing the taut curve of her belly and the  delicate arc of her ribs. Her breathing quickened, the heat between her  thighs mounting to an unbearable pitch. As though he knew, he touched  her there, just once, and she rocketed into a climax that made her cry  out his name in shocked abandon.

Boneless, she collapsed against him. "I never-that didn't … "

"There's more," he said fiercely and swept her into his arms, carrying  her the length of the room into a vast bedroom. He laid her on her back  on the king-size bed, covering her with his body, kissing her breasts,  her shoulders, her mouth, giving her no mercy where none was needed.  Then he reached down and ripped her suit from her hips.

After kicking off her shoes, Lia tugged the turquoise fabric from her  legs and feet, only wanting to be naked for him; within her, something  never touched before rose and broke at the wonder in his face as he took  in the length of her slender body. She said unsteadily, "It's only me."

"You're so beautiful. So generous and brave."

The look on his face made her want to cry. This was about lust, she  thought frantically. Only lust. "Seth," she said forcefully, "you've got  too many clothes on."

His green eyes blazed at her. "Take your mask off," he said. "Please."

She bit her lip, feeling herself weaken at this passionate pleading from  a man, she'd be willing to bet, who rarely begged for anything. "I've  shown you too much already," she cried. "We have one night, Seth, just  one night. But one night can be a lifetime, you understand that as well  as I do."

She couldn't tell him who she was. Because Seth Talbot, she knew this in her bones, had the power to change her life.

From the time she was five, when her first violin had been put in her  arms, she'd worked single-mindedly toward one goal: to be one of the  best in the world. She wasn't there yet. With the humility of the true  artist, she knew she had a long way to go. She'd also discovered in the  last hour or so that a man called Seth Talbot could totally derail her.  Distract her from her ambitions, from all she'd studied and practiced  and longed for.

She couldn't afford to have that happen. No one was going to do that to her.

"I'll give you anything you ask but my identity," she said in a low voice.

He stood up in a surge of raw energy, pulling off his leather boots and  dark trousers. "Anything?" he snarled. "Are you sure of that?"

"Yes," she said, refusing to back down. "I'm sure."

His body entranced her with its hard planes and flow of muscle. She rose  to her knees, the light from the open windows catching on the sequins  of her mask. Leaning forward, she very delicately tongued his nipple,  hearing his harsh gasp of pleasure over the thrumming of blood in her  ears. Then she clasped him by the hips, burying his arousal in the soft  valley between her breasts. He threw back his head, thrusting into her,  then suddenly pushing her back to fall on top of her on the bed.

"I can't think of anything but wanting you," he gasped, laving her  breasts and belly with hands and tongue, then moving lower to push her  thighs open. She was all too ready for him, wet, hot and slick.

"I can't believe I-" she began, then forgot everything as again he  overpowered her, sending her, sobbing his name, to topple over the edge.  But even then he didn't let up. From a long way away, she felt him ease  between her legs, felt that first hard push and enveloped him as if  he'd been made for her, and her alone.

His silken thrusts, her own heated welcome … she writhed beneath him, out  of control, beyond herself, in a joining that she couldn't have resisted  to save her soul. Possessiveness, primitive and furious, drove her  upward until his elemental rhythms were her own.

She heard him cry out sharply, saw his face convulse, and felt deep  within her the strength and surrender of his release. Her own followed  inexorably, throwing her against him as waves dash themselves against  the cliffs.

Utterly spent, Lia drew him down to lie over her. His forehead dug her  mask into her cheek even as his breath cooled her throat. When she could  find her voice, she whispered, "I've never in my life felt anything  like that."                       
       
           



       

"Neither have I."

Part of her wanted to toss off a joke, to make light of a mating that  had thrown all her preconceptions of herself into disarray. But she knew  she'd regret it if she did; for this mating was not to be defused so  easily. "So for you it was different, too?"

"Couldn't you tell?"

"I'm not exactly experienced."

"My second name is control," he said tightly, raising his head to look  straight through the slits in her mask into her eyes. "But I lost it.  Totally. With you."

What was she supposed to say to that? For she believed him without a  sliver of doubt. Trust, indeed, Lia thought with a quiver of panic. How  could she trust a man she'd only met an hour ago? Trust was the word on  which friendships were based. Not one-night stands. "So did I," she  mumbled. "Lose it, I mean."

"I noticed," he said dryly.

She gave him the faintest of smiles. "Perhaps we could go a little slower next time?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," he said harshly. "If there's one thing  I've learned in the last hour, it's not to anticipate as far as you're  concerned. A useless exercise."

Suddenly intensely curious, Lia said, "You must have had a lot of women … I don't see how I'm so different."

"I've never gone from woman to woman, that's not the way I operate. Nor  do I ever allow a woman to get too close. You're different because I had  no choice."

His expression was inimical. With a shiver along her spine, she said, "That's what's so frightening-neither did I."

"Right now, I want you again," he said with passionate intensity. "I  want to take my time, explore every inch of your body and learn what  pleases you-I want to put my seal on you so you'll never forget me."

"Seth," she said quietly, "I'll never forget you."

Lines of frustration scoring his cheeks, he said, "But you won't tell me who you are."

"You know more about me than anyone else in the world!" she said with explosive truth. "You've got to be content with that."

"We'll see," he said, and ran his hand down her hip. "Your skin's so  silky, so smooth … like the inside of a shell." He took the tip of her  breast between his fingers, gently tugging on it. "You like that, don't  you?"

"Yes," she breathed, seeking his mouth with hers, "I like that."

He carried her with him, caress by caress, and each one, she would have  sworn, was imbued with tenderness and the simple wish to give her  pleasure. With an answering tenderness she traced collarbone, rib and  hipbone, kissed muscle and flank, then finally encircled his arousal,  watching his eyes darken and hearing his breath quicken. "Not so fast,"  he gasped, lifting her to straddle him, his hands spanning her waist as  the light of a Parisian moon fell white on her skin.