His Secretary Mistress(42)

She should move, a warning voice sounded in her subconscious. But he was still asleep, what harm would it do to steal a few moments of pleasure? In sleep his stern features appeared more relaxed, and she stared at him, absorbing the sheer beauty of his bone structure, the chiselled contours of his face and the resolute strength of his chin. The sheet lay across his chest and she couldn’t prevent her fingers from pushing it lower, to reveal the whorls of dark hair that arrowed down to his hips.

She should stop, the warning voice told her. But the temptation to push the sheet even lower was too strong, and she held her breath, listening to his and watching the even rise and fall of his chest.

‘God, you’re a fidget!’

The sheet was halfway down his hip, and her hand trembled as she flicked it back into place, her eyes huge with mortification, guilt, and an elemental hunger she couldn’t disguise.

‘How long have you been awake?’ she whispered accusingly, and his mouth curved into a lazy smile.

‘Long enough.’

‘What must you think of me?’ she muttered thickly, and he slid his hand into her hair to prevent her from escaping.

‘I think that this has gone on long enough,’ he told her rawly, the silence of the room so intense that the ticking of the clock sounded as thunderous as her pounding heart. ‘I think you’ve finally come to realise, as I have, that this was inevitable from the moment we first met. This hunger, this driving need, is too strong to fight any more. Kiss me,’ he demanded, his eyes burning into hers, his hand exerting gentle pressure so that she lowered her head and her mouth skimmed his in a tentative caress.

As she leaned over him his arms closed around her, crushing her against his chest, and his lips moved softly on hers, allowing her to set the pace and initiate her own delicate exploration. His fingers threaded through her hair, cupped her nape so that she couldn’t escape even if she wanted, but she was already lost in a sea of sensation, where clinging to his shoulders was her only chance of salvation.

‘I want to make love to you,’ he whispered against her throat, before his mouth sought a path to the valley between her breasts and hovered there.

She felt his hand slide beneath the hem of the all-concealing nightdress, and when he drew the material up she wriggled so that he could pull it over her head. She remained kneeling on the bed while the moonlight revelled in her nakedness.

‘You are exquisite,’ Alex groaned as his hands cupped her pale breasts, discovered their softness and moved slowly, inexorably, towards their peaks, his thumb-pads stroking her nipples so that sensation ripped through her.

And suddenly she didn’t want him to be gentle any more. He sensed her need and felt an answering shaft of desire pierce him, so that he tumbled her onto her back and came down on top of her, the tangle of sheets cast aside so that she was aware of hair-roughened thighs pressed against her skin, the throbbing hardness of his arousal pushing against her stomach. His mouth took hers with a passion that rocked her soul, and she matched him with a fervency that banished any last vestiges of doubt from his mind. She wanted him as much as he wanted her; they were drawn together by an invisible cord and there would be no going back.

Jenna whimpered low in her throat when Alex’s lips released hers to wreak havoc on her senses. He stroked his tongue across her taut nipple before taking it fully into his mouth and suckling, so that a shaft of intense pleasure unfurled in the pit of her stomach. His fingertips lightly skimmed her waist, moved lower to stroke her thighs, and then, gently but firmly, eased her legs apart to continue an erotic exploration that caused her to inhale sharply.

She wanted him, she wanted him; the litany danced in her mind, increasing in urgency as his fingers probed deeper, and she heard his husky growl of pleasure when he found her wet and so very ready for him. As he moved over her she felt a frisson of apprehension when she became aware of just how big and aroused he was, but almost instantly her fear dissipated, to be replaced with a compelling need to feel him inside her, so that they were joined as one.

He slid his hands beneath her to cup her bottom and lift her slightly, and she had no thought to deny him, but stretched her legs wider to accommodate him, unable to stifle her gasp as he entered her with one powerful stroke. For a moment she tensed—it had been a long time and her muscles were tight—but he stilled, waited, his lips moving over hers in gentle persuasion until he felt her relax, and only then did he begin to move. He set the pace, slow at first, driving into her so that the waves of pleasure built gradually, almost imperceptibly, until she found herself hovering at the edge, hardly daring to believe what was happening to her.