“An—anticipation.” Please give me my baby. Just give me my baby and let me out of here.
His fingers brushed the soft hair at the juncture of her thighs, and she wanted to die from the embarrassment of it. She winced as his touch grew more intimate, then tried to turn the sound into a moan of passion. She had to relax. How could she possibly conceive when she was so tense?
“Am I hurting you?”
“No. Of course not. I’ve never been more aroused.”
He gave a snort of disbelief and began to push her skirt to her waist, only to have her grab it at the top of her thighs. “Please don’t do that.”
“I’m startin’ to feel like a sixteen-year-old again, makin’ out in the alley behind Delafield’s Drugstore.” His voice had a husky sound to it she hadn’t heard before, giving her the impression that he didn’t find that particular fantasy entirely unpleasant.
What would it have been like, she wondered, to be the teenage girl making out with the town football hero in the alley behind the drugstore? When she had been sixteen, she was in college. At best, her male classmates had treated her as a kid sister; at worst, they had made snide remarks about “the little bitch who broke the grade curve.”
He trailed his mouth over the bodice of her jacket. She felt the moist heat of his breath on her breast, and she nearly leaped off the bed as his lips found the bump of her nipple.
A hot rush of desire, as unexpected as it was overwhelming, rushed through her. He closed his mouth over her nipple and teased it through the silk with the tip of his tongue. Sensation flooded through her body, waves of it, crashing in on her.
She fought against what was happening. If she permitted herself to derive even a moment’s pleasure from his caress, she would be no better than the prostitute she was impersonating. This had to be a sacrifice, or she could never live with herself.
But Craig had always ignored her breasts, and the sensations were so sweet.
“Oh, please . . . Please don’t do that.” Desperately, she reached out for him and tried to draw him on top of her.
“You’re mighty hard to please, Rosebud.”
“Just do it. Do it, will you!”
She heard something that sounded like anger in his voice. “Whatever the lady wants.”
His fingers opened her. And then she felt an awful pressure as he pushed himself inside. She turned her cheek into the pillow and tried not to cry.
He cursed and began to pull away.
“No!” She clutched at his hips and dug her fingernails into those hard buttocks. “No, please don’t!”
He went still. “Then wrap your legs around me.”
She did as he said.
“Tighter, dammit!”
She tightened her grip, then squeezed her eyes shut as he began to move slowly inside her.
The stretch hurt, but she had expected his brutal warrior’s strength to inflict pain. What she hadn’t expected was how quickly the pain changed to warmth. His movements were unhurried—deep, slow thrusts of silk and steel that unfurled ribbons of pleasure inside her.
Sweat from his body dampened the fragile barrier of her clothing. He reached under her and caught her hips in his hands. He tilted them up, angling his own body in such a way that hot spasms licked at her. Her excitement grew even as she fought to suppress it. Why couldn’t Craig have loved her like this just once?
The fact that she was finding pleasure in having sex with a stranger shamed her, and as the sensations intensified, she tried to concentrate on her research by conjuring up thoughts of the top quark that obsessed her. But her mind refused to focus on subatomic particles, and she knew she had to act or he would push her to orgasm, something that would be unforgivable. She steeled herself, even as her brain warned her of the danger of inciting a warrior.
“Are you . . . going to take all day?”
He went absolutely still. “What did you say?”
She gulped, and her voice held a soft croak. “You heard me. I thought you were supposed to be a great lover? Why is it taking you so long?”
“So long?” He drew back far enough to glare down at her. “You know something, lady? You’re crazy!” And then he lunged.
She bit her lip to keep from crying out as he drove deep. Again and again.
She clung to him with her thighs and her arms, meeting his fierce thrusts with a grim determination. She would stay with him, and she would feel nothing.
But her body rebelled. Those intolerable pleasure waves grew strong. She gasped. Climbed.
And then his muscles stiffened. Every part of him went rigid, and she felt the moment when he spilled himself inside her.
She clutched her hands into fists, her own pleasure forgotten. Swim! Swim, all you warrior babymakers! Swim, all you sweet little brainless babymakers! With a rush of tenderness for the gift he was giving her, she turned her lips to his damp shoulder and gave him a soft kiss of gratitude.