November Harlequin Presents 2(28)

She gave a strangled cry, and his last shred of control seemed to evaporate. He shrugged down her pants with one hand like the last act of a desperate man, exposing her to the kiss of the gentle breeze while he freed himself with the other hand.

She guided him to her, even as he battled to don protection, and she felt that jolt of first, come-in-spinner contact, and the tingling invitation of her muscles welcoming him home. She didn’t have long to wait. He powered into her on one long thrust that took both their breaths away. They stayed locked that way together for what seemed like long seconds, savouring the feel of each other, before he slowly withdrew, a painful goodbye, then blessedly pressed himself home again in another long thrust, and then another.

She wrapped her legs around him and gave herself up to the sensations, lost herself in a rhythm powered by a far greater primal beat, lost herself in him.

The night air caressed them even as the fire burned between them, even as the flames burned brighter and more urgent.

Even as the blaze consumed her in one long, shuddering explosion.

She clung to him, weak and spent, her breathing jagged, suddenly feeling exposed and self-conscious in her half nakedness.

‘Maybe now,’ he whispered between breaths as he drew the straps of her dress up to cover her breasts, ‘we might make it as far as the house.’

She chuckled, silently thanking him for defusing the moment, and felt him lift her chin. He looked down at her with a look so deep she shuddered to the core. ‘Do you have any idea what your smile does to me?’

Warmth rolled over her in a heated wave. Oh Lord, but he shouldn’t say things like that to her. He shouldn’t give her ideas. Tonight was about lust, about scratching an itch, and he shouldn’t go putting thoughts in her head, thoughts of what could never be.

He pressed his lips to hers as he swung her into his arms and strode purposefully with her to the house, through rooms, until he set her down in the centre of an enormous bed. Full-length windows brought the garden and swaying palms indoors, their shifting fronds dancing in the dappled moonlight.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘Where were we?’ He shrugged off his jacket and undid his shirt, and Tegan was reminded of another time, another place, when he’d taken off his clothes for her—but that time she’d run from him and kept on running.

Fool, she berated herself, regretting the days and nights she’d wasted in trying to avoid the inevitable.

This time she didn’t run. Not even when he stepped out of his trousers and peeled away his underwear, and revealed the sculpted perfection of his body. Every last glorious inch of him.

This time she wasn’t running anywhere. Already her body was preparing for their next encounter. She slipped off her shoes and, kneeling on the bed, slid down the zip on her dress. She let the straps fall from her shoulders, the weight of the skirt pulling it past her waist and down to pool around her knees, leaving her naked before him apart from her stockings.

His choked gasp of appreciation fed into her psyche, further fuelling her unaccustomed shamelessness. She leant down, and touched a hand to the lace top of one stocking.

‘Leave them,’ he insisted, joining her on the bed and untangling her from the circle of her dress as he ran his hands up the shimmering length of her legs. ‘I’ve been dreaming about these all week.’

More words she didn’t need to hear. Not when after tonight she’d be walking away. But she tossed the misgiving away, refusing to let it spoil the magic of this night, the magic of what he was doing to her nipples with his mouth and hands right now, and the magic feel of him pressing between her thighs once again.

After tonight there could be no more dreaming. But at least she had tonight. At least she would have memories.



‘Stay with me for the weekend.’

She rolled her head away. ‘I can’t. I have plans.’

‘Cancel them,’ he said gruffly. He’d never known a night like it. They’d made love and then shared a spa; he’d pleasured her with his mouth, and then she’d more than returned the favour, and still they’d fallen into each other’s arms when they’d returned to bed. Now they’d just woken up to great sex. Why should it end now? The weekend was just a pup.

‘I can’t.’

‘I’m sure you’ll find a way,’ he said, biting back on a much earthier retort. ‘I have much better plans in mind for the weekend.’

She just shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’

He latched his mouth onto the nearest nipple and drew it in deep, taking a different form of attack. She’d proven how responsive she was to his touch last night. She trembled in response, but still managed to shrug him away. ‘Please don’t do that. I really have to go.’