The intent in his deep voice had her gaze darting back to him, fixing on him as he stepped slowly, unhurriedly, toward her.
Eyes widening, she instinctively backed, equally slowly, step by step—as she knew he intended her to. He didn’t rush or grab, but simply herded her.
Until her back came up against the bole of a tall tree; smooth and ungiving, she let it support her. She licked her lips, watched him close the distance between them, his eyes heating as they followed the tip of her tongue. “Why good?”
The question was little more than a murmur as his hands bracketed her waist and he moved close.
He paused, then replied, “Because I’m going to kiss you, and then I’m going to ravish you, here in the dark wood under the trees.” His eyes lifted and met hers; he held her gaze for an instant, then lowered his eyes again to her lips. “And you’re going to enjoy every second.”
Chapter 11
He kissed her, but this time he hadn’t caught her hands; she held them up, palms out, uncertain, then tentatively rested them on his shoulders.
Waiting to see…
But he was right; there was nothing in his kiss, nothing in him to frighten her. She knew him, recognized him, felt comfortable and safe with him. His tongue cruised her lips; she parted them, let him enter. His tongue found hers, then stroked, heavy and certain, confident of her response; her senses sighed and yielded.
The kiss went on, grew hotter, more demanding, more commanding of her wits, her mind, her senses. Her body. Held trapped between his hands, braced against the tree, it heated, then smoldered, then burned; he set a steady flame within her, and steadily, ruthlessly stoked it.
His hands slid upward and found her breasts, claimed them, left them heavy and swollen with aching need; his fingers tweaked her nipples to tight, excruciatingly sensitive buds. Even muted by two layers of cloth, his touch—flagrantly possessive—affected her profoundly, sank into her psyche and touched something there.
A darker, stronger passion.
At first she thought it was his, then she recognized it as her own. Realized that with him, not only did she feel it, but she could own it—embrace it.
She liked being held, trapped between unforgiving wood at her back and a passionate man intent on ravishing her. A dangerous like.
An alluring like. One that sparked her senses and made them come alive.
Then one hand left her breast and he reached for her skirts, this time wasting no time in lifting them, in gathering them up, bunching them between them, then sliding his hand beneath.
To find her bare skin, and possess that, too.
He cupped the back of her thigh, bare above her stocking, then ran his hand up, spread his fingers and cupped one globe of her bottom, hand to naked skin. He kneaded, not as gentle as last night—more, she sensed on a spurt of delicious awareness, driven.
That he wanted her she’d never doubted, yet he’d so successfully reined his passions, held his desires under such tight control that she’d got little taste of them…until now.
His hand flexed, gripped her bottom; his other hand kneaded her breast. His lips and tongue plundered her senses without quarter, and she sensed…
The power in him. His elemental male dominance, the strength, the will, the passion that could so easily overwhelm her, that would allow him to take from her whatever he wished at any time.
Before her thoughts could even coalesce about that realization, he pulled back from the kiss. Just an inch. His hand flexed, caressed her bottom as from under heavy lids his eyes raked her face.
She lifted her lids just enough to see…the raw hunger that prowled just beneath his controlled exterior. It was no surprise to discover her breathing was unsteady, too fast, a trifle ragged, but to realize that his was too was a slight shock—albeit one that brought a distinct thrill.
His gaze lowered to her lips. “Those words we agreed to yesterday—they still work.”
“‘No,’ ‘wait,’ and ‘slow’?”
He nodded, leaned in again. “They’ll always work. With me.”
That was all he’d wanted to say, to tell her. His lips covered hers and he waltzed her straight back into their fire, the conflagration of heated passion waiting to sear their senses, to consume them.
The hand beneath her skirts shifted, boldly moved to splay over her belly, tensing, claiming, then he wedged one hard thigh between hers, eased her legs wider apart, and his long hard fingers speared down and between, and found her.
Claimed her.
Not just the sensitive spot he’d caressed last night, although he paused to pay homage there and set her senses leaping. This time he reached further, stroking, caressing, parting, then probing, evocatively exploring.