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A dampness that had nothing to do with his fever bloomed on his skin, exuding a musky scent and belatedly making her realise that he wasn’t fighting for victory so much as enjoying the arousing effects of a full body-to-body massage. The threat of physical harm, which had never been very real, was now eclipsed by a far more insidious menace.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ she hissed as he slowly rotated his hips against the crush of her belly and uttered a sexy little moan.
‘This is so fantastic…’ he dreamed with closed eyes, his lower body undulating, his hand insinuating itself into the parted slit in her skirt, sliding up the back of her crooked leg towards the fullness of her bottom. ‘You feel so different than I’d imagined…firm, yet so deliciously soft where you’re most a woman…’
‘Stop that!’ she elbowed his arm away and straightened her leg with a jerk, and he groaned again as her knee dragged heavily across his swollen groin.
His hands moved over her sequinned back. ‘Oh, yes…do that again. I like it when you’re rough with me…’
‘Matt!’
He opened his eyes and gave her a glazed smile. ‘Are you going to take all your clothes off now, so we can have sex?’
The suggestion almost blew off the top of her head. ‘No!’
His sultry certainty didn’t waver. ‘When we’re both nude I’ll be able to feel every part of you against me…’ His voice was thick with excitement ‘Feel and see everything while we’re making love—’
‘We’re not going to be making love!’
‘Why?’ He regarded her with heavy-lidded confusion. ‘We’re already in bed together—’
‘We’re on a bed, not in it,’ she clarified. ‘You’re supposed to be resting—’
‘But I don’t want to rest. I want you to make love to me—’
To? Not with? Rachel’s imagination ran riot even as she choked out, ‘You can’t always have what you want.’
‘But you want it too,’ he insisted. ‘I know you do. I can feel it—I can see the way you look at me.’
He knew and felt and saw too damned much for a man who was supposed to be drunk and incapable!
/> It had been two years since she had experienced any sexual stirrings, and Rachel was unprepared for the sudden reawakening of her dormant feelings. She lashed herself with the knowledge that her carnal curiosity was shamefully inappropriate: he was too young; he wasn’t in the full possession of his senses; he was, if not her enemy, then at the very least a serious opponent of her professional interests; and he was already involved with another woman. To succumb to his drunken seduction she would have to be both mad and bad…
‘Stop it—Matthew, I’m serious! I don’t want to have to hurt you,’ she threatened, fending off his wandering hands.
‘You won’t hurt me…it’s only women who sometimes find it painful,’ he murmured bemusingly, his eyes hot and smoky. ‘But I’m ready for you, Rachel. You can do whatever you like to me—I promise I’ll like it.’
She felt a deep, erotic thrill. ‘For God’s sake, Matthew,’ she whispered. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing—’
‘So? You can show me. Please…I’ll be a good lover. I’m a very quick study and it won’t take me long to figure out what you like best.’ The phrases tumbled over one another, each word slurring into the next. He tried to slither clumsily on top of her, and in a flurry of sequins she pinned his back to the bed, hitching up her gown to straddle his hips with a pincer movement of her strong thighs, bracing herself above him on stiffened arms, her hands flat against his shoulders.
‘I said no!’
‘But Merrilyn told you to make sure I had everything I wanted,’ he reminded her soulfully.
‘She said need, not want.’
‘But I do need you, Rachel.’ His black eyes burned with passionate conviction. ‘I need you now.’ He dug his heels into the mattress and arched his hips, pushing himself up between her spread thighs in an attempt to demonstrate just how urgent was his desire. The swollen hardness barely contained by his damp underwear nudged at the gauzy lace covering the core of her feminine being, sending a secret tingle shooting along the cluster of exposed nerve-endings.
‘You have to help me…you’re the one she chose to soothe the savage beast.’
‘Breast,’ Rachel corrected automatically, and inwardly groaned at her stupidity as his steamy gaze obediently sank to her cleavage, brandished almost under his nose. ‘It’s savage breast, not beast,’ she explained quickly. ‘People often misquote that line.’
His mind did not appear to be improved by her informative little lecture.
‘Your breasts don’t look savage to me,’ he told her gravely, his flattened hands creeping up her sides. ‘They look like velvet pillows, all big and plush and soft.’ He lifted his head from the pillow and drew in a deep, sighing breath. ‘They smell nice, too…sweet and warm and spicy…’
His head sank back as his questing hands slid the final distance to cup the ripe fruit dangling so tantalisingly within his reach, cupping their overflowing weight in his hot palms. ‘And they make an incredibly sexy handful…’
