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Her blue eyes flew wide open in protest.
‘You’re overdressed.’ At some point, Mari had no idea how or when, her little shrug had gone, but before she had time to consider how she felt about being naked in front of him he took the hem of her nightshirt in his two hands and pulled. The middle seam parted with a loud ripping sound until the only thing holding it together was the prissy little bow.
Holding her eyes with a wicked smile, he very slowly undid the bow and peeled the fabric apart, then her insides dissolved some more as she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. Warm and musky, it was intoxicating.
‘Look at me.’
She did, her dark lashes parting to reveal the blue languid depths.
Lust slammed through him with a force that threatened to stop his heart, and what a way to go, he thought, drinking in the sight of her gorgeous wanton beauty. Her body was perfect, from the fullness of her high, firm breasts to her long, gorgeous legs that he was imagining wrapped around him.
‘Have you any idea how much I want you?’
‘I have some idea,’ she said, daringly running her hand up his hair-roughened chest and belly.
He gave a low laugh and removed his boxers, drawing an ego-enhancing gasp from Mari.
The first skin-to-skin contact caused a flash of heat within her; the burning continued to build as he kissed her while touching her everywhere until she was on fire. She tensed as he parted her legs, then relaxed as the liquid heat flooded through her body, the pleasure bordering pain, it was so intense.
When he flipped onto his back and fed her hands onto his body she began to eagerly explore his warm, moist skin, fascinated by the overwhelming masculinity of his body, moving across the hard contours of his chest and down over the ridged muscles of his flat belly, while he lay, one hand hooked behind his head, watching her through gleaming hooded eyes.
It gave her a feeling of heady feminine power to curve her fingers around the hard, hot, silky column of his erection and hear him groan with pleasure. So much so that when he removed her hands and pinned them above her head she gave a cry of protest.
‘I need to save some for you,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Let me give you it all, Mari.’
‘Please, oh, please!’
Her frantic plea ripped a lusty growl from his throat as he kissed her.
‘I didn’t sleep with Adrian.’
He lifted his head, and dark eyes glazed with passion blinked down at her. ‘Good.’
‘Or actually anyone.’
For a moment he lay above her perfectly still, every sinew strained, then she heard him mumble, low and sounding like someone in pain. ‘Too late... Do you want me to stop?’
‘No...no...’ She trembled in anticipation, relaxing at the first shallow thrust, no explosion of pain just a feeling of intense pleasure... She let out a moan as he pushed deeper, his tongue sensually mimicking the more intimate movement of his hips.
Instinct made her wrap her legs around his waist as she arched under him, her body rippling tight around him, her fingers clawing at his back.
She clung to him as though he were the only thing stopping her vanishing into the sensual maelstrom that held her in its core as he was in her core, filling her with each stroke, pushing her higher and higher until— When it came, the fierce explosion drew a low keening cry from her throat. She grabbed hold of him and was saying his name over and over as she felt his hot release inside her, then he shuddered and rolled away.
For a moment she felt lost, then he pulled her to him, her head on his chest. She fell asleep listening to the heavy thud of his heartbeat.
He waited for the postcoital sense of emptiness that was the trigger for him to leave the warm bed. He never consciously acknowledged it, but if he had he would have considered it a perfectly reasonable price to pay for retaining control, keeping part of himself separate.
Instead Seb felt an utterly alien feeling of peace. Before he had a chance to ponder it another realisation hit: for the first time in his life, not only had he lost control, but he had not used protection. It had not been calculated, but some sixth sense told him that Mari was not going to give him the benefit of any doubt.
CHAPTER NINE
IN MARI’S DREAM someone was knocking on the door and calling...not her...not her name...and they were speaking a foreign language. It was fluid and nice to listen to but growing louder. Mari pushed free of layers of sleep and lay there smiling, feeling good, feeling... She stretched and muscles complained.
‘Ouch!’ She lifted a hand to smother a yawn and as the sheet, which was the only thing covering her, slid down she realised that she was naked... Naked, and where was she? The rush of recollection coincided with the door swinging inwards and then a woman’s voice, the voice in her dreams, calling.
