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“Then come.” He curled a finger, beckoning her, thick bicep curving.
He had an amazing body, an athlete’s body with broad shoulders, deep chest and hard flat abs that tapered to narrow muscular hips, a body that had taken years to develop.
“Come,” he repeated. “I’m hungry for you.”
Hannah shivered at the rough urgency of his voice and the sexy command, Come. I’m hungry for you.
For a moment her conscience shrieked a protest, and then she silenced it. She needed him. Needed this.
It’d been forever since she’d been wanted, forever since anyone had touched her, loved her. And it was hard to pretend she never needed anything, much less love.
Not that this would be love.
But it’d be something. Zale liked her. Wanted her. And for tonight that was enough.
Hannah walked toward him. She felt his gaze travel over her face and down her body as she closed the gap between him, her breasts growing heavier and more sensitive with every step until she stood before him. He was tall, very tall, and muscular, and overwhelmingly male.
He reached out and unknotted the sash on her trench coat and discarded it. And then watching her from beneath heavy lids, he pushed the coat back from her slim shoulders and let it fall. His gaze dropped to the daring décolleté of her satin gown, the ivory fabric molded to her rounded breasts. Her nipples strained against the satin cups, the darker areola visible through the fabric.
“You are without doubt the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
His voice was deep, rough with desire and she warmed all over, senses coming to life.
“Beauty isn’t everything,” she murmured.
A small muscle pulled at his jaw. “You’re right.” He ran the back of his fingers across her soft cheek. “So what does matter, Emmeline?”
She stared up into his face, seeing emotion darken his eyes and tighten his strong, handsome features. Tension rippled through him. “You. Me. Us.”
His gaze dropped to rest on her mouth, his dense black lashes fanning his high cheekbones. “So you know I’m now playing for keeps.”
Her cheeks burned, her body felt feverish. She cared about nothing right now but him, this. The future wasn’t hers to have. All she had was tonight. All she had was now. “Good.”
She took a step closer to Zale and placed her hands on his chest, slowly sliding her palms over the smooth, hard plane of muscle there.
“Make me forget everything,” she whispered, voice breaking, as she lifted her mouth to his. “Make me forget everything but you.”
Zale slid the straps of her nightgown down over her arms until it fell off her, pooling in a puddle of ivory silk at her feet.
He stood back and looked her over as the fire crackled and burned, light flickering over her, highlighting her curves before slowly drawing her into his arms.
He kissed her as if she tasted like wine and honey, his lips parting hers, his tongue probing her mouth and then teasing her tongue before sucking on it.
She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck, but even then she felt as if she couldn’t get close enough. She wanted more of him, wanted all of him, and she welcomed his hard chest crushing her breasts and the cool buckle of his belt grazing her naked belly.
“Want you,” he said thickly.
She nodded and reached for his belt, unfastening the buckle, and then the button on his trousers and finally the zipper.
But before she could tug at his trousers he broke away, leaned over to remove his shoes, socks and then the pants fell, leaving just his snug briefs that barely contained him.
She found herself staring wide-eyed as he peeled the briefs away and he sprung free, very large, very hard and very erect. This king came well-equipped, she thought breathlessly, feeling a pinch of panic as it had been a long time since she’d done this and he looked maybe too big.
“You look nervous,” he said.
Her head spun and she moistened her lips. “I am.”
“Why?”
“You’re … big. Not sure how this will work.” “Don’t worry. I know how.”
She heard the wicked note in his voice as well as the hint of something else, something that sounded like tenderness.
He took her hand, and tugged, drawing her to the carpet in front of the fire.
She glanced at the fire. “Not the bed?” Her voice wobbled with a fit of nerves. It’d been four years since she made love. Four years before she’d been intimate like this and suddenly she wasn’t sure she could do it.
He pressed her gently back onto the carpet, and stretched out next to her, running his hand from her waist, over her ribs, across a full breast and down again. “Love your breasts,” he murmured. “They’re absolutely perfect.”
