The rain was falling asheavily as ever, but it didn't cool her. She felt as if nothing could ever coolher again. "Where are we going?"
"The railwaystation." He spurred ahead. "It's closer."
It didn't seem close. By thetime they reined in at the station platform, she was trembling and shaking, asif with the fever.
"Hurry," he saidjerkily as he lifted her down. "Where are the keys?"
The maharajah's car. He wantedthe keys to the railway car. She fumbled in the pocket of her sodden denim trousersas he propelled her across the platform toward the maharajah's private car. Hegrabbed the keys, unlocked the gold door, and pulled her inside. He slammed thedoor behind them.
The car was in half darkness,the light streaming through the window gray and bleak, the raindrops runningdown the glass veiling the interior from the outside world.
"Hurry." Ruelstripped off his shirt and threw it on the carpet. "God, just listen tome. I promised you it wouldn't be fast and I'm like all the others. But I'lltry… " He turned and saw that she hadn't moved. "Why aren't youundressing?"
She couldn't seem to move. Shewas aching, still hot with the same fever, but found herself unable to lookaway from him. She had never seen anyone so alive, so charged with emotion. Shecould feel his need and passion. He blazed like a thousand burning candles inthe pearly dimness.
"Don't tell me you'vechanged your mind. I couldn't… " He stepped closer, his fingersunbuttoning her shirt, his tone velvet-soft, almost crooning. "Did Ifrighten you? I promise you'll like me. We have only to get past the firsttime, and I'll keep my word."
His brown hair was wet, andshe couldn't distinguish the golden threads she knew ran through it. Hismagnificent face was alight, his eyes shimmering as he exerted a magnetism sostrong, she could only stare at him, mesmerized.
He peeled the wet shirt offher and dropped it on the floor. He slowly bent forward and his warm lipsbrushed the hollow of her left shoulder.
A shudder went through her.The touch was much less intimate than the ones that had gone before, butsomehow was more boldly sensual.
"I'm hurting so much, Idon't think I can hold on for very long until—" He broke off and laughedharshly as he looked down at his hands. "Christ, look at me. I'mtrembling. You'll have to do the rest yourself."
His confession of weaknessbroke the spell. Her hands were also trembling as they went to her belt. Shefelt weak, helpless, wax-pliable, her heart pounding as hard as the rain on themetal roof. Dear heaven, she wanted his hands on her again. She had to ridherself of these clothes, rid herself of barriers so that he would touch her.
"That's right." Histone was coaxing, encouraging, as he sat down on the divan and took off hisboots. "It's going to be fine. You know we both want this." Hepaused, half undressed, his gaze on the fleece surrounding her womanhood."Soft," he whispered. "I remember how soft… "
Heat moved through her, andshe clenched as if his hand were still there between her thighs, searching,caressing.
He saw the movement and amuscle jerked in his cheek. "Come here."
She moved toward him, obeyingwithout question, vaguely aware of the softness of the carpet under the solesof her bare feet. She stopped before him.
He gently parted her thighs,and his hand cupped her as he had before.
Pleasure, need, hunger.
"You want me?" Hisfinger rotated, pressed..
She shuddered."Yes."
"You want to draw me inand hold me?"
"Yes."
"Fast? Hard?"
"Yes."
He pushed her gently down onthe divan and was between her thighs. "Then take me," he saidhoarsely as he nudged into her womanhood.
She gasped as she felt theintrusion, warm, smooth, club-hard.
He frowned. "Don't fightme. I'm not going to hurt you. Let me in."
"I'm not fightingyou," she said. If anything, she was fighting to take him, accept more.
