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He'd never kissed her in quite that way before. She felt the soft touch of his mouth, the gentle nibble of his teeth against her lips, the lick of his tongue teasingly soothing the supposed bite, savouring the taste of her.
'So lush, so soft,' he breathed against her lips. 'Open your mouth for me, Zoe,' he husked, his lips rubbing sensually against hers, taunting her into sharing the pleasure, and she did. . .
Before, he had always been a silent lover, but now he had no such reservations, and his deep, throaty murmurings, interspersed with longer and deeper kisses, were her downfall—hot, damp heat filled her loins and she felt it burn through her whole body.
As she was held on his lap her arms, of their own volition, wound around his neck; her mouth followed where his led. The husky male scent of him surrounded and seduced her; she felt the rigid muscles of his thighs beneath her and she pressed into his hard body with hungry need.
'No,' he whispered roughly. 'Not here.' Rising to his feet, with Zoe held firmly in his arms, his breathing quick and unsteady, he strode through the apartment. He shouldered open the bedroom door, and kicked it shut with his foot, not stopping until he was standing next to the king-size bed.
She looked searchingly up into the dark eyes so close to her own. 'Justin, I. . .' She wanted some reassura
nce, perhaps, that it wasn't simply a physical thing.
'It's too late, Zoe. I'm too old for teasing games; I want you badly. Now!' he said harshly.
She trembled with fear or frustration—she didn't know which. 'Yes,' she murmured. It didn't really matter which! She had to go through with it for Val—but also, her own innate sense of honesty forced her to admit, for herself. . . She had had nearly four long years of celibacy and she had never stopped wanting Justin, however much she had tried to deny it.
She sighed, a deep, shuddering breath, as Justin stood her on her feet and quickly unbuttoned her dress, slipping it from her shoulders to pool in a heap on the floor.
'Nice,' he growled, his hungry eyes slanting over her near-naked form, the proud tilt of her full breasts, and the wisp of lace briefs cupping her feminine curls.
The urge to cover herself was compelling but juvenile. Justin had seen her naked countless times in the past, but it didn't stop her feeling helplessly exposed. Running her tongue nervously over dry lips, she forced herself to stand immobile, her arms at her sides; she couldn't afford to let him see her nervousness.
And he didn't. His dark eyes glittered as they followed the tip of her tongue, while the fingers of one hand hooked in her briefs and pulled them down. His gaze lowered lazily over her naked body and then, dropping to his knees, he slowly unfastened her suspenders and trailed her stockings down her legs, and finally he glanced up at her and undid her garter belt. His large hands curved around her waist and he brushed her stomach with his lips. Her body jerked in instantreaction, and she bit her lip to prevent herself crying out.
Justin rose to his feet and simply stared at her. 'I thought the first time I unwrapped my Valentine girl in this room that you were perfect.' He shook his dark head wonderingly.
She raised her eyes to his. And I thought you loved me, she wanted to cry, but didn't. In those days she had believed that love made the world go round. A brief, ironic smile flitted across her softly flushed face. With maturity had come realism. Now she accepted that it was simple thermodynamics. . .
They stared at each other, the air around them crackling with tension. He divested himself of his own clothes, never taking his eyes off her, drinking in the sight of her pale skin, the soft, full curve of her breasts, the secret, downy hair.
But Zoe was doing some observing of her own. 'Justin.' She breathed his name. Awed all over again by his superbly muscled form, which was naked and glowing golden in the dim light of one small lamp, she had forgotten how splendidly male, how powerful he was.
Then he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to the valley between her breasts. His hands curving around and down over her buttocks, he pulled her hard against him. His mouth trailed up her throat, and his dark eyes gleamed with a feral light in the semi-darkness.
'Remember that night, Zoe? The night you promised to be mine?' he demanded, a sharp edge to his deep voice. 'My own personal valentine.'
It was cruel of him to remind her—as if she could ever forget. She had imagined that it was a lucky omen, getting engaged on Valentine's day, but life had taught her differently. She slid her arms up around his neck and swayed against him.
'Forget the past and let's enjoy tonight,' she pleaded. For once she wanted to forget all her troubles, all the heartache, and surrender herself to the mindless pleasure that only he could give her. Tomorrow she would count the cost, but now now!
'Enjoy the sex; I take it you are protected?'
'Yes,' she lied.
'Of course, my wanton little wife.' His mouth covered hers again, but this time with passionate insistence.
She felt the need in him; her legs trembled against his, her stomach quivered against his hard, masculine life force, and she opened her mouth, her tongue twining with his. He pulled back sharply.
'Slowly, slowly, my darling.' Dazed by his kisses, she did not hear the sneer in his voice. 'It should be interesting discovering what you've learnt over the years,' he drawled with a cynicism that was lost on her as he swung her once more in his arms and deposited them both on the bed.
He looked down the length of her. 'You're as beautiful as ever.' His hand closed over her breasts. 'But before you were a girl; now you are a woman.' His thumb grazed the tip of her breast. 'A surprisingly voluptuous woman in some areas.' His head bent and as his mouth sucked the rosy peak she arched up towards him, fire shooting from her breast to her loins.
'You still like that?' He lifted his head to stare at her, his brown eyes glittering with sensual desire in the harsh contours of his handsome face. She met his eyes, her own wide and dazed with emotion.
'You know I do,' she whispered, her hands lifting to shape his wide shoulders, flow down his strong arms, and move to the broad expanse of his hairy chest. 'I like anything you do,' she confessed throatily, and, like a sculptor moulding a work of art, she traced his masculine form, her fingers delighting in remembering the satin-smooth feel of his skin. Her hands stretched to his waist and around over his firm buttocks.
'Zoe,' he growled, and leant down, his mouth lightly brushing her lips and then finding her breast once more. She lifted her hands and buried them in the thick, silky hair of his head, holding him against her as, arching, she offered him her aching breasts. She shuddered as his hot, moist mouth fed on one swollen nipple and then the other, until a strangled cry escaped her.
