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She shook her head, her rich voice mellowing to a slow, sexy drawl. ‘I don’t feel civilised enough for conversation. I tend to go a little wild when you touch me and tonight I want to let go completely; I want to set the wildness free. I only hope that you don’t find me too uninhibited for your tastes...’
A pulse jolted in his left temple. ‘I don’t know what my tastes are,’ he reminded her roughly, his lower hand unconsciously dragging her hips possessively against him. ‘I know so little about women and their physical needs that it’s far more likely that you’ll be the one who’s disappointed by my inexperienced performance...’
She cupped her hands over his slightly roughened jaw and slid them down his throat, feeling the ripple of nervous tension as he swallowed.
‘This isn’t an audition, Luke,’ she chided him softly. ‘Believe me, you have all the right instincts and that’s all that matters. All you have to do is enjoy yourself and the rest will happen naturally.’ Her eyes were very green as she assured him gravely, ‘And just for the record it’s been a long time for me too. Years... I guess I was waiting for a very special man to make me feel special...and that man is you, Luke...’
She kissed him and for a moment he was passive, but only for a moment. Then the power of her words shuddered through him and he tipped her head back with the devouring force of his hunger. He held her suffocatingly tight, kissing her with a savage eagerness that shattered the last boundaries of his restraint. His hands relentlessly explored her slender back, massaging lower and lower until the floaty hem of her dress was hiked up the back of her thighs, then sliding underneath to cup her lace-covered bottom, lifting her higher into his groin.
He pulled back, frowning as he watched the silk of her bodice peel off his chest and settle back over her taut breasts.
‘I’m naked,’ he said thickly, as if he had only just realised the fact.
‘I know.’ Rosalind playfully ran her fingertips across his shoulders and chest, sweeping them down his sides to linger on the tapered leanness of his muscled flanks. ‘I’m glad you don’t wear pyjamas. You’re very beautiful in the nude; just looking at you excites me...’
His flush deepened and his nostrils flared. ‘I usually wear boxers in bed,’ he said vaguely, ‘but tonight I couldn’t—I didn’t want anything next to my skin...’
The smile she gave him was sultry and knowing. She dropped her gaze to the point where their hips were sealed together, the erotic pressure preserving his modesty.
‘Except me?’
‘Except you,’ he admitted heatedly, his expression becoming dark and devilish as he watched her smile curve with a hint of complacency, the feminine version of a flung-down gauntlet.
The male in him bristled at her confidence even as he exulted in a fierce sense of victory. The element of danger only added spice to the situation. Edgy, emotional, elegantly sensuous Roz Marlow had finally succeeded in luring herself into his net. Just when he had almost conceded defeat she turned around and did something like this. She was a riddle, wrapped inside a mystery.
But not for much longer. A night of unbridled passion might be all she thought she was offering, but he intended to take more...much more. He would unwrap her secrets just as surely as he intended to unwrap that dainty, delectable body.
His fingers moved provocatively, sliding down inside her fragile lace panties to smooth over the softly rounded cheeks of her bottom. Rosalind shivered and instinctively moved her hips into his touch, but instead of lingering to enjoy her acquiescence Luke continued to plunge his hands downwards, pushing her panties to her knees and then, with a sudden dip and a sideways twist, raking them roughly to her ankles.
He straightened, meeting her startled eyes with a look of blazing male triumph at his reckless daring. To her astonishment she felt herself blush and he gloated openly at the betraying crack in her facade of worldly sophistication. His hands settled firmly back on her waist, holding her steady as he ordered gruffly, ‘Step out of them.’
Rosalind obeyed, her legs brushing against his, trembling slightly in response to his smouldering aura of suppressed sexual excitement. He liked giving her orders and her meek show of obedience was an incitement to his boldness.
‘Are you wearing a bra?’ he demanded in a low, smoky growl.
Rosalind nodded, even though they both knew an answer was unnecessary. He had traced the outline of it while he had been kissing her, his fingers meticulously investigating the seams and identifying the fastening between her shoulderblades. He had merely asked so as to tantalise her with the knowledge of what he was going to do next. He wanted her naked under the liquid silk dress, dressed yet undressed, vulnerable to his desire...
‘It’s strapless,’ she told him unsteadily as his hand slipped through the wide armhole of her halter-necked dress to deal with the hooks. He took so long that she wanted to scream but the combination of taunting deliberation and fumbling difficulty was so much a part of the intensely erotic scenario that Rosalind forced herself to stand still until finally the flimsy undergarment gave way. He tugged and gravity obliged as her bra slithered out from under the loose A-line dress, landing with a hushed thud at her feet that seemed to quake through every nerve cell in her body.
Rosalind had never been so aware of her own sexuality as she was at that moment—never been more anxious for a man’s approval.
Luke stared at the polished silk rippling over her skin like a midnight-blue waterfall, a provocative veil for the supple contours beneath. The thin sheen of the fabric was sculpted taut between her high breasts, her nipples jutting out as stiff peaks from which the graceful cut of the dress cascaded away to shimmer and swirl around her slender hips and honey-smooth legs. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his hands flexing violently at his sides, his manhood stirring and thickening against his flat belly. She had been mistaken in thinking that he had been fully aroused when he’d got out of bed, Rosalind realised with a flutter of apprehension.
She had the feeling that in his lovemaking, as in most other things, Luke was capable of a fierce concentration that brooked no distractions. She didn’t think he would actually force her, but the familiar vague-eyed absorption with which he was studying her made her wonder if he might unintentionally hurt her in the throes of passion. Yet, oddly, her fear—of his size and the more nebulous threat of his identity—merely gave her own desire an added piquancy.
‘Is this what happened in your dream?’ she challenged, feeling a slow wave of heat wash through her body at the thought of being compelled to accommodate that potent hardness.
In answer he reached out and cupped her breasts through the silk, lifting the soft mounds and smoothing the fabric with his thumbs so that her distended nipples were outlined even more explicitly.
‘This is much better than a dream,’ he muttered as her breasts ripened and grew heavy in his cradling hands. He licked his lips and Rosalind unconsciously arched her back but he ignored the subtle invitation. His gaze lowered to her hem and his hands followed, gathering the flimsy fabric and slowly pushing it up her honey-coloured thighs until he exposed a tantalising glimpse of fiery red curls.
‘Much better...’ he whispered hoarsely, letting the dress fall again, veiling her femininity in a dark swirl of silk. His hands moved up over her belly, shaping the delicate imprint of her navel...up to her breasts again, and back down to toy with her hem...to slip his hand up underneath and delicately brush his fingertips over the unseen fleece... to reach around and massage the silk over the flare of her hips, tracing it into the sensitive crease between her quivering buttocks.
He was playing with her. This gorgeous, naked, inexperienced man was playing her like a master...drawing out the exquisite agony of desire until Rosalind thought she was going to explode with frustration at her passive role.
‘Aren’t you going to take it off?’ she blurted out jerkily as he wound a swathe of silk around his fist, forming another shimmering perspective of her body. Luke’s erotic absorption faltered and suddenly it occurred to her that perhaps he wasn’t quite sure of his next move. ‘Or would you like to watch me do it?’ she said, reaching behind her neck and releasing the jewelled clasp that was the dress’s only fastening.
‘Yes, you do it,’ he murmured thickly, his hard body glossy with a faint mist of perspiration as he watched her cross her arms and whisk the flared hemline up over her head.
