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EIGHT
Tempest ran to herdress lying in a pool on the floor. She eased the decorative brooch off the shoulder and hurried toward the cleansing room door where Roarke had gone. She held the jewelry up to the frame and watched the stone at the center of the piece. The amplifier hidden in the design was the height of technology, its mic so tiny no one would notice.
She might be strung tight and eager to be with Roarke, but when it came to her safety, she didn’t take chances. The glitter of the gem retained its shimmery clear glass appearance and beeped once. She released her breath slowly and cocked her head to the side to hear what it picked up.
The only thing that came through was the sound of running water. No secret conversations or plans to kill her in her sleep. A rough exhale shuddered from her. If anyone had sent Roarke after her, going into the cleansing room would have provided the perfect opportunity to convey a message.
The water turned off and she raced back to the bed, diving onto the covers and tossing the jewelry to the floor where it landed with a plop on top of her dress. She adjusted the bracelet on her wrist and lay down. Roarke stepped out and searched the dim room.
“Tempest?”
She knew he’d spotted her stretched on her back in the bed when he jerked to a stop. His shoulders loosened and he sauntered toward her, removing his jacket along the way. It dropped carelessly to the floor. The unbuttoned shirt fluttered behind it seconds later.
“Keep going,” she encouraged.
Still wearing his pants, he climbed onto the sheets and lay next to her on his side. That was fine. He’d be naked soon. She raked her nails down the center of his chest and watched as his body tensed. Fascinated, she did it again, drawing a ragged groan from him as he caught her hands in his.
“Too much sensation will end things before we’re ready.”
She’d heard that before and couldn’t help laughing. “We have all night.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth and the pupils of his brown eyes darkened. “Your laugh is one of a kind.”
Oh. She froze and her heart stuttered. The only other person to tell her that had been Coco. Her friend insisted her laugh made others want to join in. Sadness pierced her heart and she had to swallow the sudden lump in her throat.
Roarke lifted a hand and brushed at the strands of hair falling into her eyes. “Are you alright?”
Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. Grief had no place here. She leaned into his caress, absorbed the contact and moaned. Tonight was about pleasure. Only pleasure. “I’ll feel better once you take off those pants and give us what we both want.”
Roarke made a sound of amusement and lowered his head. He was going to kiss her again. Anticipation built. The hand in her hair continued to stroke. His chest pressed into her naked breasts, the rasp of his skin on her swollen nipples, sending tingles outward to her clit.
A soft breath blew against her face. Contact. Finally, she thought, and then his mouth was on hers. She gripped his neck and dropped backward, pulling him over her. His body gave with the motion and he rolled atop her. His heavy weight depressed the bed, but he kept his elbows braced and didn’t crush her beneath him.
She wrapped her legs around his hips and thrust against the hard cock bearing down on her. Roarke rocked back and she whimpered. Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders where she ran them over the taut muscles there.
Firm, solid. She inhaled his masculine scent along with the hint of whatever body cleanser he’d used. Their mouths devoured one another, tongues and lips working for dominance.
Another moan broke free as she arched up, cradling him between her thighs. When he made to move away, she locked her ankles to hold him in place. He raised his head, every breath a pant, eyes glazed. She licked her lips and smoothed the tumble of inky hair from his forehead. “Don’t stop. I need you.”
The smile curving his lips teased and her heart gave another thump. “I’m not going anywhere,essha.”
Sweetheart. She hadn’t expected the endearment. Roarke flowed back over her and pinned her arms down. She stiffened in reflex and raised a knee to kick him, but he deflected her by adjusting his weight and blocking the move.
Nuzzling her nose, he murmured. “Where were we?”
She relaxed and fought back the need to defend herself. She wasn’t a fan of dominance games but he didn’t seem to be pushing in that direction. “You tell me.”
“Don’t move. Lay back and let me enjoy you,” he said, tightening his grasp on her wrists.
The arousal buzzing along her nerves cooled. Could she do that? Truly let go and let him have control for the night?
The thought caused a wave of apprehension to ripple over her. Roarke didn’t miss her reaction and his nostrils flared. He released one of her wrists to grip her thigh and lift her leg higher, exposing her wet center to his hot gaze. “Trust me. You want to trust me, don’t you, Tempest?”
She inhaled sharply. His question beat against her senses, but the use of her code name reminded her that none of this was real.
“You’ll find pleasure with me,” he continued, running a hand up her inner thigh.
Close, so close to her aching clit. What he proposed would be new, a risk. Could she afford to relinquish the seductress role she’d grown comfortable in?
