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Passion glazed his eyes. When at last he was freed of his clothing, he stretched out beside her and gently pushed a satiny strap off her shoulder. The result was that one of her breasts was bared to him. He studied the delicious, ripe mound, before cupping its swollen weight with his palm.
“I love you,” he whispered again, lowering his head and taking the taut nipple into his mouth. His tongue circled the straining dark peak, moistening and teasing the ripe bud until Ashley moaned in bittersweet ecstasy.
At last he placed his lips around her breast and began to suckle, drawing out the sweetness within her until she thought she would go mad with desire. She cradled his head in her hands, holding him closer, wishing that she could offer more to him than just her body.
When Trevor finally lifted his head to gaze into her eyes, Ashley’s heart felt like a bird trapped in a gilded cage as it fluttered wildly against the prison of her ribs. The shadowed corners of the room seemed distant. All she could see were the bold features of Trevor’s face as he slowly lifted her camisole over her head.
After discarding the unwanted garment, his fingers trailed slowly up her stockinged legs.
“Trevor . . . please,” she murmured tremulously before feeling him pulling her skirt and underthings down her hips. Soon she was lying naked with him.
Perspiration dampened his torso and gleamed like oil in the fire glow. He kissed her softly on the lips and rubbed his body against hers, all the while watching for the subtle changes in her expression.
“I want you,” she whispered to the unspoken questions in his knowing eyes.
“That’s not enough.”
She swallowed the hot lump in her throat, understanding the words he yearned to hear. A coaxing hand rubbed against her breast in gentle circles, breaking her concentration and causing the liquid fire within her to pulse through her veins.
She was incapable of thinking of anything but this man lying atop her, teasing her gently by rubbing his rigid length over the soft slopes of her body.
“I love you, Trevor,” she said again, her heartbeat echoing in the dark room. “I always have.”
A sheen of perspiration covered her body and trickled between her breasts. Slowly, Trevor’s head lowered to catch the salty droplet with his tongue. “And I love you, Ashley. . . .” His head lifted and his eyes held hers with all the passion of eight lost years. “I never stopped.”
With his traitorous admission, he closed his eyes and gently forced her knees apart, surrendering at last to the fire in his loins and the seduction in Ashley’s sea-green eyes. He entered her slowly, but with a determined thrust that claimed her as his own. For too many years he had ached for another man’s woman, and in the rush of heat building within him, he attempted to expunge forever the mark of Richard Jennings from Ashley’s soul. She was his woman now and forever. If he’d learned anything in the past few weeks it was that nothing else in lif
e was worth a damn.
Trevor’s torment was evident in the strain on his face and the unleashed power of his lovemaking. Never had their coupling been more bittersweet than now, and Ashley gave herself to the authority of his touch. The sweet fury within her began to rage, hotter and hotter, demanding release until, at last, she convulsed in a passion born of years of denial.
“Trevor,” she cried as she felt his answering shudder, and his weight fell against her. Tears glistened in her eyes and when his breathing slowed, he rolled off her before tenderly cradling her head against his shoulder.
“Nothing will ever come between us again,” he vowed, his voice rough with emotion and his breath ruffling her hair.
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because for the first time in weeks, I feel like the master of my own destiny.” Softly he kissed the tears from her eyes and fought against his own. “You and I, lady, we’re going to get through this and we’re going to get through it together.”
“If only I could believe—”
“Believe.”
She wrapped her arms securely around the man she loved, to drown in the scents mingling in the room—the smell of burning wood, the gentle tang of sweat and the muskiness of stale Scotch.
Tenderly he smoothed her hair away from her face. “I was afraid that you would never come here,” he stated, blue eyes regarding her solemnly.
“But I called—”
“And no one answered.”
“I left word at the campaign headquarters. The receptionist said you’d call me back.”
Trevor stiffened beside her. “When?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly. “I’ve avoided that place,” he admitted, “and I didn’t answer the phone when I was here.”
