He struggled for control against his raging need. He brushed his lips across one rosy peak. Her breath hitched. Delicately, he took her into his mouth, savoring her flavor. Salt. Apples. Diana.
She gave a long guttural moan and arched. He drew harder until she started to shake.
He’d made love to hundreds of women, seeking enjoyment, brief forgetfulness, mutual pleasure. He always treated his affairs lightly, like a game.
As he tongued the sweet tip of Diana’s breast and felt her tremble with delight, he recognized this time, he mightn’t be lucky enough to escape with a shrug and a farewell kiss. Something about this woman penetrated more profoundly than mere appetite.
Her beauty stole his breath. Her wild responsiveness excited him. Her secrets intrigued him.
None of that explained why his heart rose in her presence. His life had been devoid of joy, but joy was the closest he could come to describing this feeling.
The niggling problem drifted away as she squirmed under his mouth. She tasted sweeter than sin. She was so sensitive, he suspected he could make her come just by touching her breasts.
He was more selfish than that, at least this time.
Still kissing her breast, he trailed one hand down the silky plain of her stomach and tangled his fingers in the soft curls. She bucked and smothered a shocked sound.
She vibrated to his touch like a bell.
He dipped between her legs. She was gloriously wet. He stroked her center, feeling the swollen flesh. A deeper pressure and she cried out and tautened. Her fingers clenched in his hair. The sting added to the other dizzying sensations rocketing through him.
Anticipation. Enjoyment of her enjoyment. Need.
He slipped his drenched fingers from between her thighs and gripped her hips. If he didn’t taste her there, he’d go mad.
With nipping kisses, he worked his way over her quivering belly to the top of her thighs. “Open for me, Diana.”
Her legs remained chastely closed. She lowered a shaking hand to hide her mound.
He lifted his head and looked up her lavish body to where she stared at him in dark consternation. A consternation that contrasted sharply with the full, red dampness of her mouth and the flush of passion on her cheeks.
She’d lifted herself on her elbows and he felt her bristling tension. Only seconds ago, she’d been all melting surrender.
“You can’t want to do that.” Her voice quivered with horror.
He couldn’t help himself. He laughed. And was rewarded when her eyes flashed brilliant silver annoyance.
“Do what?” he asked with faux innocence. He loved teasing her.
“You know.” She tried to wriggle free until he tightened his grip. “That.”
“Has someone kissed your…” With most of his lovers, jaded, sophisticated creatures all, he’d use the Anglo-Saxon profanity. Something about Diana curbed his tongue. “Have you been kissed like this before?”
She shook her head with an emphasis that made him hide a smile. “Of course not. It’s bizarre. I can’t imagine you enjoy it.”
“Perhaps the purpose is for you to enjoy it.”
Her color rose, and she tried again to escape. Foolish woman. Didn’t she know she might have cast the lures, but he’d shut the trap? He had no intention of letting her go anywhere.
“I wouldn’t enjoy it,” she said with complete certainty. “Don’t put yourself to any trouble on my behalf.”
He laughed again. She was delightful. And challenging. He’d have her screaming her release with his head between her legs before too much longer.
“Believe me, Diana, it’s no trouble.”
She reached down to cup his jaw. Strange that the simple gesture contained more significance than anything else they’d yet done together.
Passion had long been part of his life. Tenderness was notably absent.