Hot to the Touch

“I see.” Her brow furrowed, but her eyes sparked excitement that gave him hope. “So I have no say in this whatsoever?”

“None.”

She folded her arms across her chest. He all but held his breath.

“It’s only fair to let me know what your evil plans are.”

Troy made his smile as evil as he could given that triumphant joy was his emotion of the moment. “I’m going to feed you potato chips until you beg for mercy.”

“Um.” Darcy frowned in mock confusion. “That’s supposed to be a threat?”

“Then—” he advanced menacingly, keeping his voice a low, dark drawl “—I’m going to carry you upstairs and make love to you until you’re unable to walk.”

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head in bewilderment. “I’m not understanding. When does the evil part kick in?”

He swooped forward, caught her lips with his. She responded, clutching his shoulders, pressing her body close.

“I may be a lame villain, but I can tell you if you keep pushing against me like that, you don’t get the potato chips until later.”

“Ooh.” Her voice was low and throaty. “That is evil.”

“Come.” He took her hand and started for the stairs before she could change her mind.

“Wait, no. Excuse me.” She pulled her hand away; his heart skipped. “I believe the deal was that you would carry me.”

He groaned in mock dismay, then lunged and picked her up in an undignified fireman’s carry, her head dangling down his back. “Okay, okay.”

“This…is not…what I had in…mind.” She giggled through her protest; he’d never heard a sweeter sound.

“No?” He pretended to stagger on the stairs, making her squeal. One of her shoes clattered to the floor.

“No! I was thinking Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind.”

“Rhett who? Gone with the what? Is that some chick flick?” He reached the top of the stairs, turned toward his room, kicked open the door and laid her on his bed with just enough force to make it feel as if he’d dumped her there à la Rhett.

She struggled to sit up, but he was there first, covering her body with his, finding her mouth, tasting it in the darkness of his room. Her giggles stopped abruptly; she opened to him, legs tangling with his. Her other shoe dropped off the bed. Even the thought of her bare feet excited him.

He lifted off her, determined this time that passion wouldn’t carry them away, that they’d be able to take it slow, make their lovemaking last. Her skirt came down leisurely; its elastic waistband saved him tackling complicated fastenings. His eyes had adjusted enough to see her legs as soft cream against his hunter-green bedspread, which looked black in the dim light spilling in from the hallway. He eased down her panties, brushing his hand across the dark hair between her legs.

Her heaven might be full of potato chips. His was full of Darcy.

She lifted to sitting and took off her shirt while he did the same, then he sat transfixed while she unhooked her bra, hesitating for a delicious moment before she let it slide off, making him groan with pleasure.

“Your breasts are so beautiful,” he whispered. Her nipples called to him, dark small circles on the pale perfection of her skin. He took one into his mouth, loving her quick intake of breath, fumbling to lower his jeans, reluctantly breaking his hold to kick those and his underwear off the bed so he could return to worship, sucking her neglected other nipple, fondling the still-moist first one with eager fingers.

“You are so beautiful, Darcy. So sexy.” He felt her stiffen, told himself to hold back, not overwhelm her, saying phrases she’d probably heard many times from other men. Like the woman in the Arabian Nights story, instinct told him he had to offer something she hadn’t had before if he wanted a chance to get into her heart. “You drive me wild. I’m like a raging…rhinoceros.”

Her stiffness relaxed. “Say what?”

“While you, you are my sensual, stunning rhinocerosess.”

She giggled. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never been called that before.”

“So you see…I’m not like other men you’ve known.”