Tell Me Your Secrets...

My inner Alice was shouting yes. My saner self, the part that always reminded me of the trouble I usually got into when I gave in to impulse, remained silent.

Still he hesitated as if he needed some sign from me. “Yes or no?”

This was wrong. It had to be. But I didn’t care. I’d never felt this way before. Maybe I never would again. “Yes.”

It was triumph now that I saw in his eyes. Then he lifted me off the counter and carried me through the archway and into the bedroom. He laid me on the bed, and then he positioned himself on top of me. My legs parted for him, and once he’d settled between them, he rocked against me. I arched up or tried to. But I was trapped beneath him. His legs were hard between mine, and I could feel the hardest part of him—a solid ridge of granite—pressing against me through way too many layers of clothes.

Then he levered himself off me, and settling himself beside me, he took my wrists in one hand and pinned them above my head.

I started to protest, but he countered by kissing me again. My head began to spin. He still held my hands above my head, and with his foot, he’d pinned one of my ankles to the bed. With his free hand he began to unbutton my blouse, slowly, tantalizingly. Each sensation was so intense—the heat of his body beside me, the dark, rich taste of him and the slow movement of those fingers as they released one button after another. Each time they slipped beneath the silk and brushed my skin I trembled. All the while he feasted on my mouth, exploring every part of it in slow strokes of his tongue as if there was some flavor there he hadn’t yet sampled.

Sloan tugged the blouse free of my slacks and pushed it aside. Then he raised his head and looked down at what he’d uncovered. “Pretty,” he murmured in a husky voice as he ran the palm of his hand over my breast. Through my thin bra of silk and lace, I felt the heat of his touch like a little electric shock. I did my best to arch into his palm.

“I’ve been wanting to touch you, really touch you.” He paused to move his hand lower until it rested flat on my stomach. “Ever since you appeared out of nowhere on that bluff.” He undid the button of my riding pants and drew the zipper down slowly. The sound it made as it opened was incredibly erotic.

“Your skin is so soft. Like rainwater.” He pressed his hand against my stomach and lowering his head, he covered my breast with his mouth. Ever so slowly, he began to stroke my nipple with his tongue. The moist heat of his mouth combined with the friction of the silk against my skin had me trying to arch upward, reaching for more….

I whimpered something, and as if he had been waiting for that sound, he moved his hand lower on my stomach, sliding his fingers beneath my panties and then between my legs until he reached the spot that felt so empty. I stopped breathing then, trapped between exquisite pleasure and the painful ache that was building inside of me.

I tried to move and found that I was trapped physically, too. My hands were still pinned above my head, my foot still held captive by his. All I could manage to do was wiggle my hips, but it wasn’t enough.

“Please.” My voice was barely a thread of sound, and just as I thought I might die of wanting, he drew my nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard at the same moment that he pushed two fingers into me.

“Sloan,” I cried out.

He drew his fingers out and pushed them in, drew out, pushed in, matching the rhythm of his hand to the movement of his mouth as he suckled at my breast. I was burning, melting, searching….

And then suddenly he withdrew from me. The sense of loss was so acute that for a moment, I couldn’t say anything. Even though he’d released my hands and my foot, I couldn’t move. I watched him rise from the bed and begin to take off his jeans. My gaze followed the dark denim as it slid down those long muscled legs. Beneath them he wore white Jockey briefs, and I could see the evidence of his arousal pushing at the fabric. When the underwear followed the path of the jeans, I finally saw what I’d only felt before. My mouth went dry as dust. He was so big—not just where my eyes were currently glued, but all over. His chest was wide, the bronze skin sprinkled with dark hair, and he had the shoulders of a linebacker. I had never wanted anyone the way I wanted him.

“Hurry,” I said. At least that’s what I tried to say. The sound that came out was more like a moan.

And he didn’t hurry at all. At least not to the bed. Instead, he moved to the bedside table, opened the drawer and took out a condom. I’d thought the sound of my zipper opening was erotic, but the rip of that foil packet topped it. When he’d fully sheathed himself, I sat up and said, “Hurry.”

He didn’t move. He simply stood there, looking down at me. My skin had chilled when he’d moved away so abruptly, but now it began to heat again.

“You have too many clothes on,” he said.

Glancing down, I realized that I was still mostly clothed. I’d been so mesmerized watching him strip that I’d completely forgotten.

“Take them off for me.” His voice was husky, but I found the thread of command in his voice arousing. And he was driving me mad. He’d been teasing and tormenting me, taking me right to the brink and then withdrawing. Maybe it was time I gave as good as I was getting.

Raising my eyes to meet his, I deliberately started with my boots. I dropped one and then the other over the side of the bed. I took my socks off next, drawing out the process as long as I could. His eyes narrowed and I could hear the harsh sound of his breathing in the room. I turned my attention to my bra next. It was a good thing that he’d unbuttoned my blouse because my fingers were growing numb. Then lying back down, I lifted my hips off of the bed and began to wiggle out of my riding breeches.

I’d only managed to get them halfway down my legs when he joined me on the bed and dragged them off the rest of the way. Then Sloan knelt between my legs and tore away the lace that still separated us. Power streamed through me as he gripped my hips and positioned himself over me. But then once again, he paused.

I wrapped arms and legs around him. “Dammit, Sloan. Do it.”

He framed my face with his hands. “Do what?”

“Come inside me. I want you inside right now.”

He drove into me, and I went off like a rocket. The orgasm ripped through me so fast and so hard that I think I lost consciousness for a moment. The next thing I knew, my arms had dropped away from him and so had my legs. They felt like limp noodles. But Sloan was still on top of me, still filling me.

I opened my eyes to find him regarding me in that intent way he had. I read triumph and satisfaction in his eyes. And something. A question?

He withdrew and pushed into me again. To my astonishment my knees came up and my arms wrapped themselves around him.

“Hold on,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It’s going to be a rough ride.”

It was. And incredibly I was ready for it. As he drove into me again and again, each stroke built in speed and intensity. My world narrowed to this man, the heat and hardness of his body, his hands, and the movement of him inside of me. I felt another climax building, more slowly this time, but as we raced toward it together, I felt parts of myself slipping away.

“Come with me.” His voice was harsh in my ear. “Now.”

I had no choice. When the first wild spasm tore through me, I cried out. But it didn’t end there. He showed me more, driving me up again until I knew only that searing heat. And him. His voice joined mine as I gave myself to him and we flew over that last peak together.

SLOAN CAME BACK to awareness slowly. He couldn’t think. All he knew were sensations. His face was buried in Red’s hair, his body pressing hers into the mattress. His heart was racing, his breath coming in gasps.

And he was trembling. That was a first. A little sliver of fear moved through him. What in the world was she doing to him? Still dazed, he raised his head and studied her. Her eyes were half-closed, her skin still flushed from passion.

He’d wondered where it would lead when he made love to her. But he hadn’t expected this…this loss of self. How could he? How could a man anticipate something he’d never experienced before? Something he was already wanting to experience again.

Incredibly, he felt a fresh wave of desire ripple through him. How could she do this to him—this woman who looked so much like Cameron. But who wasn’t Cameron.

“Who the hell are you?”

14

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?”

The question, especially the not-so-friendly tone of it, blew some of the fuzz out of my brain. I opened my mouth, not at all sure what was going to come out, but Sloan pressed a finger against my lips to silence me.

“Don’t even think of lying, Red. I know that you’re not Cameron McKenzie.”

Okay, the jig was up. There was always the possibility that someone would see through my impersonation. But I couldn’t think of a worse spot to be in—lying naked beneath the man who’d just unmasked me. Worse than that, I was lying naked beneath a man I’d just had mind-blowing sex with. A man that I incredibly wanted again, so my brain was still deep in the fuzzy zone. Otherwise, I might have thought up something. Anything.

“What’s your name?”

“Brooke Ashby.”

“Brooke Ashby.” He said the name as if he were testing it on his tongue. “I can check it out.”