The Rogue's Fortune

“Thirty seconds?” She laughed, her head clearing with a little space between them. “Does your ego ever deflate?”

His smug grin bloomed. “Not until we’re both completely satisfied.”

He reached for her, but she backed away. “Stop.” She sucked in a couple unsteady breaths and told her heart to slow. “I want to do this.” She took stock of Roark, appraising his raw masculinity. A groan slipped free. “I really do, but you have to give me a second to clear my head. I took an oath, no more bad decisions about men. So, if I’m going to break my promise, I want to do so with my faculties fully engaged.”

Roark stopped looking like a hungry lion and crossed his arms over his chest. Eyes narrowed, he met her gaze. “What does that mean?”

“Just stand there and don’t move until I tell you to.” When his eyebrows rose at her edict, she huffed, “Can you do that?”

He let one brawny shoulder hit the doorjamb and leaned there, watching her in silence. Elizabeth released a breath. Was she really going to do this?

She turned her back on Roark and grasped the first button on her blouse. The room was so silent she could hear her heart pounding. The rhythmic throb soothed her. She was going to do this and it was the right decision. Slowly, moving with deliberate determination, she opened her blouse and let it slip to the floor.

* * *

Roark would have traded the Monet hanging in his mother’s bedroom to know what was running through Elizabeth’s mind as she shimmied out of her skirt. This striptease of hers lacked any hint of sensuality. She was merely a woman taking off her clothes. Each move deliberate, slow, burdened with meaning.

The fact that she couldn’t face him spoke volumes. Yet with each item she loosened and let slip to the floor a little of her tension fell away.

He was mesmerized.

And more than a little turned on.

Muscles played across her shoulders as she reached behind her to unfasten her bra. When had he last taken the time to just enjoy the curve of the female back? To admire a tiny waist. The flare of hips.

She wore lavender bikini panties. The bra that dangled from her fingers, the same matching silk. For the moment she remained immobile, her head down, studying the pool of fabric around her feet. Roark imagined she was torn between the need to neatly fold her clothes and whatever shyness kept her facing away from him.

The room seemed to hold its breath as he waited to see what she’d do next. The bra hit the floor, quickly followed by her silk panties.

Roark’s lungs forgot how to work as she raised her arms and removed a series of pins from her hair. The golden honey mass plummeted downward, obscuring her shoulders and the top of her back. She shook her head and the waves shimmered in the lamplight. Then she stepped toward his bed.

Never had a woman captivated him the way Elizabeth had. Beautiful and smart. Wounded and vulnerable. It was an intoxicating combination.

In the silent room, his breath rasped with the effort to hold completely still. As much as it was killing him, Roark was happy to wait for her to signal she was ready for him.

She fisted her hand in the comforter and inched it back to reveal his sheets. Where she’d been moving slowly and deliberately until now, she quickened her movements and slipped into bed. Seated in the middle of his mattress, the cream-colored sheet tucked beneath her chin, she gave a sharp nod.

“Your turn.”

Her dictatorial tone amused him, but he did as she asked. His fingers felt thick and clumsy as they worked his shirt buttons free. Beneath her steady regard, his already throbbing erection grew even more insistent. The frenzied passion of a few moments earlier had changed into something deeper, more dangerous. By approaching this moment with purpose, Elizabeth couldn’t claim later that she’d been overwhelmed by physical desire. There was more to it than that. And Roark was eager to explore exactly what that was.

Removing his shirt, pants and socks, he paused to gather up her clothes and fold them neatly onto a chair before advancing toward the bed. She looked startled that he’d taken the time when his body so obviously reflected his acute desire for her.

Stopping beside the bed, he slid his underwear down his thighs, enjoying the play of emotions on her face as she got her first glimpse of what he had in store for her. “Ready?” he asked, gathering a handful of the sheet.

Her eyes were the deep blue of twilight as she stared at him. Her throat worked, lips parting, but nothing came out.

“Yes,” she whispered at last.

Before the word was half out, he snapped his arm and tore the sheet from her grasp. A startled noise escaped her as he prowled onto the bed and bore her backward onto the waiting mattress.

“Oh, Roark.” The cry broke from her lips as he gathered her hips in his hands and pulled her snug against him.

He sank into her mouth before she could speak again and ravaged her with long, sensual kisses. Teeth, tongue, lips all came into play as he learned exactly what pleased her. She gave him everything, held nothing in reserve. And her complete surrender unleashed something in him. Before he knew what had happened, he was devouring her in reckless, wild abandon, feeling her match his passion.

Panting, he released her mouth and drew his tongue down her neck. Her large round breasts filled his hands, tight nipples burning his palms. She moaned in breathless delight when his tongue flicked across one sensitive bud. The sound heated the blood speeding through Roark’s veins.

Filling his nostrils with her scent, he savored the taste of her skin and let his fingers skim down her body. Her thighs parted as he skimmed over her mound and gently dipped into her hot flesh. Moisture spilled over his fingers. She was ready for him.