dappled with sunlight. He wanted fiercely to see that, to experience the electric pleasure promised by her long lithe legs and high breasts. He wanted her writhing under him, as she struggled to take all of him, and then he wanted to watch her face transform with ecstasy when the limits of their control were shattered.
Her gaze met his, and she reacted with an involuntary shiver. For although he didn’t come any nearer, she felt heat simply from his look. She could read his erotic thoughts as surely as if he’d spoken, and suddenly realized that hers were probably just as visible to him. The silence in the room tautened, and Madeline could feel her pulse throbbing. She watched him go over to the bed and sit on the edge, tug his boots and socks off, and leave them on the floor in what she was sure was uncustomary disorder.
“Maddy.” His voice was low. “Come here to me.”
Her feet moved to obey without conscious decision. When she was standing in front of him, he spread his knees and brought her closer, between them. His face was level with her breasts and he used her position to nuzzle them, first one then the other. Next he rose, and his body rubbed hers in the ascent. He drew her hands to his shirt and whispered huskily, “Undress me.” And again she obeyed.
Her eyes watched the progress of her fingers in fascination. First one button was undone. Then two. She caught her breath at her first glimpse of his bare chest, fingers faltering in their task as she took in the sheer male beauty of him. Cruz obligingly finished for her, stripping off the shirt and dropping it to the floor.
His torso looked as if it had been sculpted by an artistic hand, its bronze hue gleaming invitingly. Her hands rose to touch him, as if she couldn’t help herself. He was firmly muscled, defined pectoral muscles neatly bisecting his chest. The hard muscles were repeated along his rib cage and stomach. He had no chest hair, as if nature hadn’t bothered to further adorn perfection. There was only an enticing silky black ribbon of hair arrowing from his navel and disappearing into the waistband of his jeans.
Cruz’s breath hissed out of his teeth at the first tentative touch of her hands on him. The long-awaited contact ignited his hunger again, at a time when be most needed all his control. After only seconds of her caresses his own hands moved swiftly, grasping the hem of her sweater and bringing it upward, over her head. He let it drop to the floor and she shrugged out of the unhooked bra.
His hands cupped her breasts, which were beaded with arousal. He toyed with the nipples, rolling them gently in his fingers until an involuntary sound came from her throat. Then, with the calm masculine assurance that was so much a part of him, he bent to take one nipple into his mouth.
The ground fell away from Madeline’s feet at the hot, wet suction on her breast, which seemed unbearably sensitive. She gasped as she felt his teeth lightly scrape her nipple, before he soothed it with his tongue. His thumb made lazy circles around its twin, causing it to draw even tighter before he switched his attention to it. Her knees threatened to buckle and she leaned heavily into him. Cruz took that opportunity to lower her to the bed, stripping the black leggings, shoes and socks off her in the same movement.
She swallowed hard. Lying in the middle of his bed wearing nothing but a scrap of panties made her feel intensely feminine and utterly vulnerable. The emotions were heightened by the sight of him, still partially dressed, studying her, his eyes at half-mast. She remembered suddenly the first time she’d seen him. He’d reminded her of a pirate then, and he brought the same vivid image to her mind at this moment. His earring seemed so much a part of him that she rarely noticed it anymore, but she did now. It was a diamond chip and, coupled with his broad bare chest, it gave him a half-civilized, untamed look. She watched, enrapt, as his hands went slowly to his jeans, unfastening them and pushing them down his firm flanks Clad only in black low-riding briefs, he seemed quintessentially male, very much the conquering warrior.
Cruz stood still, allowing himself precious moments to absorb the gut-wrenching pleasure of seeing her lying in his bed. The frothy piece of lace she still wore matched the bra she’d just discarded, and he wondered at the contrast she made. She hid her penchant for silky bits of lingerie beneath primly tailored suits and jackets, just as she hid her real self behind a mask of cool professionalism. He’d wanted to strip that outer layer away, to find out if the woman beneath could possibly match the one he’d imagined, and now he’d found that she did that, and more.
With his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, he disposed of them as casually as he had the jeans and Madeline felt her breath quite literally stop. His nakedness was almost overwhelming, the strength of his sexuality no longer hidden. His nudity was tempting, though. Her hands itched to race over that hard body even as she quaked a little in the face of its strength.
Cruz thought he read nervousness creeping into her eyes, and he joined her on the bed. “Ah, Maddy,” he whispered in her ear as his arms reached for her. “You don’t know how many times I’ve pictured you here. Just like this.”
“You have?” she murmured, a pleased little smile teasing her lips.
“Many times,” he affirmed, his hands skating along her spine. She turned to face him and his soothing touch became more sure. His hands went over her with a shattering purpose, no longer seeking to calm her uncertainty, but to intensify her arousal. “I’ve dreamed of you lying next to me like this. Of spreading your legs, like this.” One hard knee parted hers and pressed gently against her femininity. She gasped helplessly. His voice dropped even lower, until it was almost a rumble. “But nothing I could imagine prepared me for the pleasure of seeing you like this. Touching you like this.”
One hand imitated his words by dropping to her panties and pushing them carelessly down her legs. It came back up to cup the fleecy red delta between her thighs. She quivered in response, but he sealed her mouth with his, kissing her with lazy purpose. When he did nothing more for a time, she relaxed enough to open her mouth to him, relishing his taste when his tongue swept in. Her hands clasped his wide shoulders but refused to linger there. They engaged in an exploration of their own, smoothing over the bronzed skin, touching his nipples, making him shudder.
She learned his body. She found that he loved having his chest stroked, that his nipples were as sensitive as her own. When her hands wandered downward she skirted his heavy arousal shyly, but he pushed forward urgently, and she understood the demand. Her fingers closed around him and his breath hissed out between clenched teeth. He was a total sensualist, completely without modesty or shyness. He allowed her none, either. If she’d been able to think, she would have been shocked at the way their bodies moved together on the bed, flickering in the fading sunlight. She would have been surprised at the way she was acting, at her need to touch him, all of him. Nothing in her adult life had prepared her for a man who demanded that she hold nothing back, who seemed to want only that she let her inhibitions loose and give rise to a sensual side of her nature that she’d kept firmly tucked away.
Nothing could be hidden from him; he didn’t allow pretense. His hands were teasing, insistent and arousing by turn. His mouth delighted in tasting her, pressing kisses to velvet skin, nipping sharply, then soothing the area with his tongue. He lay half over her once, smoothing his hand over her soft skin, and watched the movement with savage pleasure, enjoying the sight of his darker skin against hers, so much lighter. She was the color of rich cream all over, and devoid of the delicate sprinkling of freckles that patterned most redheads.
His touch became more urgent, his mouth increasingly demanding. Her own exploration was thwarted by her reaction to him. His lips went to her neck and below. He cupped both breasts in his hands, teasing the nipples with his thumbs before lowering his head to suckle first one, then the other. Her hands clenched on his back, her hips rolling sinuously. Then one of his hands snaked down to claim her femininity, parting the dewy folds and teasing the slick bud he found there.
Her thighs relaxed unconsciously, allowing him access, an opportunity he immediately took advantage of. He penetrated her with one long finger, and her hips bucked. A gasp broke from her throat as he kept up the sensual assault, driving her mad with his mouth on her nipples, his devilish fingers trailing magic in their wake.
“Cruz,” she murmured brokenly, her hands moving restlessly over his shoulders and then to his hair. Her fingers threaded through the dark, thick strands, ungentle in her restless quest for satisfaction. “Please.”
He closed his eyes tightly at her breathless voice. He didn’t want this to end. He wanted to race his hands over her, to slowly savor her. He wanted to taste her everywhere, slowly, lingeringly. He wanted to take her with a sudden burst of lust that would put an end to their torment. But she was nearing the fever pitch of arousal; he could feel it in her writhing movements beneath him, in the moist tight silkiness he was exploring. His own body was taking the choice from him. He could feel himself grow tight and heavy, signaling how close he was to exploding.
He rolled away for a second to reach for the nightstand. He resented bitterly the need for anything to come between them, even as he protected her. Moving above her, he parted her legs for his large body, and the tip of his staff nudged her softness. Her legs came up eagerly, encircling his waist, and he pushed fully into her tight sheath
