Private Pleasures

a prince to take her away from the drudgery of everyday life. Any man who paid her the least bit of attention after my father died became her newest knight in shining armor, whether he wanted to be or not. My mother wouldn't know love if it bit her in the ass!'

Mariah calmly stepped out of her sling-back pumps. 'Then what is your perception of love?'

He moved to the cabin's small wet bar, grabbed a half-empty bottle of scotch and poured himself a healthy portion. 'You know how I feel about love.' He lifted the drink to his lips.

She intercepted the glass before he could taste a drop and set the liquor out of reach. He scowled darkly, but she merely smiled. They'd come too far for her to let him shut her out now, or for him to find comfort in a bottle when she was more than willing to comfort him. Physically and emotionally.

'Humor me,' she said, tugging on the knot of the tie he'd bought for dinner until the strip of silk loosened. 'If you believed in love, which we both know you don't, what do you imagine that emotion would encompass?'

He jammed his hands on his hips and glowered at her. 'I don't want to get all philosophical about this, Mariah.'

'Okay,' she said easily, and tossed his new tie somewhere over her right shoulder. She undid the first three buttons on his shirt, deciding to broach things in a less threatening way. 'Then tell me, what is your opinion of our relationship?'

His gaze narrowed sharply, and he stiffened. 'How do you mean?'

'After nine months, why are we still together?' she asked softly. 'What is it that attracts you to me and has made our relationship last this long?'

'Mariah-'

Curling an arm around his neck, she rubbed seductively against him, like a cat looking for some attention. 'It must be a purely physical thing between us then,' she all but purred.

His gaze darkened and he visibly clenched his teeth. Oh, he was attracted on a physical level all right, and getting more aroused with every slow caress of her body along his. 'You know that's not the only thing that attracts me to you.'

She feigned a pout. 'How do I know anything if you won't tell me?'

Grey blew out a stream of breath, unable to think when Mariah was plastered against him so provocatively. Planting his hands firmly on her waist, he stopped the gyrating of her hips. As he stared into soft blue eyes hazy with desire, he realized that he'd never told her just how much she meant to him. Maybe it was something he needed to say, and something she needed to hear.

'I'll make it real simple for you,' she said with a slow slide of her tongue across her bottom lip. 'What words would you use to describe our relationship?'

He closed his eyes, the words she was asking for jumbling in his mind. He sorted them out, then let his lashes drift open, a peaceful feeling curling through him. Brushing his knuckles along her soft cheek, he gave her the words she sought. 'Understanding, caring, respect, trust-' he let a wolfish grin lift his lips '-and a whole lot of lust.'

She laughed joyfully. 'You love me.'

'I didn't say that,' he said, his tone cautious.

She smiled knowingly. Triumphantly. 'Oh, Grey, you didn't have to. You just described the exact way I feel about you. Those emotions are love.'

He wanted to deny her claim, but found he couldn't. Or maybe he didn't want to. Damn. He didn't know anymore.

She grasped his hand and led him back to the rug in front of the fireplace, where a small fire crackled and sent out waves of toasty heat. She left him standing there to turn off the lamp. The soft, warm glow of firelight illuminated the curves of her body wrapped in cashmere and shone off the sassy length of her hair.

Their eyes locked, and he eased out a strangled breath. His hands curled into fists at his side. The smile on her lips was sultry and teasing; the look in her eyes seared his soul. He was bewitched, transfixed and so full of strange emotions he didn't understand. All he understood was the fierce ache to touch her, to ease her to the floor and let his hands and lips worship every inch of her.

Oh, so leisurely, she lifted her hands and pulled down the shoulders of her dress, revealing pale, firm breasts, their centers dark, and her nipples tight. The silky soft material slid down her arms and caught on the swell of her hips. With a slow, provocative shimmy the garment slithered down her long legs and pooled around her feet, leaving her scantily clad in pink lace panties sheerer than a sigh, and those thigh-high opaque stockings he'd discovered earlier, a delicate lace band holding them securely in place.

His heart pounded in his chest and his blood rushed through his veins like liquid fire. Breathing became impossible. He was about to have a heart attack, he was sure.

'Mariah?' Her name escaped on a tight croak. 'What about your deal?'

'I'm reneging.' She started toward him, her smile as seductive as the sway of her hips. 'I'm going to show you what love is, just in case you have any lingering doubts in that mind of yours.'

All doubts fled the minute her hands landed on his chest and smoothed aside the open vee of his shirt until it tightened around his biceps. He attempted to reach for her, heard the rip of material as he stretched his arms, and realized that she'd effectively turned the tables on him. He couldn't reach her.

He caught the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes seconds before she leaned into him, nuzzling her mouth against his neck. He groaned, his body shuddering as her tongue tasted and her teeth scraped along his throat. Her palms were cool against his heated flesh, seeking, searching and finding his nipples, then lower, skimming along the taut flesh of his belly. The buttons on his shirt hindered her exploration, and she let out a frustrated sound. Then, to his dazed amazement, she grabbed the sides of his shirt and yanked, sending the buttons flying across the room.

He stared, momentarily speechless. Damn. Mariah knew how to please him well and good in bed, turning him on with her sensual responses and her eagerness to discover different variations of making love. She'd initiated sex plenty of times, but he couldn't recall her ever being so assertive, so sexually persuasive in her pursuit of what she wanted.

And what she wanted was his love.

He shook his head, confusion swirling with the drugging lure of desire. 'Mariah, baby…'

She gently pushed him backward, until his shoulders pressed against the wall beside the hearth. Before he could issue another word her mouth covered his and she gave him the silkiest, sexiest French kiss he'd ever tasted. Denying his need for her became a distant thought.

Shrugging out of his shirt, he pulled her body tight against his and ran his hands over whatever bare, warm flesh he could. He came up against the barrier of her panties and growled impatiently, though his fingers managed to find their way under the elastic band and skim over a soft thatch of damp curls.

She broke their kiss and pushed away his hands, her breathing ragged. 'Not yet, Grey. I'm not through with you.'

'Not through?' The question wheezed out of him. What else did she intend to do to him?

She shook her head and smiled softly. 'I don't think you quite understand just how much I love you. I want to give you all the love I feel for you in my heart. I want to give you all the love you've never had.'

And in that moment, he wanted it, too.

'Let me love you.' She placed lingering kisses along his shoulder and lower, where her tongue swirled around his nipple. She whispered in the shadowed room, 'You taste so good,' before sinking to her knees in front of him.

His breath left him in a tight whoosh of air, deflating his lungs. She pressed her mouth to the taut muscles rippling in his belly, then tossed her head back and held his gaze while she worked his belt loose and lowered his zipper. She pulled his slacks and briefs down, and he sprang free, fully, painfully erect. She swept the garments off, along with his shoes and socks, and tossed them aside, leaving him completely naked and more restlessly inflamed than he'd ever been before.

Her hands skimmed up his tense thighs and over his hips, her thumbs grazing that jutting, masculine part of him that wanted her touch more than he wanted his next breath.

His wish became reality. Her fingers circled his swollen shaft and stroked him. Closing his eyes, he tangled his fingers in her silky hair, groaning at the pleasure consuming him.