Imogen was of the same mind, it seemed. He had barely whispered his warning before she was scrambling to her feet, reaching out for his hand to curl her fingers tight around his, tugging him towards the door.
‘My room,’ she agreed, and the thickness of her voice, the unevenness of her breathing, told him she would have as much trouble as he would to get up the stairs without ripping clothes off and discarding them along the way.
CHAPTER TEN
THEY MADE IT to the bedroom, but only just. Imogen’s tee-shirt was already ripped at the seams, coming apart in Raoul’s urgent hands. His belt had been tugged free, the button on his jeans snapped open in a struggle that was then abandoned in place of an assault on the fastenings of his shirt which Imogen found easier to wrench out of the way.
Small white buttons flew across the room, to land with a faint sound against the wall. The sight and scent of his skin, the temptation of the bronzed satin before her, was almost too much and she pressed her mouth against the wall of his chest, tasting and tantalising without restraint.
‘Imogen…’ Raoul growled, hard hands clenching in her hair, seemingly undecided whether to hold her there or to pull her head up and away so he could crush his own kisses on her hungry mouth.
The kisses he needed to give her won the battle and she found her head was pulled up, lips crushed beneath his marauding mouth, his invading tongue plunging into the moist softness, setting up a sensual dance as he tasted her intimately.
His hands were urgent at her waist, lifting the torn tee-shirt and wrenching it over her head, pausing only for the time it took to remove it before he claimed her lips again. Imogen had the easier task and with Raoul’s help his shirt was soon shrugged off and tossed to one side on the floor. The white cotton bra shared the same fate, discarded without a second thought, and Imogen could only sigh out her relief and satisfaction as she felt her skin press against his, the whirl of black hair tantalising and teasing her already sensitive nipples.
‘Mon Dieu, but I want you!’ Raoul muttered roughly, pushing his hands up between them to capture and cup the curves of her breasts, teasing the sensitive nipples until she was swooning with desire, swaying against him, only supported by the hands she had flung up around his neck, fingers clenching over his shoulders, digging in to the corded muscle there.
‘Me too.’
It was all she could manage, because to say anything more would require her to separate her lips from his demanding mouth and that was more than she could stand. Stinging pulses of desire were shooting through her, all the way from her nipples down to where the hot moisture of need gathered between her thighs. She was blind, deaf and dumb to anything but Raoul and the needs he was waking in her, the pleasures she knew were waiting for her, if she could just…
‘These have to go.’
Sensing her needs, Raoul had already unzipped her jeans, tossing her down on the bed with an impatience that spoke of the hunger that was building up inside him too, threatening to break through the dam of restraint he had tried to impose on his actions.
And that was fine with Imogen. Patience and restraint were not what she wanted from him. Not here. Not now. Almost frantically she wriggled herself free of the clinging clothing, knowing a hot rush of relief and anticipation as Raoul’s demanding hands exposed her to his hungry gaze, the faint wash of cooler air an almost unbearable addition to the rush of sensations.
‘You too.’
Their hands met and clashed as both of them tried to rid him of what little was left of his clothing, and a moment later they were back down on the bed together. Imogen’s arms went up around his neck as she pulled him down to cover her, giving herself up to the delicious sensation of having his hard body over hers. His hot skin scorched her, his hair-roughened legs came between hers, nudging her limbs apart, exposing her to him. All the time his mouth was at her breasts, licking, suckling, nipping sharply, until she arched high against him, letting out a high, keening cry of delight and need.
Drifting, lost on a heated sea of sensation, she felt his fingers at her moist core, brushing aside the damp curls, stroking just where she needed him most. It was too much, though, and she caught his hands in hers, demanding more.