She stared at him through steady, honest eyes. "Im loving you. "
Before he could respond, she moved down. The blankets bunched up behind her, peeling away from him until more and more of his naked body lay exposed. Cool air breezed across his skin.
Her head slipped under the blankets.
"Oh, Jesus . . . "
The warm tip of her tongue traced the hard line of his pelvic bone, left a searing streak of fire. Goose bumps studded his trembling flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Oh, God . . .
She trailed moist, openmouthed kisses along his hipbone. Her movements were slow and leisurely, tasting, exploring, touching. Desire pulsed through him, made him tremble and ache and need. Never in his life had he felt this way . . . desperate and out of control.
He grabbed hold of her shoulders and yanked her up the long, hard length of his body. A tiny mewl of sur prise slipped from her lips. It was the only sound she made before his mouth came down on hers.
He kissed her long and hard, with all the pent-up passion of a man whod had sex a thousand times but never once in his life made love. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, tasting the exquisite sweetness that was hers alone.
She kissed him with abandon. Her tongue twined with his, explored the moist cavern of his mouth, traced his teeth. Her arms curled around his neck, her breasts pressed against his chest.
Everywhere they touched, there was fire. Their skin burned together, fused. Mad Dog had never wanted a woman more in his life. He wanted her inside him, wanted to feel the very essence of her body melting into his.
He fumbled desperately with the tiny buttons of her chemise, trying to force his shaking fingers to function. Frustration burst past his lips in a growl. He cursed, wanting to rip the flimsy fabric from her body. She laughed shakily and drew back.
"Where are you going?" He winced at the breathless-ness of his own voice.
"Id rather take it off than have you rip it off," she answered in a voice that matched his own. With nimble, practiced fingers, she unbuttoned the lacy chemise and shrugged out of it. The ivory fabric slid down her silky arms, pulled gently away from her small, pink-tipped breasts.
He moaned at the sight of her. Need twisted his in-sides into a hard, throbbing knot.
Hed never really understood the full impact of that word before; it had always been synonymous with simple desire, but now he saw the truth. There was nothing simple about it.
He needed Marian, needed her in this moment more than hed ever needed anyone in his life. And not just her body—though he wanted her with a desire that bordered on desperation. He needed her smile, her laughter, her ability to care. That part of her that couldnt say good-bye to the people she loved.
She let her gaze move away from his. Slowly, with a seductiveness she couldnt possibly understand, she began to untie her drawers. The creamy linen slid down the trim, concave curve of her hip. A shadow of curly brown hair peeked out from the sagging, beribboned waistband.
"Jesus, Marian," he whispered, "youre beautiful. "
She eased the undergarments from her body and threw them behind her. The chemise landed half-on, half-off the dresser; the pants draped across the bedpost like a flag of surrender.
"Come here," he breathed, his gaze locked on hers.
She shook her head. Her long hair brushed against her nipples, hardening the pink tips.
"But—"
She leaned down, pressed a finger to his lips. "Shhh . . . "
Slowly, she drew back the heavy coverlet and exposed his naked body. He lay there, legs partially spread, hands clenched at his sides, breathing heavily. Her hot, pointed gaze studied him, moved leisurely to the hardened shaft of his desire. He couldnt move, his body felt weighted down. His breath came in fast, choppy bursts that sounded like cannon-bursts in his ears. He licked his lips and tried to swallow, but he couldnt. He lay stiff and unmoving, feeling exposed, vulnerable, out of control.
And painfully aroused.
She leaned toward him, placed her hands on his chest. Sweaty dampness seeped from her flattened palms and scalded his skin.
She gave him a slow, enigmatic smile . . . and straddled him.
He shuddered hard and closed his eyes. Gently, feeling her way, she lowered herself onto him, encased him in the tight, velvet sheath of her body.
He grabbed her bare buttocks and pulled her toward him. She leaned closer, curling her fingers around the scrolled oak bedrail. Her breasts wavered before him, taunting him with their perfect, pebbly tips.