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Consequences Of A Hot Havana Night. Louise Fuller
Читать онлайн.Название Consequences Of A Hot Havana Night
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781474088169
Автор произведения Louise Fuller
Серия Mills & Boon Modern
Издательство HarperCollins
Her heart was suddenly beating too fast, and her blood felt as if it had turned to air.
For a second they both stared at each other. He was so close now—close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin and see the flecks of amber in his eyes.
He wasn’t a memory or a fantasy.
He was beautiful, full of life and energy, warm and solid and real.
And he was shaking too. She could feel him.
The sound of her heartbeat was filling her head. She felt almost dizzy with longing.
‘No, it’s not that,’ she said again. ‘It’s this...’
Leaning forward, she pressed her hand against his chest and breathed out unevenly. His skin was warm and smooth and taut, just as she’d imagined. And beneath it she could feel his heart hammering in time with hers.
He sucked in a breath, his jaw tightening. In his narrowed eyes she could see desire fighting with control, and she felt her breath dissolve as he reached up and stroked her cheek.
For a moment their eyes locked, and they breathed each other in, and then, leaning forward, she brushed her lips hesitantly against his, her mouth clumsy with the freedom of touching him.
‘I don’t even know your name...’ he whispered against her mouth.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
She kissed him again and he pulled back a little, his fierce green gaze trained on her face. She knew that he was giving her space to think, time to change her mind.
Her heart was racing. Should she say something? Tell him that this wasn’t who she was ordinarily? That she’d changed her mind. Only she couldn’t say that because it would be a lie.
And it would mean stopping, and she didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want to think or speak or explain. She just wanted to lose herself in this moment, lose herself in him, because right now this was what she was, and he was who she wanted.
Threading her fingers through his hair, she pulled him closer. Instantly he pulled her closer too, angling his body, his tongue, to deepen the kiss. His hands slid beneath her blouse, moving over her back from her hip to her waist, up to the catch of her bra.
He stripped her out of her clothing and pulled her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. Lowering his mouth, he kissed her breast, brushing his lips against one nipple and then the other, and in a heartbeat her body turned to liquid.
The intensity of her desire was both a shock and a revelation. Always before it had been a slow and steady progress. This was like throwing a match on gasoline—a pure white-hot blazing urgency that blotted out everything but a need for more.
His hands were at her waist, pulling her down. His mouth was seeking hers now, and instinctively she reached for his buckle.
Groaning, he grabbed her wrists. ‘Let’s go to your room.’ He was fighting to get the words out.
‘No.’ Tugging her hands free, she pulled the belt open, and then the zip, and felt his body tense as her fingers wrapped around him.
He groaned again, his hands stilling hers. ‘I don’t have any condoms.’
‘I don’t either.’
For a moment, she was shocked. In the heat of everything, she had forgotten. But his words reassured her, for clearly he was a responsible lover, and the fact that he was holding back made her feel that she could trust him.
‘It’s okay.’ Leaning forward, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely.
Groaning, he raised his hips, shrugging himself free of his trousers, and then he leaned backwards, taking her with him.
His pupils flared and for a second she rode him lightly, teasing the hard, straining length of him, revelling in her power to arouse him. And then, gripping his shoulders for balance, she parted her legs and guided him inside her.
He breathed in sharply. His jaw was taut with concentration, the muscles in his arms and chest bunching as she began to rock back and forth, her breath quickening in her throat as his fingers moved between her thighs, working in time to the fervent, pulsing ache there.
His eyes locked on hers—dark, rapt, blazing. ‘Mírame! Look at me,’ he said, his voice hoarse.
She was fighting for control. Heat was gathering inside her and she clutched frantically at his arms, pulling him closer and then pushing him away, needing to let go but wanting to make it last for ever.
Her muscles clenched, her breathless body gripping his. She felt his hands catch in her hair and suddenly she couldn’t bear it any longer. Arching against him, she tensed against the heat and the hardness, shuddering helplessly. He groaned, pushing against her, seeking more depth, and then, gasping into her mouth, he thrust upwards.
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