On the man below her.
She could hardly countenance where she was or how she’d gotten here. One moment she’d been pacing the stage and practicing her lines. The next, she was falling through the trap door, and now…
She was straddling Ravensworth, cobwebs in her hair, scratchy dirt beneath her knees.
Straddling Ravensworth.
That was the main point.
Good Lord.
It couldn’t be…
She dragged her skirts back and confirmed that, yes, it was he.Hissolid, muscular chest below her.Hishands clutching her waist. Andhisgolden gaze staring up at her as intense and inscrutable as ever.
To be so centered within that gaze…
She couldn’t move.
She’d never been this close to him.
She’d never known his scent.
Until now.
Citrus and cedar.
Lovely.
The man smelled lovely.
And the feel of him between her legs…
Lovely didn’t come close to the correct word for that feeling.
Even as her mind rejected the very notion, her body experienced a very different response. As if the center of her had gone hot and liquid and needed—oh—needed to rub against something.
And the look in his eyes…
It said he could provide exactly that something.
Madness… This was utter and complete madness.
And yet she couldn’t break away from it.
“Delilah,” rasped against the back of his throat as his hands at her waist tightened and pressed her down upon him.
Her hips instinctively angled, and she gasped, suddenly supremely aware of a single fact. Only the fabric of his shirt lay between his muscled chest and…her—oh—sex…that sensitive flesh pressed against him, aching for…
He pulled her hips forward sosheground against him.
Sudden light sparked through her, and a little cry escaped her parted lips. His pupils flared as he moved her against him again, her thighs instinctively spreading wider. “Oh,” she breathed.
What was happening?
She wasn’t certain, but the man below her…
He was.
