It broke inside her, all that had been tensed releasing on an unruly wave that washed through her. “Archie,” she cried, arcing into him, demanding more as abandon tipped her beyond the boundaries of the physical.
She wasn’t sure how long she remained poised like that, but eventually the race of her heart slowed, and she opened her eyes to find his head angled back, his gaze fast upon her.
“How did you do that?” she asked—demanded.
He laughed.
“You’re as clever as you think you are.” She was serious.
“Valentina,” he said. “Do you trust me?”
The answer was instinctive. “Yes.”
His finger slid from her, and she moaned at the loss of him.
He stood and in a single efficient motion swept her into his arms. Her face nestled against the crook of his neck as he carried her across the room, lay her on the bed, and stood back. It only struck her now that she was entirely naked while he was fully clothed introusers and shirt.
She propped herself up onto her elbows. Her breasts stood high and proud on her chest. The hunger in his eyes deepened. He rather liked her voluptuous breasts.
Well, they liked him back.
He slid the shirt over his head, and her gaze swept slowly across him. Tall and angular was this man, but muscled, too, and not an ounce of excess on him. The defined muscles of his chest were covered in a fuzz of blond hair that led down the ridged muscles of his stomach, and even further below where his fingers were loosening the fall of his trousers. Clearly delineated beneath superfine wool was the rigid outline of his manhood. Then fabric dropped, and it sprang free.
A shiver streaked through her.
Long, thick, turgid… Her body wantedthat.
Inside her.
He dispatched the trousers with a few movements. He was gorgeous, this man. So golden and light, and yet it was the dark promise in his eyes that sent a shard of desire straight through her.
Gone was the Lord Archer out to charm the world with his smile. In its place was a wicked curl of the mouth, and a steady intent in his eyes. To be the desire of such a man was nearly as seductive as his touch.Nearly.
She came to her knees as he stepped to the edge of the bed. He reached for her—one hand drawing her in for a kiss, the other clutching her hip, pulling her so her body met the length of his, his hard manhood pressed against her belly. Twin threads of desire and anticipation trembled through her at the feel of his smooth skin beneath her hands, the hot tangle of his tongue with hers.
Hands tightened around her, and he lay her down beneath him. One elbow planted to the side of her head, he hovered above her, his fingers tracing across her breasts and down her stomach to the mound of her sex.
“Valentina,” he whispered against her mouth.
It was only then she realized her eyes were closed. She’d become a being composed entirely of sensation. She found him staring down at her.
“You can touch me.”
And it struck her.
What he was giving her, she could give him.
Now wasn’t the time to be bashful.
In this bed, together, they were equals.
They were man and woman.
Madly in lust with one another.
And she knew exactly which part of him she would like to touch first. She reached up and ran her fingers through tousled golden curls. “As soft as I thought they’d be.”
“You’ve been thinking about my curls?”
