CHAPTER 6
HE MOVED UPthe wall, ignoring the pain in his lower back as he straightened. Every cell in his body hummed, and he longed to bury himself in her, to give them both what they craved.
“Please,” she repeated. “Now.”
“Soon,” he whispered.
“You promised me naked,” she murmured, her breath hot against his ear. She reached for his jeans, fumbled with his fly, then slid her hands under the denim, urging his jeans down. “I like a man who keeps his promises.”
And he wanted to keep every one of them—both spoken and unspoken. He took an involuntary step toward her and realized his legs were caught in the circle of denim around his ankles. “I think you’ve trapped me.”
“Good.” She caught the collar of his T-shirt and pulled him forward, then planted a mind-blowing kiss on him. Apparently, his sweet Kyra had decided she wanted to call the shots, and he was more than happy to succumb to her whims.
With a tug, she lifted his shirt. Suddenly her handswere on his waist, soft and warm. She inched her fingers up, pushing the shirt up even as she lowered herself to trail kisses on his now-exposed skin.
He tried to reach for her, but his hands were caught in the sleeves of his shirt above his head. As he fumbled, she pressed closer, her breasts soft against his chest. He tossed the shirt aside, his breath coming hard and ragged, wanting nothing more than to take her right there against the wall until they were both sated and limp in each other’s arms.
“Bed.” His voice was hoarse from passion.
“Yes.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “But you’re still trapped.” With a devious grin, she let her hands glide down his body, down his stomach, then lower. Her fingers teased the elastic band of his briefs, and he had some idea of the pure, glorious, wonderful torment he’d put her through only moments before.
Desperate for her touch, he caught her hand under his, heard her soft gasp as he pressed their joined hands against the full length of his arousal. “I want you,” he whispered.
“I feel it.” Her voice was breathy. Her body, pressed close, burned hot. He longed to bury himself in that heat, to sheath himself in her, to lose himself in this glorious dream and never wake up.
She stroked him, taking him to the brink, and he moaned, a deep gutteral sound in the back of his throat.
“Are you going to let me finish?” she asked, a tease in her voice.
“I think I’ll die if you don’t.”
She slid down further, her hands working their magic on his legs, until every single inch of him burned with desire. When she’d untied his sneakers, he slipped out of his jeans then urged her back up to face him. “Bed,” he repeated. “Now.”
She shook her head, a devilish smile playing across her face. “We’re still not even.” She snapped the band of his underwear lightly. “Naked, remember?”
He chuckled. “For you, my dear, no demand is too much.”
He stepped out of his underwear and pressed against her, urging her backward until she was against the wall again. They fit together perfectly, and she spread her legs just slightly in both invitation and silent demand. He pressed closer, her slick wetness against the length of him an erotic, sensual tease, and he considered taking her right there. But he forced himself to wait, fearful his back couldn’t take it.
She protested as he pulled away, breaking contact, but he took her hand and urged her to the bed. She lay on the spread, her body glowing in the candlelight, her eyes wide, but dreamy. The tableau was pure sensuality, but there was an air of innocence, too. She was everything—sweet, yet sensual; demanding, yet giving.
“Now,” she urged. “I’ve got…you know…in the table by the bed.”
He couldn’t help his grin as she tugged on his hand, urging him forward. The woman was a sultry combination of shy and sexy, and it just about did him in. He followed willingly, knowing he couldn’t, wouldn’t, disappoint her. It seemed as if the whole world turned on losing himself inside her, and he could think of only one way to be absolutely certain that his sore back would survive the night.
He slid in next to her, propped up on his side as he stroked her hair, then moved in to capture her mouth with a kiss. Her hand trailed down, teasing and stroking, making him even harder, a thing he wouldn’t have thought possible.
“Now,” he said, echoing her words. He rolled on his back, urging her on top of him. “Please, sweetheart, now.”
* * *
KYRA SWALLOWED. She was hardly a virgin, but she’d never been a particularly, well, aggressive lover, though that was changing a bit tonight. And now Michael seemed to want her to take the lead. She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.
Slowly, sensually, she moved on top of him, leaning forward to slide open the table’s drawer and pull out one of the little foil packets she’d brought with her. She arched her back as she slid against his body, playing her hands down his bare chest and trailing kisses in their wake. His taste was pure male, and she wanted tosample every part of him, to gorge herself on the wonderful taste that was purely Michael.
He made her feel things she’d never felt before. Like she was spinning out of control. Like every part of her body burned with a fire she couldn’t control or classify.
Alive. Every inch of her. She was alive and the feeling was pure heaven.
