Page 119 of Frankly, My Dear

Selene heard his sharp inhale of breath and felt his body stiffen behind her. Especially his steely erection, which pressed against the cleft of her bare buttocks.

“Look,” he demanded in a raspy voice.

Her eyelashes lifted slowly.

“You are the beautiful one, Selene.”

And she was. Selene had posed for thousands of photographs because of her renowned beauty, but she had never looked this good. Never.

James was half a head taller than she, and she was very tall. She had gained some weight the past few weeks, to her advantage, she had to admit. Jutting bones and harsh angles had been replaced with soft curves and tempting, secret shadows. Through James’s eyes she saw her full breasts and narrow waist, the dark curls of her femininity and long, tapered legs.

She hardly recognized the wanton creature with the wild hair and passion-bruised lips. The green-eyed seductress that stared back at her with flaming desire was not the “sexless mannequin” Devon had once described. Yes, she was beautiful, and for once she was happy that beauty defined her, if only because it brought pleasure to this man she loved.

“Put your hands behind my neck,” he urged, placing one palm possessively against her taut belly, pulling her back against his body, and using the other hand to guide her hands up and behind his neck.

The motion brought her full breasts even higher and arched her back, as if she were offering her engorged nipples for a lover’s sustenance. She was.

Selene felt James’s erection jerk against her.

“Oh.”

With his left hand still pressing against her stomach, James used his right hand to pull her hair off her face. “Oh?”

“Oh, if you don’t touch me soon, I think I’m going to die.”

He looked as if he wanted to laugh but was in too much pain.

“I love your breasts,” he whispered against her ear, the hot breath teasing the inner whorls erotically. He used both hands to lift her breasts even higher, then swept his palms upward over the aching centers.

“A-a-ah.”

“Does that feel good?” He used his palms to draw light circles on them.

“It feels wonderful…and terrible. It’s too much…and not nearly enough.”

His palms left her breasts, leaving the swollen mounds unfulfilled and yearning with a throbbing intensity for more. His luminous eyes trapped hers in the mirror as his exploring hands moved lower, skimming over the wetness that coated even her outer curls. She lowered her eyes, but he immediately forced her chin upward.

“No, chérie, I want to see your pleasure, as you see mine.”

“I want you inside me when I come, James,” she admitted in a small voice.

She felt his breath suspend momentarily. Then he exhaled with a loud whoosh. “I will be, darling. I will be. Just let me…” He pressed his fingertips between her legs, then shuddered. “Mon Dieu! You are like warm honey melting over me. I wanted to make this last. I really did, Selene. But I don’t think I can wait.”

She turned in his arms and gripped his face. “No more torture, James. Later…you can torture me later if you want, but for now I just want you to…I just want you. That’s all.”

With a deep, masculine sigh of compliance, he hooked his arm under her knees and carried her to the bed. Dropping her down to her back on the feather mattress, he followed immediately after, covering her with the welcome weight of his body.

“Now,” she demanded, parting her legs and bending her knees to cradle him. She reached for him, hoping to draw his hardness into her body, but he slapped her hand away with a low laugh.

“Not yet. Your embers have not yet become a bonfire.”

“Hah! If you’re not careful, I’m going to sizzle your pizzle,” she warned, quoting Etienne’s favorite vulgar word.

James laughed. “I’ll hold you to that promise, Selene. Later.”

“Now, James.”

With sublime Southern charm, he grinned at her and refused, doing just as he damned well pleased. Not that it didn’t please her, too.