Emily French by Illusion Page A

the tops of her breasts, curved down, round, to softly cup the underside of the soft mounds.
    It was shocking, and somehow shameful, but very low down, below the pit of her stomach, her organs began to twist and coil, to converge throbbingly in a tightly laced ball. A deep shuddering sigh convulsed her body, which was soft and yielding in a way it had never been before.
    Seth whispered something incoherent, and then his mouth came down hard on hers. Sophy clung to him, her mind reeling, her insides quivering. She arched against him, her mouth finding his with answering passion.
    She murmured in protest when his lips left hers, but Seth only slipped lower, kissing the hollow of her throat. He made a groaning sound, and his thumbs stroked the rounded flesh.
    Sophy pushed in denial of the hand at her breast, but then came a tremulous joy, so strong it was almost painful. A rising, thickening pleasure that drew her muscles taut. The universe shrank to the size of a hand and only his fingers were real. They probed the hardened peak before he drew it into his mouth.
    The warm wetness of his mouth, the roughness of his tongue, made Sophy squeeze her eyes shut. She gasped as a bolt of fire pierced her loins, rippled down her thighs, up her belly, leaving her quivering, muscles trembling in a deep, hurting need.
    She was going to die! She whimpered and dissolved into his body, raking her fingers through his hair, wanting, needing something only he could give.
    The solid strength of his body touching hers made Sophy feel weak. Full-length against him, she was aware of his labored breathing, of every muscle in his long legs, the fiercely masculine outline of his body. His responses became slow and hesitant, as if he feared hurting her, though he made no attempt to camouflage his desire, as he pressed her to him.
    Seth was straining her to him so intensely, pressing her curves into the hard planes of his body with kneading, wanting hands, that it came as a shock to Sophy when he suddenly thrust her back from him and held her inches away in a hurting grip that told her how hard it was for him to break contact with her. She glanced up at him in bewilderment, and saw the faint uncertainty in his features before his face hardened into its familiar unemotional mask.
    Feeling much like a man caught in a tidal wave, Seth made a desperate attempt to battle against an irresistible force. He had promised to give her time! His body surged with desire. He felt ready to erupt!
    There was chaos in him. He couldn’t give in to lust. How could he not? He couldn’t. It was destruction. He was a man of honor. He must resist, give her the time she had asked for. His voice was low and rough.
    “Go to bed, Sophy. I’ll tidy up here.”
    “Will you be joining me?” Her voice was an airless whisper. Her breath had been taken by an explosion of ecstasy and confusion.
    “No. I am travel-weary and tired, Sophy. Let’s leave it at that.”
    Silence filled the kitchen. Sophy waited for a heartbeat. For an instant, she felt as though everything inside were collapsing. Her knees were shaking and she felt weak and cold all over, as if the blood were draining from her body. Seizing her composure with a stubborn will, she stiffened her spine. Pride alone kept her chin up.
    At last she spoke in a voice that seemed to echo the thundering of Seth’s pounding pulse. “As you wish.”
    He watched her go, quietly shutting the door behind her. He had an overwhelming desire to call her back. Still, he kept himself in check. For a long time, he stood there, looking at the closed door, listening for the sound of her footsteps. A very long time. But he couldn’t hear them, for the beating of his heart.
     
    “For heaven’s sake, lass. Whatever’s the matter with ye?”
    A face-crinkling frown replaced the morning smile of greeting that had spread over Tessa Fraser’s face as she drew the bedroom curtains.
    Sophy shrugged. “Seth came home last night.” The words