replied. His possessive gaze traveled boldly from her face to the soft curve of her breasts in the revealing knit shirt, to her slender waist and her long, elegant legs in their tight blue-jeans casing. “I’m sorry I hurt you that night,” he remarked in a deep, velvet-soft tone. “I’m even sorrier that I didn’t make up for it. By then, the risk would have been no worse. I left you with scars, didn’t I?”
“Enough…that I don’t want any more of them! Will you let me go?” she said, panting.
His voice was tender, the slow movements of his hand on her hip maddening. “It must have gone against everything you believed in to give yourself to me. I wasn’t thinking about your upbringing. I was so drunk on the taste and feel of you that I couldn’t think. I remember the scent of your body, the sound of your voice in my ear whispering that you loved me….”
“Stop it!” she cried, hiding her red face against him. Her hands clenched into fists against his chest. “Stop it, Keegan, for heaven’s sake! I was a teenage girl with a furious crush, and you were an experienced man out to revenge yourself on the girl you really loved. That’s all it was!”
“Are you sure?” He tilted her face up to his quiet, solemn eyes. “I’ll admit that I’d had too much to drink and had fought with Lorraine, and you looked…” His mind went back to the way she’d looked in blue satin with her long hair curving around her shoulders and her full, lovely breasts provocatively displayed in the strapless gown. “You looked like Venus walking. I only meant to show you a good time, kiss you a little. But when you moaned and started kissing me back so hungrily, I forgot everything.”
It had been explosive, she remembered, the bare touch of his mouth enough to trigger unexpected longings. She’d wanted it for so many years, hungered for it, ached to know his lovemaking, his possession. She’d had a few drinks of her own, and when he’d started undressing her, she’d gone wild at the touch of his skillful hands on her bare flesh.
He saw those memories in her eyes and felt his body going tense. The soft warmth and weight of her in hisarms was making him ache. She smelled of gardenia, and his mind wouldn’t let go of the picture it carried of her that night in the moonlit darkness, writhing under his touch while the car stereo played an exotic, sultry tune that could still bring his blood up four years later.
“Don’t you dare touch me there!” she burst out as his fingers went down to her knit blouse and edged under it to the bottom of her bra.
But his hand kept moving, and she could feel his warm breath at her ear, whispering things she didn’t hear. She struggled again, until his strength subdued her. The silence around them was tense, broken by bird songs, the lap of the water on the shore and the rustle of windblown leaves. Eleanor could hardly hear them above the beat of her heart. She could even hear his, and she marveled at the electricity they created together. It seemed even more potent than it had four years ago, perhaps because she was a woman now.
“Hush, Ellie,” he whispered, ignoring the hand tugging at his wrist. “Shhhhh. Lie still for me….”
She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. He had her wrapped up so tightly that she couldn’t even squirm. She didn’t want his hands on her; she couldn’t bear the remembered pleasure of it. She moaned sharply, hating the vulnerability that he could hear now as he found the front clip of the garment and gently unhooked it. She could feel herself swelling, and he wasn’t even touching her yet. His fingers rested on the clip as the bra parted in front and began to peel away.
He lifted his head, finding her eyes, paralyzing her with the sweet warmth of that possessive gaze, while his fingers tortured her with slow, expert movements.
“All I want is to touch you, stroke you a little,” he said in a voice as lazy and sultry as a summer
“Enough…that I don’t want any more of them! Will you let me go?” she said, panting.
His voice was tender, the slow movements of his hand on her hip maddening. “It must have gone against everything you believed in to give yourself to me. I wasn’t thinking about your upbringing. I was so drunk on the taste and feel of you that I couldn’t think. I remember the scent of your body, the sound of your voice in my ear whispering that you loved me….”
“Stop it!” she cried, hiding her red face against him. Her hands clenched into fists against his chest. “Stop it, Keegan, for heaven’s sake! I was a teenage girl with a furious crush, and you were an experienced man out to revenge yourself on the girl you really loved. That’s all it was!”
“Are you sure?” He tilted her face up to his quiet, solemn eyes. “I’ll admit that I’d had too much to drink and had fought with Lorraine, and you looked…” His mind went back to the way she’d looked in blue satin with her long hair curving around her shoulders and her full, lovely breasts provocatively displayed in the strapless gown. “You looked like Venus walking. I only meant to show you a good time, kiss you a little. But when you moaned and started kissing me back so hungrily, I forgot everything.”
It had been explosive, she remembered, the bare touch of his mouth enough to trigger unexpected longings. She’d wanted it for so many years, hungered for it, ached to know his lovemaking, his possession. She’d had a few drinks of her own, and when he’d started undressing her, she’d gone wild at the touch of his skillful hands on her bare flesh.
He saw those memories in her eyes and felt his body going tense. The soft warmth and weight of her in hisarms was making him ache. She smelled of gardenia, and his mind wouldn’t let go of the picture it carried of her that night in the moonlit darkness, writhing under his touch while the car stereo played an exotic, sultry tune that could still bring his blood up four years later.
“Don’t you dare touch me there!” she burst out as his fingers went down to her knit blouse and edged under it to the bottom of her bra.
But his hand kept moving, and she could feel his warm breath at her ear, whispering things she didn’t hear. She struggled again, until his strength subdued her. The silence around them was tense, broken by bird songs, the lap of the water on the shore and the rustle of windblown leaves. Eleanor could hardly hear them above the beat of her heart. She could even hear his, and she marveled at the electricity they created together. It seemed even more potent than it had four years ago, perhaps because she was a woman now.
“Hush, Ellie,” he whispered, ignoring the hand tugging at his wrist. “Shhhhh. Lie still for me….”
She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. He had her wrapped up so tightly that she couldn’t even squirm. She didn’t want his hands on her; she couldn’t bear the remembered pleasure of it. She moaned sharply, hating the vulnerability that he could hear now as he found the front clip of the garment and gently unhooked it. She could feel herself swelling, and he wasn’t even touching her yet. His fingers rested on the clip as the bra parted in front and began to peel away.
He lifted his head, finding her eyes, paralyzing her with the sweet warmth of that possessive gaze, while his fingers tortured her with slow, expert movements.
“All I want is to touch you, stroke you a little,” he said in a voice as lazy and sultry as a summer
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