Jeopardy by Fayrene Preston

traveled to his jeans that hung low on his hips, unfastened, unzipped. Heat surged through her. Feeling suddenly vulnerable, she sat up and scooted backward until she was against the pillows.
    He took the place beside her, leaning back against the headboard. She looked unbelievably sensuous and erotic, with her hair tousled, her clothes disheveled, her lips swollen and pouty. “I was right,” he murmured huskily.
    “About what?”
    “I did go up in flames.”
    She wet her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue and whispered. “I did too.”
    With a groan he reached for her and brought her across his lap. She adjusted her legs so that she was astride him.
    He felt her pressing down on him, warm and moist. Instantaneously his body caught fire and his mind began to haze over. “Dammit, this time I’m at least going to get your clothes off you.” He skimmed her dress up her body, over her head, and tossed it aside. Her bra and slip followed.
    And then he was inside her, so simply, so easily, so mind-bendingly wonderfully that he wondered why he had let his obsession with getting her undressed delay him.
    When his hands fastened on her breasts, he remembered and understood why he had wanted to delay. He had a deeply primitive need to feel every inch of her skin, both inside and out. He clasped her hips and began moving her in a circular motion, and at the same time began to thrust up into her.
    She felt filled with him. No part of her remained unaffected. Powerful sensations swept through her time after time, threatening to carry her away in the maelstrom of ecstasy. She reached behind him and grasped the ebony headboard to brace herself as she undulated against him, uncaringly plunging herself deeper into the dark, sweet mire of passion that Amarillo offered.
    The moonlight streamed in the window behind him, highlighting Angelica. She looked like pure passion to him, with her head back, her hair streaming down her back, her lips swollen from his kisses, her face intent yet softened with desire.
    He bent his head and captured a nipple and pulled on it. Sweat beaded his brow, his muscles hurt from the restraint he had imposed on himself. She was driving him mad. He had never known lovemaking to grip him like this, to take possession of him so completely that he couldn’t consider the consequences, couldn’t consider anything but the deep, gut-wrenching, soul-satisfying completion that was fast approaching for both of them. The sounds she made and the tension he felt in her body told him she was with him all the way.
    “Let’s do it now,” he muttered hoarsely.
    She gasped out her agreement. “Now.”
    He tightened his grip on her buttocks, and his movements turned more urgent, more fierce and savage. He didn’t know how much more he would be able to stand of the incredible fiery pleasure. There was the risk that he might combust, and take her with him.
    And then the risk became a reality. And the reality became a fantasy that went on and on.

    Four
    The deep, steady breathing of the man lying beside her startled Angelica into wakefulness just before dawn. She listened, at first somewhat bemused. The sound was foreign to her; she wasn’t used to having a man in her bed.
    Then she remembered.
    She wasn’t in her bed.
    She closed her eyes as the preceding night’s events came rushing back to her. She had come to the warehouse so that she and Amarillo could discuss their first kiss—the kiss that had been so out of character for them both, the kiss that had gotten completely out of control, the kiss that had turned into another and another, her hope had been they would be able to place what had happened between the two of them into some sort of perspective, and then put the incident behind them.
    Instead, their talk had turned into a firestorm of lovemaklng that had continued all night. And still she knew no more about Amarillo now than she had when she’d stood by her car and watched him walk away from her. He