Love Songs by Barbara Delinsky Page A

sigh of need, raw and ever-building. Freed of all pretense by his dare, she would meet him head-on. He would eat his words, she vowed, by the time she was done.
    Her hands lifted to his face, her fingers tracing the rugged lines of his cheek, his jaw, then running around to the vibrant hair at the nape of his neck. His pulse throbbed beneath her thumbs, her own quickening to keep time. When she lifted her lips he met them, still holding back, still demanding that she take the initiative. Unspoken, the dare was repeated. And she met it, deepening her kiss, running the tip of her tongue along the firm line of his lips, then venturing further with darting sweetness in a bid to contest his ability to withstand her provocation. His imminent surrender was electrical.
    Slowly he raised his arms, his hands tightening around her, lifting her until she was nearly off her feet. She clung to him for support as his lips grew active, demanding. To her starved senses it was a delightful feeling, that of yielding to a power greater than herself, of absorbing that power and gaining strength from it. With that strength she returned his kiss, weaving her hands through the thickness of his hair to hold him closer.
    Her feet left the ground as he lifted her, his kiss as strong as ever while he carried her to the bed. The coolness of the sheets against her flaming body, however, was a stark reminder of reality.
    “Alex…?” she whispered, only to be stilled by his thumb against her lips.
    “Shhh. I said I’d put you to bed. I’m only doing that.”
    When his hands reached for the tie of her robe she demurred. “Alex!”
    “Shhh. You’ll wake everyone up.”
    His lips silenced her further, drugging her anew as his fingers drew the robe apart, then slid within to begin a sensual exploration of the curves that awaited enticingly. He stroked her sides and her midriff with maddening torment until, caught in an explosion of need, she arched toward him. Only then did he touch her breasts, lightly at first and with a tenderness that hit its mark. This gentleness was totally irresistible. Though his touch grew bolder it was exquisitely precise.
    Alanna’s palms itched to touch as well. Her gaze followed them as they moved to the vee of his robe, settling against his bronzed chest to allow her fingers access to its hair-roughened warmth. Reveling in this textured landscape, her fingers trailed downward. Muscles rippled beneath her fingertips in a deep tremor of excitement which accompanied his low groan. In the dim light her eyes were bright and alive, her lips moist and open as he reached for them with raw hunger. Then reality entered to shatter their intimacy.
    “Are you two at it again? ”
    For a split second they stilled, stunned, tumbling from the heady peak of passion. Alex’s subsequent groan was one of frustration as he pushed himself up to rest on stiffened arms.
    “Sylvia,” he growled huskily, identifying the intruder without even looking around, “you’re worse than any chaperone!”
    The nurse stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Mercifully, she didn’t approach the bed. Alanna’s flush was mirrored on Alex’s face, a flush of passion, not embarrassment. Her eyes drank in his color, his hair in disarray, his gaze still dark with desire.
    Though stern, Sylvia’s voice held an undertone of appreciation. “May I remind you that this is a hospital? We’re all here on official business.”
    It was Alex’s discomposure that gave Alanna the strength, despite her lingering exhilaration, to rebound. “That’s right, Alex. This is a hospital.” She grinned, feeling safer from her own rampant desire with Sylvia in the room. “Official business only. You heard the woman.” She felt an odd satisfaction at having the edge on Alex Knight, regardless of how tentative or superficial it might be.
    “I hear, I hear,” he muttered grudgingly, admitting defeat only for the moment. “You haven’t heard the last of me,