mashed her lips on his.
He didn’t respond at first, but tried to push her away. Not cruelly or emphatically — that he could have done easily. But like a man who feared to hurt her feelings, yet surmised something was wrong.
She didn’t let go of his neck, and she opened her mouth on his with as much insistence as he’d shown earlier. The hand that she’d used to caress his nipple she slid down his body, opening his greatcoat as he had opened her robe, until she touched the hollow of his thigh just below his stomach. There her fingers hovered, almost in contact with his shaft.
Did she have the nerve to seduce him coldly, for her own purposes? The plan seemed excellent, but the execution was proving difficult. She’d learned the rudiments of arousal earlier that night, and she had yet to lose the shyness of innocence.
Yet she had to concentrate on titillating him rather than on her scheme to escape, for her acting couldn’t stand up under his scrutiny. She had to lose sight of the lie and want him again.
After all, that shouldn’t be difficult. She did want him again. She’d always wanted him. She recognized the tiger inside him, because it corresponded to the tiger inside her. Even if he were the Seamaster and had sent Ronald to his death, even if he were Jean and ordered Ronald’s murder, still she wanted him.
She had let him have his way with her. She told herself she had no choice.
But that was not true. She had mated with the tiger because … because deep inside, she recognized her one true love.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE REVELATION horrified Laura. She found herself leaning back, staring at Hamilton’s strong, sculptured face.
“What? Laura, what is it?” He held her as if he thought she would tumble down without his support. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I want you.” Her voice sounded little and far away, even to her own ears.
Now he looked as stunned as she felt. “I want you, too. I want … all of you. I want to talk to you and … make love to you and simply … be with you.” The words seemed to struggle from him, from this composed, restrained, thoughtful man. One of his hands rose to stroke her face, and his fingers were trembling. “It’s too early, I’ve done it all backward, but I want … I have to ask …”
She didn’t want him to ask her anything. If he did … oh, heavens. If he did, she might tell him the truth.
So she grasped his penis with her hand.
He grimaced as if she had hurt him.
But apparently not, for he picked her up and rearranged her so her legs parted over the top of his. He put her back down.
The sensation of her bare bottom against his bare thighs shocked her back into good sense. He wanted to do this here, now, and if they did her plan would have failed. She had to get him back to the bed. Pushing against his shoulders, she said, “No!”
“What?” Desire glazed his blue eyes.
“On the bed. Please.” She scooted back.
He grappled to keep her close.
“Please. Hamilton. Keefe. The bed. I want to try something … exciting.”
“This’ll be exciting,” he promised.
“I can’t. Not here.” She slid off the end of his knees, and the pressure made her aware of her own arousal, of how easily she could succumb to his persuasion. “Please.” She stood and tugged at his hand. “Come on.”
He stood, too, and looked down at her. “I shouldn’t,” he muttered.
“This won’t take long.”
He half-laughed. “No, I don’t suppose it will.”
He stumbled over the edge of the rug as she led him to the bed.
That reassured her. He was off-balance. At her mercy. As she walked, she untied the belt of her robe. When they reached their goal, she placed it beside the pillows.
His hands encircled her waist to boost her onto the bed.
She twisted quickly away. “No, you get on first.”
He studied her. “You’re bold for a fledging.”
“A cub,” she corrected. Pushing his greatcoat off, she held it in one
He didn’t respond at first, but tried to push her away. Not cruelly or emphatically — that he could have done easily. But like a man who feared to hurt her feelings, yet surmised something was wrong.
She didn’t let go of his neck, and she opened her mouth on his with as much insistence as he’d shown earlier. The hand that she’d used to caress his nipple she slid down his body, opening his greatcoat as he had opened her robe, until she touched the hollow of his thigh just below his stomach. There her fingers hovered, almost in contact with his shaft.
Did she have the nerve to seduce him coldly, for her own purposes? The plan seemed excellent, but the execution was proving difficult. She’d learned the rudiments of arousal earlier that night, and she had yet to lose the shyness of innocence.
Yet she had to concentrate on titillating him rather than on her scheme to escape, for her acting couldn’t stand up under his scrutiny. She had to lose sight of the lie and want him again.
After all, that shouldn’t be difficult. She did want him again. She’d always wanted him. She recognized the tiger inside him, because it corresponded to the tiger inside her. Even if he were the Seamaster and had sent Ronald to his death, even if he were Jean and ordered Ronald’s murder, still she wanted him.
She had let him have his way with her. She told herself she had no choice.
But that was not true. She had mated with the tiger because … because deep inside, she recognized her one true love.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE REVELATION horrified Laura. She found herself leaning back, staring at Hamilton’s strong, sculptured face.
“What? Laura, what is it?” He held her as if he thought she would tumble down without his support. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I want you.” Her voice sounded little and far away, even to her own ears.
Now he looked as stunned as she felt. “I want you, too. I want … all of you. I want to talk to you and … make love to you and simply … be with you.” The words seemed to struggle from him, from this composed, restrained, thoughtful man. One of his hands rose to stroke her face, and his fingers were trembling. “It’s too early, I’ve done it all backward, but I want … I have to ask …”
She didn’t want him to ask her anything. If he did … oh, heavens. If he did, she might tell him the truth.
So she grasped his penis with her hand.
He grimaced as if she had hurt him.
But apparently not, for he picked her up and rearranged her so her legs parted over the top of his. He put her back down.
The sensation of her bare bottom against his bare thighs shocked her back into good sense. He wanted to do this here, now, and if they did her plan would have failed. She had to get him back to the bed. Pushing against his shoulders, she said, “No!”
“What?” Desire glazed his blue eyes.
“On the bed. Please.” She scooted back.
He grappled to keep her close.
“Please. Hamilton. Keefe. The bed. I want to try something … exciting.”
“This’ll be exciting,” he promised.
“I can’t. Not here.” She slid off the end of his knees, and the pressure made her aware of her own arousal, of how easily she could succumb to his persuasion. “Please.” She stood and tugged at his hand. “Come on.”
He stood, too, and looked down at her. “I shouldn’t,” he muttered.
“This won’t take long.”
He half-laughed. “No, I don’t suppose it will.”
He stumbled over the edge of the rug as she led him to the bed.
That reassured her. He was off-balance. At her mercy. As she walked, she untied the belt of her robe. When they reached their goal, she placed it beside the pillows.
His hands encircled her waist to boost her onto the bed.
She twisted quickly away. “No, you get on first.”
He studied her. “You’re bold for a fledging.”
“A cub,” she corrected. Pushing his greatcoat off, she held it in one
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