The Virgin's Proposition by Anne McAllister Page B

his thighs. “Be my guest.”
    Anny swallowed. Then she levered herself up to sit against the headboard of the bed. She felt awkward as she reached out to touch him, but her hands didn’t. They knew precisely what to do, taking hold of the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one, exposing his bare chest to her gaze.
    And as she parted his shirt, the tips of her fingers brushed against the wiry curling hair that arrowed down from his chest to the waistband of his jeans.
    Demetrios’s jaw tightened as he watched her every move, breathing shallowly, his eyes hooded, his body totally still, as if he were steeling himself to endure some sort of pain.
    “Are you all right?” she asked him worriedly.
    He gave a hoarse laugh. “Oh, yeah. More than all right.” Then abruptly he shrugged his shirt off, tossed it aside, took her hands and pressed them against his chest.
    His skin was hot and damp and she could feel his heart thundering beneath her palm. Instinctively Anny leaned forward and touched her lips to his chest. Kissed him there, loved the feel of his heated flesh beneath her lips. She moved higher, kissed his collarbone, then his shoulders. She kissed his neck, nuzzled against his stubbled jawline, nibbled his ear, then traced it with her tongue and felt him shudder.
    His response made her smile with a heady sense of power and excitement as she understood that he wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him.
    And then he was bearing her back on the bed, where he made quick work of the zip on her linen trousers, hooked his thumbsin the waistband, skimmed them down her legs and dropped them onto the floor.
    She should have felt self-conscious when he settled back to let his eyes roam over her. But all she felt was desire. And need.
    Anny reached for his belt eagerly, but her hands weren’t expert now and she fumbled with it.
    Demetrios stilled her fingers. “Let me.” He had it undone and was skinning out of his jeans in a matter of seconds. And then he was settling between her knees, running his hands up her thighs. Anny stroked his, too.
    Demetrios tried to take it slow. He understood that she wasn’t in the habit of propositioning men. Her touch was tentative, but no less tantalizing for being so.
    The truth was that her unpracticed touch was more erotic than anything he’d felt in years. Of course, Lissa had been a skilled lover. But knowing she’d got her skills from sleeping with dozens of men was something he’d done his best to blot out of his mind.
    Anny’s touch was nothing like Lissa’s. As her fingers skimmed over his body, he felt as if she were learning him and reawakening him at the same time.
    It was almost like being reborn.
    After the drama and trauma of his life with Lissa, he’d deliberately and determinedly shut off that part of himself. He’d refused to touch. Refused to feel.
    Until tonight. Now, tonight, with her warm smiles, her gentle demeanor and soft touch, not to mention a certain artless allure that he doubted she was even aware of, Anny had unwittingly opened that door.
    She made him feel again. Need again. Ache with desire in a way he hadn’t since he was barely more than a boy. Both of them were connecting with their youthful selves tonight, Demetrios thought as he ran his hands over the line of her ribs, the slight swell of her hip, her long, lovely thigh to her knee, then slowly traced a line up the inside of that same thigh.
    She quivered. So did he.
    She lifted a hand and drew her fingers lightly down hischest. Lower. And as she did, the heel of her hand brushed against his erection, a simple unintentional touch nearly sending him over the edge.
    His breath hissed between his teeth. “Careful,” he said, his voice shaky. “I’m a little overeager tonight. It’s been a long time.”
    Her eyes widened. She looked stricken. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, putting the meaning he hadn’t said into the words he had. She started to sit up, to pull away. “I