Yuletide Treasure by Andrea Kane Page B

that of a drowning man than an angry one.
    She moved closer, somehow needing to soothe his turmoil. Her fingers uncurled, glided up his shirtfront to rest over his heart. “Eric,” she whispered, a balm against his fevered mouth. “Oh, Eric.”
    A hard shudder wracked his body, and his punishing grip relaxed. His fists unclenched, his palms drifting up and down her spine, caressing rather than hurting. Urging her closer, he gentled the kiss, his lips circling hers, lingering, silently demanding hers to part.
    Brigitte understood his plea.
    With a natural, innocent ardor, she complied, opening to his penetration, quivering with anticipation as his tongue slid in to mate with hers.
    And then she was lost.
    Eric’s mouth possessed hers with unabated hunger, stroking every tingling surface, awakening nerves that had been forever asleep. Inundated with sensation, Brigitte stood on tiptoe, granting him better access, pressing closer to his powerful frame.
    A low groan vibrated from Eric’s chest, and he took whatshe offered, possessing her in a way Brigitte had never in her wildest imaginings fathomed. His hands moved down to cup her bottom, and urgently, he lifted her from the floor fitting her soft curves against him, pressing the rigid lines of his erection as deep into her as the confines of their clothing would allow.
    Pleasure—dizzying, drenching—poured through her body in torrents of liquid heat. Had Eric not been holding her she would have collapsed, her limbs weak with sensation unable to function. As if reading her mind, Eric swept her into his arms, gripping her tightly as he headed toward the bed. An instant later cool air, welcome on her feverish skin, assailed her as he lowered her to the sheets.
    â€œBrigitte.”
    It was the first time he’d said her name, and her heart sang at the sound.
    â€œWhat?” Her lashes fluttered open.
    â€œAre you sure?”
    Sure? She’d been sure forever.
    â€œYes. I’m sure.”
    His breathing was harsh, strained, and he leaned over her, bracing himself on his forearms. “Do you understand what’s going to happen?”
    No coldhearted man could ever be this tender.
    â€œYes, I understand.”
    He swallowed, every tendon in his neck strained, taut with need. “If you want to change your mind, do it now. Because once I’m in this bed, once I have you under me, there will be no turning back.”
    She reached up, her palm stroking his bristled jaw. “I don’t want to change my mind. Make love to me.”
    Those mesmerizing eyes narrowed into piercing obsidian chips. “Love? This has nothing to do with love,” Eric cautioned, dragging air into his lungs, clearly struggling to regain a control that was far beyond his grasp.
    With a hard shake of his head, he capitulated.
    â€œI’m a bloody bastard for doing this to you.” Fervently, he tunneled his fingers through her hair. “You’re a beautiful, romantic innocent who believes that what we’re about to dois rooted in some miraculous emotion. It’s not, Brigitte. It’s based m physical need. I want you. I’m insane with wanting you. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you outside the church. My body is screaming to be inside yours, to pour an eternity of pent-up hunger into your womb. But that’s lust, my softhearted bride, not love. So, I repeat, if you want to leave, do it now. Because nothing is going to change if you stay, not even after we’ve burned each other up in bed. Not our lives nor the barriers that divide them Nothing.”
    Liquid heat shimmered through Brigitte’s veins. “Burn each other up? Is that what we’ll do?”
    â€œThat—and more.”
    â€œShow me.” Brigitte’s arms curled about Eric’s neck, her fingers lacing through the long hair at his nape. “I don’t care about the rest.”
    â€œYou might later.”
    â€œIf