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He was pushing her down on the bed. "Life is not fair."
She laughed as she found herself on her back, but shakily. "I have no clothes on. You are fully dressed."
His eyes widened and brightened at the same time. He stood, smiling. "That," he said, "shall be remedied momentarily."
A
"You are eating me up with those incredible eyes of yours," he said, not moving.
She lifted her gaze to his, feeling herself blush. "I have never seen a man before. I mean, not a living, breathing one-I have never cared to. I have never felt passion before, Braxton."
She tensed and met his brilliant eyes again. And watched his hands lifting-coming toward her. And in that moment she felt a surge of absolute comprehension-she had known that this would happen from the very first moment she had laid her eyes upon him in her father's library. He gripped her shoulders and pulled her slowly up against him. As his chest once again crushed her breasts, as his palms slid down her back, settling on her hips, she breathed, trembling with anticipation. His mouth cut off the sound.
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She was breathing harshly, but so was he.
"Last chance," he whispered roughly.
It took A
He took her hand and pulled her into her bedroom, releasing her to lock the door behind them. A
"What should I do now?" she whispered, dazed.
His smile flashed and he walked to her, hooking his thumbs under the plain straps of her simple nightgown. "You do nothing but feel, A
She could not breathe, could not move. The way he spoke, the look in his eyes, the touch of his fingernails on her skin, was bathing her body in flames. And she knew exactly what it was that she wanted-this man, deep within her, in a carnal way.
"I am glad." He sat down beside her, taking her into his arms. "My name is St. Clare," he said softly.
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"No," he whispered, nuzzling her other breast. "There are some things we do not rush, my dear, and making love is one of them." He was stroking her i
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"You have a way with words," she panted. And then he slipped his hand over her, palming her intimately. A
"God," he cried, no longer sounding either suave or composed.
"Please," A
"Ow." It was a growl. He caught her face in his hands and kissed her hard. There was a brutal demand in his kiss and somehow A
And then she knew it was happening. She tensed, clawing his shoulders. "Pierce!"
His gaze met hers as he came into her again, his face strained with lust. "Now?" he asked, a demand. A
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She stretched, smiling again. No wonder men and women chased one another like fools, she mused. Making love was indeed a wonderful experience, especially with a man like Braxton.
And they had made love. He had been tender, even in the roughest moments, and A
And it was deliriously wonderful. A
No, not Braxton, she corrected herself. His real name was St. Clare. Or at least that was what he claimed.
She sat up, not bothering to hold the covers over her naked breasts. The bed was so small that they had slept in one another's arms last night-when he had not been making love to her, that is. She gri
She sighed. Then, realizing how moonstruck she was acting, she jumped from the bed. Shamelessly naked, she went to the window and parted the curtains more fully. Her happiness dulled, her smile faded. What time was it? It had to be mid-morning. A
He must be downstairs, getting ready to leave. Why hadn't he woken her up?
Surely he did not intend to depart without her-not after last night!
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The house was silent. As if it were deserted, everyone already gone. That, of course, was impossible. Trying not to worry now, trying not to imagine the worst, A
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"Hello."
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Mary A