His hands slipped beneath the collar of the shirt again. This time they followed the slopes of her shoulders, gently parting the shirt and forcing it to whisper from her form to the floor. He stood back once more, making no apology for the long, silent assessment he gave her. Bryn stood still, her chin lifted as she tried not to shiver beneath his golden gaze.
And then she felt his arms about her.Strong and tender. He was still silent as he lifted her, staring into her eyes as he carried her to the bed and laid her upon it. His length slid along hers, and when the warm, callused touch of his palm caressed and held her hip, she at last sighed and slipped her arms around his neck. His lips touched hers, lightly, and then they were gone. He leaned upon an elbow, one hand upon her, a rough-haired leg angled over her softer one.
She saw his eyes, and she saw a million things in them.Tenderness.Caring.Empathy.
And a raw streak of desire.Glittering golden heat and a savage intensity tempered only by the streak of tenderness... Bryn felt herself shudder. But she didn't want to look away from him. His hunger seemed to warm her.To reach inside of her. To build a pulsing need deep within her that flowed through her heart and her limbs. Hot, sweet fire, centering low in her belly, spreading, burning with a wild thirst... His hand began to move, running lightly, caressingly, along her hip. His palm and fingers were rough, made hard by the force with which he beat his drums, yet his touch was like a brush of soaring wings, evocative and thrilling. Bryn caught her breath as she felt his hand move upon her, exploring her, knowing her with this new sense as he had with his eyes: thoroughly.
He drew soft circles over her belly with the heel of his palm, circles that climbed steadily higher so that she ached with anticipation. But his hand stopped below her breast, and he lowered his head to tease its crest with the tip of his tongue. She swallowed back a little cry. She longed for him so badly.
In answer to her need his hand closed over the swelling mound, and the demand of his mouth grew harder, tugging, nipping, sending currents of ecstasy sweeping through her. Her fingers tensely gripped his back. His body moved against hers like a rhythmic liquid fire, and she whimpered a soft cry of complete surrender to his desire, and to her own.
She nipped gently at his shoulder, bathing the tiny hurt with the tip of her tongue, washing it in a rain of passionate kisses. She moaned and arched to him as his lips moved across the valley of her breasts to render the same exquisite care a second time. And now, as his lips hungrily teased and assaulted the hardened crest and aching mound, his hand ran free again, exploring the angle of her hip, the flatness of her belly, the soft copper sheath of feminine hair, the slight swell of her thigh.... Then suddenly he rose above her. He watched her as he wedged his knee between her thighs, his arms holding his weight from her as he slid his length firmly between her legs. His features were tense and strained with passion; his eyes glittered with a pure golden fire. And yet there was still something controlled within them; he held himself above her, waiting....
He groaned, a harsh, guttural sound, eased his weight against her and caught her head between the rough grasp of his hands, his fingers entwining in her hair as his lips caught hers in a demanding, all consuming kiss.
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His ardor was a delicious tempest. For one brief moment she was frightened, as one was frightened facing the swirling winds
ofa storm, or the soaring fall of a roller coaster. Already he had taken her past reason or thought, swept her into a realm of intensity from which there was no return. One step further and she would be completely his; with such a man it would mean total abandon. The heights of ecstasy would be hers; his passion would be wild and as demanding as it was giving. The risk of pain would be as great as the thunder of joy. His mouth moved against hers; his kisses roamed over her cheek and fell to her throat.
But then she found that he was looking at her again, and that his golden eyes burned into hers with a ruthless and questing brilliancy.
"Do you trust me?" he whispered huskily. "I don't know," she told him, her breath mingling with his, their lips almost touching.
"I want you...so much," he said. A shudder raked the length of his body. She knew that he wanted her; the potency of his male desire was hard against her thigh, taunting her, frightening her, thrilling her. The length of his tightlysinewed body thrilled and excited her. She was touching him, yet she wanted to touch more and more of him, to run her fingers, her lips over the clean-muscledbronzeness of him.