“Now you sound British,” she said with a laugh.
“I served with a couple of SAS boys in Iraq.”
“SAS?”
“Special Air Services,” he replied. “They’re like our Green Berets or Army Rangers. Or the French Foreign Legion. They have a reputation for excellence, and they’re famous for the ‘Fan Dance,’ their rigorous training course.”
She smiled at him. “You look hazy,” she remarked.
“Is the brandy going to your head, Meredith?” he asked softly.
She put it down. “I’m not sure. I feel very relaxed.”
He put his own snifter down and moved closer. “Relaxed is good,” he whispered, bending his head. “It makes this easier.”
His lips brushed over hers, parting them slowly, tracing them in a silence that breathed tension. His hands smoothed up her rib cage, and she caught her breath at the sensations he kindled in her untried body.
She shivered. He liked that response. His lips brushed hers, lightly, again and again, teasing and tempting, while his hands smoothed ever closer to the high, firm rise of her breasts. But he didn’t touch them, or even try to. He taunted.
She wanted...more. But she wasn’t sure what. Her breath was so ragged that she knew he must hear it, and her legs felt wobbly.
She laughed unsteadily. “I think my legs are going to buckle,” she whispered against his mouth.
“That, I can take care of.” He bent and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the big burgundy sofa. He was smiling as his head moved down and she felt the warm, slow press of his mouth against hers.
She closed her eyes as he laid her down and slid alongside her. His chest arched over hers, brushed against her taut breasts while he kissed her with slow, tender intent.
She really should protest what he was doing. One lean hand was teasing just around the edge of her breast. She wanted him to stop. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to move his hand over, just a couple of inches, to the taut peak that ached to be touched.
Involuntarily, her body arched toward his searching fingers, and she moaned helplessly.
“Is this what you want?” he whispered.
As he spoke, his hand moved tenderly over her small breast and his fingers found the hard tip and caressed it. She gasped and shivered. She’d never realized that physical sensation could have such an explosive effect on her brain. She stopped thinking altogether.
He felt her resistance lessen, and he laughed softly as he bent to her mouth again. No more pretense, he was thinking. She was his if he wanted her. And he wanted her. Madly.
He moved closer, one long leg moving sensually against hers while he felt for the fastening of her dress at her throat and started to undo it.
He was slow and expert as his fingers moved between the fabric and her skin, brushing, lifting, tempting. By the time he had it unfastened to her waist, she was eager for his hands to go under the fabric, onto the black bra she wore with a half slip under the dress.
“God, you’re sexy,” he breathed into her mouth as his fingers trespassed under the cup of the bra. “Sexy as hell!”
As he spoke, his hand moved under the fabric, onto the bare skin of her breast. She arched and cried out helplessly with the force of the pleasure.
CHAPTER NINE
MERRIE WAS LOST in Ren. She was so hungry for him that she didn’t protest the lean, warm, strong hand smoothing over the bare skin of her breast. When he searched for the front clasp of the bra and unfastened it, she only lay in his arms, waiting, waiting...
He opened the bra and exposed her beautiful, creamy breasts. They were firm and rounded, her nipples dark pink and erect with desire. He traced them gently, then lowered his head.
His teeth grasped one hard nipple. She gasped and pushed at his head and cried out in fear.
He lifted his head. She looked genuinely frightened. It was a good act, he thought. But he humored her. He wanted her, and she was willing. If she wanted to pretend that she was a virgin, maybe it was how she got off with a man.
“It’s all right, honey,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you. All right?”
She relaxed, nervous but curious and hungry. “All—all right,” she managed through her tight throat.
He bent again. This time, his mouth swallowed her up whole and his tongue worked at the nipple, arousing sensations she’d never felt. She grasped his shoulders with both hands, and her nails bit in as he suddenly began to suckle her.
She cried out, moaning as if she were dying, arching up to him, shuddering, crying.
“Don’t...stop, oh, please, Ren, don’t...stop!” she sobbed.