Best Kept Secrets(132)

and damp and receptive. He sent his tongue deep into her

mouth.

Frantically, she worked her arms out of her coat sleeves

and locked them around the back of his neck. He raised his

head suddenly and looked down at her. There were dark

shadows from weeping beneath her eyes, but the blue irises

were crystal clear as they steadily gazed back at him. She

knew exactly what she was doing. That's all he needed to

know.

He ran his thumb over her lips, which were moist and

swollen from his hard kiss. All he could think about was

kissing her again, harder, and he did.

Her throat was arched and vulnerable to his lips when they

left hers. He drew her skin lightly against his teeth, then

soothed it with whisks of his tongue. He nuzzled her ear and

the base of her neck, and when her clothing got in his way,

he pulled her to a sitting position and peeled her sweater over

her head.

As they lay back down, their breathing was loud and uneven,

the only sound in the room. He unclasped her bra and

pushed the cups aside.

His fingers skimmed over her flesh, which was warm and

flushed with arousal. He cupped one breast, pushed it up,

and took the center between his lips. He sucked it with enough

pressure to elicit a tingle in her womb, but with enough finesse

to tantalize. When the nipple drew taut, he nicked it roughly

with the tip of his tongue.

Alex cried his name in panic and joy. He buried his face

between her breasts and held her close while he rolled her



above him and fought his way out of his jacket at the same

time. She began tearing free the buttons of his shirt. He

unzipped and unbuttoned her skirt, then shoved it down over

her hips, taking her half-slip along with it. Alex ran her fingers

through the thick pelt of hair on his chest, dropped random

kisses on his supple muscles, and rubbed her cheek against

his distended nipple.

They reversed positions again. She managed to get off her

shoes and stockings before he stretched out on top of her.

He placed his hand low on her belly and slid it down into

her underpants.

His hand covered her mound completely and possessively.

With his thumb, he parted the lips of her sex and exposed

the tight, responsive kernel of flesh. His fingertips dipped

into her creaminess and anointed that tiny nub with the dew

of her own desire.

When she moaned her pleasure, he bent his head and kissed

her stomach. Removing her panties, he nuzzled the fiery dark

curls between her thighs and touched her with his open mouth.

Clumsily, he undid his fly and, taking her hand, pressed

it against his erection. He hissed a curse when her fist closed

tightly around him. Nudging her thighs apart, he settled himself

between them.

The smooth tip of his penis slipped between the folds of

her body. He covered her breasts with his hands and lightly

ground the raised centers with his palms. He gave a steady,

smooth thrust of his hips that should have planted him firmly

inside her.

It didn't.

He readjusted his hips slightly and tried again, encountering

the same resistance. Levering himself up, he stared at her

with disbelief. "You mean . . . ?"

Her breath was choppy, and her eyes fluttered in an effort

to stay focused on him. She was making small yearning noises

in her throat. Her hands moved restlessly, searchingly, over

his chest and neck and cheeks. Her fingertips glanced his

lips.

The utter sexiness of all that and the satiny heat that was



gloving him so tightly were his undoing. He applied more

pressure and sank into her completely. Her ragged sigh of

surprise and discovery was the most erotic sound he'd ever

heard. It inflamed him.

"Christ," he groaned. "Oh, Christ."

Mating instincts took over and he moved his hips against

hers with the ancient compulsion to possess and fill. Sandwiching

her head between his hands, he kissed her mouth

with rampant carnality. His climax was an avalanche of sensation.

It was soul-shuddering. It seemed to go on forever

. . . and it still wasn't long enough.

Several minutes elapsed before he roused himself enough

to disengage. He didn't want to, but when he gazed down at

her, any thoughts of prolonging their coupling fled.

She was lying with her head turned away, one cheek on

the pillow. She looked fragile and haunted. Looking down

at the faint pulse in her throat, seeing the bruise his kiss had

branded there, Reede felt like a rapist. Filled with regret and

self-loathing, he worked his fingers free of the snare of her

hair.

They both reacted violently to the knock on the door. Alex

quickly reached for the rumpled bedspread and pulled it over

herself. Reede's feet landed hard on the floor. He hiked his

jeans up over his hips.

"Reede, you in there?"

"Yeah," he called through the door.