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With a groan, he fell back onto the pillows, brushed her bra off his lap, and groped for the buttons of his jeans. Jade's eyes widened with alarm.

"I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to," he explained quickly. Raising his left hand behind his head, he gripped a curving tube of the headboard. "I can't do anything with one hand, right? But I've got to make room, Jade. "

His right hand worked frantically to undo the stubborn buttons. When they were unfastened, he spread his fly open, exposing only a wedge of white cotton briefs. Nevertheless, the shape and dimension of his erection was evident. Jade stared at it fearfully.

True to his word, he kept one hand on the headboard, but reached up with the other to cup her cheek. "I'm hard, yes. I'm supposed to be hard. But I'm not hard because I want to violate you, or hurt you, or prove to you that I'm physically superior.

"I'm hard because you've got gorgeous blue eyes that make me wish I could swim around in them. I'm hard because you've got terrific legs that I've been unable to keep my eyes off since the night we drove around in that damn limousine. I'm hard because your mouth is delicious and your breasts are sweet and I know you must be wet by now." He grimaced from the eroticism of his own monologue. With an effort he moaned, "I don't want to defile you, Jade. I want to make love to you."

Forming an X over her breasts, she crossed her arms and rested her hands on her shoulders. "I know that, Dillon. In my heart, I do. But in my head--

"Stop listening to your head," he said on a near shout, which he immediately ameliorated. "What do you want to do, Jade? Listen to your heart. What is it saying?"

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"it says I want to make love to you, too, but I'm afraid I'll freeze when you try to penetrate me."

He smoothed his hand over her hair. "Then I won't even try - I knew this was going to take time. I counted on going slow. We'll take it a step at a time, and won't even attempt intercourse until you're ready.

"That's not fair to you."

"I'm not suffering." She gave his lap a dubious glance. He chuckled ruefully. "Well, there's suffering and there's suffering. I'm going to sit up again, okay?"

When she was once again kneeling between his thighs, he slowly lowered her arms from her breasts. "You're so pretty, " he whispered.

One kiss melded into another, until it was impossible to distinguish when one ended and another began. His hands were in constant motion. They caressed her neck, her back, her waist, her breasts. Jade was no longer timid about touching him, either. His chest was uncharted territory that she explored with inquisitive hands and curious, but cautious, lips.

"Go ahead," he murmured when her lips hovered above his nipple.

She licked it daintily and discovered how exciting that was. She was thirty-three years old, and this was the first man's body she'd had access to. It was a wonderland of new experiences for her eyes, hands, and mouth.

Frequently Dillon's lips returned to her breasts. He kissed them repeatedly. With the nimble tip of his tongue, he could make her almost delirious. She folded her arms around his head and clasped him tightly to her chest, loving the feel of his thick hair against her smooth skin and the warm, wet motion of his mouth.

Her center grew achy. The lips of her sex pouted with an influx of blood and desire. To ease the feverish ache, she instinctively arched her pelvis and ground it against him.

He swore lavishly.

She didn't realize that he had slipped his hands beneath



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her skirt until she felt his palms sliding up the backs of her thighs. "Is it all right, Jade?"

She could only moan incoherently.

His hands moved over her derriere, palming her, pulling her closer. Then he lowered his head and nuzzled the valley of her thighs through her skirt.

"Ohmygod." She gasped at the burst of pleasure the unexpected caress brought her. Her thighs liquefied. She clutched his shoulders tightly. He splayed one hand over her derriere and moved the other to the front panel of her panties. His fingers slipped beneath the lace and into the dense, glossy curls above her sex.

Jade didn't even think to be afraid. Rather, she released a ragged sigh and bent her head over his.

"Open your thighs a little, Jade."

He didn't poke at her. He didn't crudely probe. His fingers were gently questing, persuasively stroking, applying no more pressure than the beat of a butterfly's wings. She inched her knees farther apart.

"That's it," he whispered encouragingly. "Christ, you're wet." He nudged her breast, then turned his mouth into it. "Silky wet."

His finger slipped between the swollen flesh but didn't penetrate her. Gently, slowly, he separated the full lips to expose that most sensitive spot to the revolving strokes of his finger. By instinct, Jade began to undulate against his hand.

The candlelit room began to shrink around her. Her universe was reduced to the center of the bed, the center of her body, where Dillon was giving her more pleasure than she had ever dreamed possible. His tongue was on her nipple, flicking it as delicately as the pad of his finger was moving over her slippery clitoris.