Evan made a pained sound as he laid her on the bed, then braced his hands on each side of her head, looming over her as he watched her with alarming intensity. He was still fully dressed. His elegant blue-gray morning suit in shambles from his exertions.
“I want to see you,” she asked, not caring how it sounded, and he smiled a new kind of smile. One that made his whisky eyes look molten, not just with that sensuous heat but with something much more unsettling. She nearly had to look away.
“I can do that,” he said, sounding a little too pleased with himself.
He stood from the bed and disposed of his clothes like a madman, his tie and cufflinks landing across the room while Luz propped herself on her elbows to better witness the unveiling. With every piece of clothing that was torn off, her eagerness grew.
He was much too beautiful. His chest was sculpted with muscle, and a swirl of sable hair ran from between his pectorals in a train down to the placket of his trousers.
“See something you like?” He eyed her with that arrogant glint that made her belly flip.
“Quite a few things, as a matter of fact.” Shewasadmiring him, and she didn’t mind him knowing. There was a lot to appreciate when it came to Evan Sinclair’s body. With his eyes locked on hers, he pushed down his trousers.
“Copulation is imminent, Luz Alana,” he warned as he stood there before her like a flesh-and-blood, libidinous god. Wickedly virile, his erection jutted from a nest of curls.
Her heart hammered in her chest, hard, so hard she felt the pulsing in her whole body. Shewasnervous and a little scared. Not of the pain that she’d been warned about: she could survive that. Surviving Evan Sinclair was a whole other matter.
“I’m waiting, Sinclair,” she said defiantly, impressed at the steadiness of her voice.
His nostrils flared as his eyes took her in, slowly, so agonizingly slowly... Then he pounced. He covered her with that wall of sinew and heat. Their limbs sliding together in a silky friction. He kissed her for a long, breathless moment as his hands roamed over her skin. He palmed her belly, cupped her breasts, then surprised her by taking a nipple between his teeth, making her arch against him. She felt his rough palm descend, searching for her again. Then he was there, with that expert, knowing touch.
He lifted his head and looked at her as his fingers glided inside her.
“So tight.” His speech had become staccato, as if his control was slipping.
“It might hurt a little,” he said with astonishing tenderness.
His slid down her body until he was back at the apex of her thighs. He spread her with his fingers and glanced up at her.
“So pink and pretty,” he whispered reverently as he grazed her labia with the pad of his thumb, making her buck up from the shock. “Like a flower.” She closed her eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and searing heat overwhelming her.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asked her, and she shook her head, her handle on words slipping with every second. He clicked his tongue in disapproval and continued that maddening, delicious caress.
“Open your eyes, love. Burn me with those scorching brown eyes.” She did, and was confronted with his own heated gaze.
“I’m going to taste you now.” Her breath hitched and he made a sound of approval. She didn’t speak, just let him work, now anticipating what she knew he could make her feel. Instantly her body responded, heart racing as he brushed the flat of his tongue against her clitoris in a focused and unrelenting assault. Within seconds she felt her climax swirling in her again, but he moved away just before it could crest.
She cried in frustration, and he laughed with devilish satisfaction.
“The next time you come, I’ll be deep inside you.”
“Promises, promises,” she taunted breathlessly. “I’m ready, Evan, please.” She scissored her legs, skin prickling as he leaned over and grabbed a small bottle from the bed, then coated his member in a viscous liquid.
“Almond oil,” he said, just as the scent reached her. “It makes it easier.” That attention to her comfort disarmed her. For a man that loved to say how uncaring he was, Evan Sinclair was an awfully considerate and attentive lover.
“Look at me, mo chridhe. I want to see your face as we do this.” She felt his hardness kiss the entrance of her body and sucked in a breath bracing for him to push inside. Evan Sinclair would not be rushed. He slid into her body with agonizing control. Shallow thrusts until she could accommodate him. It was the most tender of invasions.
“So sweet, so good,” he groaned, then leaned in for a kiss.
“Evan,” she gasped. He pushed the hair out of her eyes, his eyes intent on her. Looking for signs of distress, she thought.
“I’m fine. I want more.” Something feral flashed in his eyes at her words, and he sheathed himself deeper. It felt so big, almost too much, but he slid in with excruciating moderation. There was a moment of searing pain, which he kissed her through, his tongue gliding with hers as their bodies fused together—until they were locked completely, and still she wanted more.
“Tell me how I feel inside you,” he asked, his voice raw.
What could she say?Possessed,whole,cherished? Any of those answers would be too intimate, too much like she believed this was real.
“So full,” she gasped, as he looked at her with a searching intensity that made her want to hide. “More,” she pleaded, arching against him. He gave her what she asked for, surging into her.
