Authors: Stephanie James
The hand on her waist slid around to her stomach and moved upward to settle just under the full curve of her breast.
"So you don't like my truck-stop manners? That's unfortunate, isn't it? You didn't seem to like my more gentlemanly behavior, either. You're a hard woman to please,
Dara
Bancroft. But I'll try...."
Dara
opened her lips to annihilate him verbally, but his mouth came down on hers before she could get the words out.
"Yale!" she managed in a muffled voice, and then the heated mastery of his kiss overwhelmed her senses. His mouth was like a narcotic, she realized dimly. A drugging, overridingly powerful thing that roused her emotions as nothing else had ever done. If she didn't stop him soon, she wouldn't be able to do so.
His fingers followed the under curve of her breast, seeking the nipple and finding it easily. She should have left on her bra,
Dara
thought wretchedly. Now his hand was shaping the softness of her as if the dress she wore was only a nightgown. The sensations he was causing began undermining her will power, urging compliance.
"Hank was right," Yale said huskily against her throat as he dragged his mouth away from hers. "You have got what a man needs in bed."
"
Don't talk
to me like that, Yale. We both know you've come a long way from the kind of world where men treat women like this!"
"I've got news for you, honey,'' he murmured, letting the tip of his tongue touch the rapidly beating pulse at the base of her throat
. "
Some things a man doesn't leave behind."
"No!" she gasped as he pulled her against his naked chest and reached for the zipper at her nape. "You're a gentleman, damn it! I'm holding you to that!"
His fingers hesitated, the zipper halfway open. "What makes you think I would have behaved any differently if I'd gotten you into bed tonight while I was still in my gentlemanly role?" His lips burned on her earlobe now, and she wedged her hands against the strong chest.
"We would never have wound up in bed like this if you hadn't taken over the evening!"
Dara
wailed.
"I really don't feel like arguing over whose fault this is," he soothed, lowering the zipper sensuously down to the base of her spine. "And don't try telling me you don't want me. I know what you were doing to me on that dance floor back at the bar and I know how you were responding." "You don't understand!"
That brought a deep laugh from the back of his throat. "I understand, honey. Don't worry about that!" His fingers danced wickedly up her spine as she struggled futilely to lever herself away from his chest When they reached her naked shoulder, the bold fingertip slid under the fabric of the dress bodice and pushed it forward, exposing the rounded femininity beneath.
Dara
gasped, knowing that by now both his eyes and her own were adjusted to the darkness. He could see what his hands had revealed.
"Yale! Stop it! Please!" The cry was torn hoarsely from her throat as he lowered his dark amber head to taste the sweetness of her breasts. Her fingers curled unconsciously into the muscles of his shoulders and she heard him groan.
"You don't mean that," he rasped, his tongue circling a nipple, urging a physical response.
"Yes! Yes, I do, damn you! Please, Yale. This isn't the way I wanted things to be between us. It's too soon. We have to get to know each other. I want you to..." Her words trailed off. How could she tell him she wanted his love, not merely his desire? He would never understand how she could have fallen so completely for him in such a short period of time.
"You want me to what, sweetheart?" he whispered deeply, his teeth closing gently around the nipple his tongue had drawn forth. "Tell me. I'm willing to please...."
"I want you to stop making love to me!" She was lying through her teeth but she spoke the words with considerable forcefulness.
He stilled for an instant and
Dara
, too, froze, waiting for his reaction. When his head eventually lifted and his eyes met hers with a directness that sent a shiver through her limbs,
Dara
almost called back her own words.
Almost but not quite.
The future was what mattered between them. To preserve that she had to protect the present
"Are you sure that's what you want honey?" he murmured coaxingly, his hand softly cupping one breast.
"I'm...I'm sure," she vowed, unable to look away from the seductive expression in the hazel gaze. "Please, Yale."
"I bet you sell a lot of stock with that earnest little look, don't you?"
"Yale!"
He sighed. "You're old enough to know better than to play with fire,
Dara
."
"I never meant things to get so out of hand," she said contritely. "I only wanted to know more about you and somehow..."
"Couldn't resist opening Pandora's
box
, could you?" He grinned, leaning back against the pillows. She felt the sexual tension seep out of him and drew a deep breath of relief—relief tinged with regret, she was forced to admit privately.
"Was all this in the nature of teaching me a lesson?" she complained ruefully.
"No," Yale growled, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "I suppose I'd forgotten a few of the things that were still in the box,
myself
." His eyes closed and suddenly he looked tired.
"How long did you drive a truck, Yale?"
Dara
asked, knowing quite suddenly that she was safe.
The amber lashes flicked open immediately and hazel eyes gleamed in warning. "You really don't know when to stop, do you? Your curiosity must have gotten you into a lot of trouble over the years!"
"Not really. I've never been quite this curious about another person before!' she confessed.
He stared at her for a moment and then growled a soft command. "Go to sleep,
Dara
."
A little belatedly, perhaps,
Dara
acknowledged that it
was
time to stop. Without another word, she pulled away from the inviting proximity of his body, her hand brushing awkwardly against the material of his jockey shorts. Curling on her side with her back to him,
Dara
forced herself to stare at the wall until her eyes finally closed in sleep.
But her dreams were filled with fleeting promises of a happiness she craved, a happiness connected with a hazel-eyed man with honey-amber hair. In sleep her body remembered the feel of his hands, the strength of his chest and thighs and the laughter which sparked to life occasionally in the hazel gaze. There had never been a man like this one in her life, and he had even managed to invade her dreams.
It wasn't the morning sun which called
Dara
out of a warm sleep some time later. The shabby little motel room was still quite dark. It was a dream which was
moving
her into a drowsy, languid state of awareness.
A dream which had followed her back into real life.
Half asleep,
Dara's
body reacted luxuriously to the warmth of a hand on her thigh. She knew that hand. She would know its touch anywhere, and her body accepted it instinctively.
Blissfully she turned toward the source of the gentle, insistent demand, her legs parting of their own volition. The half-conscious feminine invitation was accepted immediately. The hand on her leg began lazy designs which led to the soft inside of her thigh and simultaneously her mouth was warmly, tenderly invaded.
It was like drinking hot spiced wine, she thought dazedly, her arms moving to pull closer the source of this smooth, heated seduction. Her fingers closed first on the hard thrust of a shoulder and then they twined themselves into short, thick hair. Hair that she knew intuitively was the color of dark honey.
The perfect shade.
"Oh..." The moan was from
her own
throat, thick with a growing urgency. It was as if her dream was merging with reality.
The masculine groan which echoed her soft cry was low and hoarse with undisguised male need. She responded to it, offering herself in an age-old desire to please.
There were no words. Somehow, far back in her foggy mind,
Dara
knew words would have destroyed the dreamlike quality of the moment, and nothing on earth must be allowed to do that.
There was a curious floating sensation as the material which seemed to interfere with the searching movements of the demanding hands was slipped away. When it was gone,
Dara
felt the glowing sensation increase a hundredfold. This was what she wanted; this was where she wished to be tonight and every night.
Eyes closed, she let the accumulating impressions pile up on her senses. Gently rough fingertips glided along the inside of her thigh until they closed on the heart of her throbbing desire. The electricity coursed through her veins, causing her nails to bite deeply into a taut male shoulder and score their way down to a lean waist.
Silently she called his name over and over, and then the word was a low, audible moan on her lips. It was the only word allowed in that moment out of time.
"Yale, oh, my darling, Yale!"
"
Dara
, sweet womanly
Dara
. I knew you were dangerous the instant I met you! And now it's too late. Much too late..."
The husky confession pleased her enormously and
Dara
curled closer, her hips arching into the touch of his possessive hand, trading her feminine secrets for the satisfaction Yale could provide.
"Yes, sweetheart," he growled, his lips moving down her throat, pausing to caress her breasts and then trailing down even farther to bury themselves in her curving midsection. "Give yourself to me tonight. I want all of you. All you have to give...."
She gasped as he dipped a wet kiss into her navel and then moved on, stringing kisses along the flare of a hip. His hand slipped down to grasp an ankle, tenderly forcing her legs even farther apart, and then she felt his teeth first feather and then nip the vulnerable inner length of her thigh.
Convulsively, her fingers locked in the dark honey of his hair and her body lifted into his urgent, demanding lips and hands.
"Oh, Yale.
Please, please..."
"Tell me what you want," he rasped thickly, sliding his hands under her buttocks and holding her body still while he rose to settle himself between her legs. "Tell me,
Dara
!"
The command was punctuated by tiny, velvet kisses along her stomach.
"Love me, Yale!" The cry was a feminine order of the first magnitude. "Please, please make love to me!"
He inched slowly upward, his hands sliding along her waist to palm her breasts as his mouth explored her silky skin in their wake. She was vividly aware of the heavy maleness of him, knew it would soon pour over her in a wave.
Hungrily she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him down into her waiting body. Her lips buried themselves in his throat as he loomed over her and she clutched at the tensely muscled back.
"I knew it had to end like this between us tonight," Yale gasped, shuddering as her hands clung to him, dragging him under into the rippling tide of her. "Sooner or later it had to end like this...."
"Yes, oh, yes," she panted, her breath coming in short, excited gasps that lifted her full breasts and crushed them softly against his chest.
Somehow it wasn't until she actually felt his unmistakable hardness against her that the last of the dream finally faded. Perhaps it was the stunning sensation of imminent masculine possession, or perhaps it was because she finally opened her eyes and took in the full significance of the cheap motel room. Whatever the cause,
Dara
was finally, fully aroused from her dreamlike state.
What was she doing? This wasn't the way she had meant to conclude the evening! It was too soon, much too soon! They needed time....
"Yale, no!
Wait, please, wait! I didn't want this to happen...!"
"It's too late now," he gritted against her mouth. "I'm going to make you mine. There's nothing in this universe that could stop me!"
He fastened his lips over hers, silencing her protest, and then everything seemed to explode around and in her at once. He held her with fierce urgency, forcing his tongue into her mouth even as his hardness took her completely.