Janelle Denison - Private Pleasures

All doubts fled the minute her hands landed on his chest and smoothed aside the open vee of his shirt until it tightened around his biceps. He attempted to reach for her, heard the rip of material as he stretched his arms, and realized that she'd effectively turned the tables on him. He couldn't reach her.

He caught the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes seconds before she leaned into him, nuzzling her mouth against his neck. He groaned, his body shuddering as her tongue tasted and her teeth scraped along his throat. Her palms were cool against his heated flesh, seeking, searching and finding his nipples, then lower, skimming along the taut flesh of his belly. The buttons on his shirt hindered her exploration, and she let out a frustrated sound. Then, to his dazed amazement, she grabbed the sides of his shirt and yanked, sending the buttons flying across the room.

He stared, momentarily speechless. Damn. Mariah knew how to please him well and good in bed, turning him on with her sensual responses and her eagerness to discover different variations of making love. She'd initiated sex plenty of times, but he couldn't recall her ever being so assertive, so sexually persuasive in her pursuit of what she wanted.

And what she wanted was his love.

He shook his head, confusion swirling with the drugging lure of desire. "Mariah, baby…"

She gently pushed him backward, until his shoulders pressed against the wall beside the hearth. Before he could issue another word her mouth covered his and she gave him the silkiest, sexiest French kiss he'd ever tasted. Denying his need for her became a distant thought.

Shrugging out of his shirt, he pulled her body tight against his and ran his hands over whatever bare, warm flesh he could. He came up against the barrier of her panties and growled impatiently, though his fingers managed to find their way under the elastic band and skim over a soft thatch of damp curls.

She broke their kiss and pushed away his hands, her breathing ragged. "Not yet, Grey. I'm not through with you."

"Not through?" The question wheezed out of him. What else did she intend to do to him?

She shook her head and smiled softly. "I don't think you quite understand just how much I love you. I want to give you all the love I feel for you in my heart. I want to give you all the love you've never had."

And in that moment, he wanted it, too.

"Let me love you." She placed lingering kisses along his shoulder and lower, where her tongue swirled around his nipple. She whispered in the shadowed room, "You taste so good," before sinking to her knees in front of him.

His breath left him in a tight whoosh of air, deflating his lungs. She pressed her mouth to the taut muscles rippling in his belly, then tossed her head back and held his gaze while she worked his belt loose and lowered his zipper. She pulled his slacks and briefs down, and he sprang free, fully, painfully erect. She swept the garments off, along with his shoes and socks, and tossed them aside, leaving him completely naked and more restlessly inflamed than he'd ever been before.

Her hands skimmed up his tense thighs and over his hips, her thumbs grazing that jutting, masculine part of him that wanted her touch more than he wanted his next breath.

His wish became reality. Her fingers circled his swollen shaft and stroked him. Closing his eyes, he tangled his fingers in her silky hair, groaning at the pleasure consuming him.

She wasn't done driving him insane. The wet heat of her mouth enveloped him, velvet soft and wicked as sin. He gritted his teeth, his body jerking and shuddering in warning.

He swore bluntly. "Stop," he rasped, pulling her back up the length of him. Framing her face in his hands, he kissed her while backing her toward the rug before the fire. Finally he released her, watching as she lowered herself to the floor and lay back, then lifted her hips to remove her panties. She dropped the flimsy piece of material onto the floor, then parted her legs, still clad in those sexy stockings, to make room for him in between. The firelight made her skin golden, made her eyes fever bright with emotion. He'd never seen such an enticing, erotic vision, and his body responded with a demanding, powerful surge of need.

She touched the swell of her breast, ran her fingers lightly over her belly. "Love me, Grey," she whispered huskily.

Oh, man, how could he not? The thought came up out of nowhere, startling him. But it felt good and right, and he didn't fight it. For the moment, for the night, he'd give her anything she asked.

Settling himself over her, he locked their hands at the side of her head. "Tell me you're still on the Pill," he said desperately, his body quaking with a need he'd be hard-pressed to deny. "Because I didn't bring any condoms with me."

She curled her legs around the back of his thighs and urged him forward, where she was hot and wet and ready for him. "It's safe," she whispered.

His body shuddered in relief. Staring into her dark blue eyes, he slowly pushed into her tight, welcoming sheath. They shared a mutual groan of pleasure, and she arched with a sharp gasp and raised her knees around his waist, taking him deeper and deeper still with every measured stroke.

Despite how many times he'd made love with her, he suddenly couldn't get enough of her, couldn't get deep enough inside her. He wanted to be a part of her, in every elemental way that mattered. Heart, body and soul.

Love. Oh, God, no.

The awesome emotions within him unraveled, breaking on a wave so powerful his body shuddered. He thrust hard and fast, triggering a breathless cry from Mariah as they both reached the peak and soared over the crest together.

When he regained a normal breathing pattern he moved off Mariah and pulled her close to his side, cradling her in his arms. She buried her face in his neck and let out a long, content sigh.

"I love you," she murmured.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, afraid to speak the words she longed to hear.

HE LOVED HER.

Mariah made good on her promise to eliminate any lingering doubts from his mind. For the next two days Grey had denied the inevitable. Then he'd come to terms with the fact that the emotions he felt for Mariah were exactly what she'd labeled them. Love. What else could explain the heart-pounding thrill when he was with her, the frenzy of emotions when she looked at him in that soft way of hers or the huge ache of missing her when they were apart for the shortest amount of time?

No other woman had ever evoked such a myriad of emotions from him, but then he'd never remained with one woman long enough to allow anything stronger than a physical attraction to develop. But Mariah… Well, from the very first he'd seen something different in her, a special, caring quality that had drawn and captivated him. Since her, he'd found no other woman could compare in strength, intelligence, beauty and stubbornness.

Smiling, Grey turned his Jeep Cherokee onto the narrow street that wound its way up to the cabin. He'd slipped out almost two hours earlier to get dinner while Mariah had been napping-a well-earned rest after an afternoon of the most emotionally and physically satisfying lovemaking he'd ever experienced. He'd intended to pick up a quick bite at a deli in the village and return before she woke, but as he'd passed that jewelry store they'd seen last weekend, he'd stopped and made an impulsive purchase certain to convey the feelings in his heart.

Lave. As he reflected on the course of his relationship with Mariah, he realized that he'd loved her almost from the beginning. His heart had known, but his mind had refused to acknowledge all the obvious signs. As a direct result of Mariah's determination to make him face past resentments and see his emotions for what they were, his heart and mind were finally in harmony.

And the knowledge scared the hell out of him.

Braking to a stop in front of the cabin, he killed the engine and stared at the darkened structure. Despite the fact that he admitted to loving Mariah, he couldn't help but wonder how long this wonderful feeling would last. Another week? Another month? A year or two? How long would it be before Mariah realized he truly wasn't the marriageable type? That he wasn't the kind of man to love and nurture children? His edges were too rough, his soul too jaded to think he was equipped to handle a child's needs.

He had no ready answers for any of the questions he'd asked himself. All he knew was that for now, he wanted to savor and enjoy the precious commodity he'd found in Mariah. He wanted to share time with her, love her, and when it ended, part as friends and have no regrets. It was as much as he was willing to give, for her sake as much as his own. Certainly after their week together and everything they'd shared, she understood the reasons why he couldn't give her marriage and a family.

But he was willing to offer her the strongest commitment he knew, one that came straight from his heart and soul. After the closeness they'd established, and the love he was willing to declare, he was confident she would say yes this time to his proposal.

Grabbing their dinner, he slid from the vehicle and headed up the walkway. It was dark inside the cabin, but he smiled when he heard the shower running. He debated on joining Mariah, but decided they'd never eat if he offered to scrub her back. Considering they hadn't had a meal since breakfast, they needed nourishment.

In the kitchen, he unpacked their dinner, a small feast of large peeled shrimp, cocktail sauce, fresh croissants and pasta salad. He set one place setting, then lit the votive candle he'd found in the cupboard and placed it in the center of the table. Slipping his surprise beneath a paper napkin just to the side of the one plate, he turned off the light, settled in the high-back wooden chair and waited…

Less than ten minutes later, he heard Mariah come out of the bathroom and call out tentatively. "Grey?"

"In the kitchen," he said, and drew a deep breath that caught in his throat when she glided through the door.

Dressed in scarlet red silk and lace that revealed more than it covered, and bathed in candlelight, Mariah was a vision of temptation. Floral, see-through lace shaped her breasts and swept in a diagonal slash to her left hip. Silky material draped to her ankles in soft cascading folds, but it was the thigh-high slit that captured his attention and made him wonder if she was wearing any panties.

She wasn't supposed to have found the negligee he'd purchased on a whim, but he was glad as hell she had. Swallowing hard, he managed a strangled, "Hi."

"Hi, yourself," she said, her voice husky. She moved toward him, hips swaying, the creamy expanse of thigh peeking and retreating enticingly through that wicked slit.

Blood pooled low in his lap and his body tightened in a subtle, but unmistakable way. She looked sexy, feminine and more provocative than a dream. The hair piled on top of her head in a loose knot made his fingers itch to pull out the pins and run his fingers through the silky strands.

"I was putting away our clothes and came across this gown," she said, stopping just beyond his reach. She dampened her bottom lip with her tongue and ran a finger lightly down the sheer, scalloped lace outlining her full breasts that nearly spilled from the bodice. "Unless you have a fetish I don't know about, I'm assuming you bought it for me?"

"Yes." He watched her breasts swell from her touch, and her nipples thrust against the lace. His mouth watered. "You fill it out much better than I ever could."

She smiled, tracing that same wicked finger along the strip of lace slashing to her hip. "Did you buy it when you bought me that peach chemise?"

A loaded question. He remembered that she'd expected a nightgown like this one from him that first night, and although he'd given her the conservative chemise, his thoughts had been on the red, racy number. "Guilty as charged."

She tsk-tsked him, and touching the thigh exposed by the slit, she trailed her fingers upward. His anxious gaze followed. "You're a bad boy, Grey Nichols."

"Very bad," he agreed. And feeling more naughty with each passing second. The things he wanted to do to her went beyond illicit and carnal…and she seemed more than willing.

She attempted to look thoughtful, but came across as a sultry vixen instead. "I'll have to think of a fitting punishment."

His heart leapt in anticipation, that wild, tempestuous feeling called love swirling within him. "Trust me, sweetheart, just looking at you in that scrap of nothing is pure torment."