He
grasped her other hand, now holding both. "I care. I like for
you to be different."
She
had already learned that if he meant to hold her hand, he would
hold her hand. She glanced about warily, knowing there was no
escape. Brazen seductiveness gleamed in his eyes and echoed through
his body in minute, sinuous movements.
"You're
foxed," she accused, futilely tugging on her hand.
"Your
fault. Kiss me, Sophie."
Sophie
scooted back, pulling against his grip. Suddenly, he let go and
her hands flung wide. Lucas tucked his own behind his head, against
the stack of pillows and grinned.
"Kiss
me," he said again. It was the same beguiling, whispering, caressing
voice of the Toad in her dreams.
"I'd
sooner kiss a toad," she replied, lifting her nose to a properly
arrogant level, yet she leaned, closer, closer.
"But
I am a toad, Sophie, you
said so yourself. Kiss me."
She
wanted the long, strong fingers of his elegant hands to touch
her again, the way they had only moments before, but they stayed
where they willed, behind his head on the lofty tower of pillows,
unwilling to give without receiving.
From
the first moment she had seen him so long ago, she had wanted
the taste of his kiss. In her dreams, in her waking thoughts she
had imagined how their seductively ornate curves would flex to
meet her lips, how the very touch of them would sear through her
like white-hot lightning.
Kiss
him? Oh, no, she must not! She leaned closer, closer, almost touching,
almost, almost, almost. She must not.
"Sophie."
Her name more breath than word, enticing her, calling her like
a siren, out of a turbulent sea.
As
unstoppable as the wind, they touched. As inevitable as the kiss,
the white-hot lightning sizzled through her. His fingers laced
through her hair as it tumbled and splayed around them like a
dark curtain. With a sudden jolt and a moan as dark as Africa,
his body flexed erotically to meet and mold to hers. All the emptiness
in her soul, every crack and crater, filled with parti-colored
passion.
She
gasped at the sensation, everything she had expected, more than
she could have imagined, like the dramatic brilliance of a multi-hued
sunset, came to life within her. Oh, yes, she had wanted this,
and didn't care about the cost.
She
wanted the way his hand trailed down her spine, the astonishing
invasion of his tongue that nuzzled against hers, lips that tugged
at hers, playfully entreating.
What
was so wrong with giving him what she had wanted forever to give?
Whatever she feared seemed somehow unimportant with the promise
of his passion. He might not love her, but he wanted her. Couldn't
that be enough? Couldn't she make it be enough? Maybe he would
never find out, and maybe...
Lucas
ran his hand down her spine to cup her derriere, bracing her to
him, taking her with him as he rolled atop her. His magnificent
body pressed into hers, his excitement becoming hers as he eased
onto her, pinning her against the mattress.
"Lucas,
be careful, your knee!" she protested.
His
voice rumbled up from deep inside him, a growl of desperate need.
"The knee be damned."