Melanie let her gaze lower over him as he kicked the white slacks aside. He was a wall of muscle, a warrior, his waist lean, his abs rippled with definition. Just to look at him made her body quiver with want. To touch, to taste.
Jack watched her look and felt himself harden to near painful proportions. She was open to him, bare and uninhibited. She had no fears, only need in her green eyes, and when she clapped her legs around his waist and drew him down, he wanted only to give her pleasure, to make her as delirious as she was making him.
His arousal brushed her center and she arched, the move hungry with demand. But he didn’t give her what she craved, and laid a moist path over her mouth, her cheek, down her throat.
“I want you now,” she moaned.
“Did I ever tell you that in training we have to stand in the water for twelve hours in the dark?” he said casually, then his lips closed over her nipple and he drew it deeply into his mouth.
“No. Ahh, Jack.”
“I love it when you say my name like that.” He tasted her other nipple, feeling her writhe with each pass of his tongue. “We learned patience.” He slid lower, taking his time tasting her soft, smooth skin. “No food, no water, but we can see it. It’s on the shore. It makes the need worse. To see it, smell it and not be able to have it. So your patience has to be greater than your need.”
“Yeah, I…oh, yes…”
He kissed her belly, then slid lower. Running his hands under her spine, down her buttocks, the backs of her thighs, he nipped and licked, his mouth circling her abdomen, yet never touching where she craved. “The feast is in plain sight and we can’t have it.”
“Uh-huh.” She knew she should be paying attention, but it was useless. Her thoughts were swimming in pleasure, her nerves and body tingling with anticipation. His mouth passed over her skin, leaving a burning trail of want, for more, much more. She could scarcely breathe. And why was he even talking?
He smiled, knowing she wasn’t listening and wondering how he could get the words out when his need to feel her body trap his had his blood pounding like an engine. Her fingers balled in the bedspread, and her hips rose in invitation.
“Well.” The heat of his words breezed over her liquid center. “I was never very good at it,” he said, then tasted her.
She came unglued for him. It was what he adored about her. She never held back. He laved and stroked her, his movements languid and succulent. She gasped his name over and over, told him how good she felt, that she wanted him inside her, and her erotic words nearly undid him.
He pushed her thigh farther over his shoulder and drove deeper, letting her come to the edge of rapture, then slowing and taking her up the peak again.
“Jack,” she screamed, and he rose up.
She labored for air, wrapping her limbs around him. “Now, Jack, please.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “Now.”
He lifted her farther onto the bed and shifted between her thighs. Braced above her, he met her gaze.
Melanie went still, her nerve endings exposed. Her heart exposed. She’d wanted this for so long, and gazing up at him, she reached between them and closed her fingers around his arousal.
Then she let the silken tip of him slide against her.
“Melanie, honey.”
She smiled like a cat and guided him. He sank into her slowly and she watched his muscles tighten, his head drop back for a second or two. His entire body flexed as he pushed and filled her completely.
“Mine,” she said, and moved, her hip retreating. He plunged. “Don’t you forget it.” Her voice cracked and she pushed harder against him, demanding, claiming.
He met her tempo, a smooth cadence heightening their pleasure with each stroke. Jack felt it climb up his spine, shatter his will. She touched his face, kissed his mouth, his chin. Jack grabbed the headboard, leveling himself, watching her as he left and plunged into her body. She stretched beneath him, long and willowy, utterly feminine in her passion. He was aware of her every nuance, every movement and sound she made. Yet it was the tears in her eyes that snagged his soul and tore through his heart.
He called her name, his chest vised with tenderness. Desire slapped at them like waves, splashing over them. The slick folds of her gripped him, drew him back.
Pleasure, it beat. Love is here, it whispered.
Soft and womanly, she yielded to his strength, his power.
Bronze captured in a delicate pearl, he was her prisoner.
Their passion was like a living thing, curling around them, simmering on the edge of their skin. It throbbed from one to the other, twisting until they were more one being, than simply two joined. He held her gaze, never breaking eye contact, never ceasing his movements.