Page 69 of Lela's Choice

“I’m sorry, this got out of hand.” He released her and started to inch away.

“That’s not what I’m trying to say.” Lela fumbled with the knot of her robe, struggling to untie it. She needed to look down, when she wanted to look at him, make sure he followed what she was telling him. The robe loosened, and she pulled it free, leaving a thin opening strip down the front.

“I’m not somenineteenth-century virgin. I know what it feels like to be wanted, to want. I can bring myself off. I’m not ashamed or frightened of our desire. I know what I’m asking you for. Make love to me, Hamish.”

* * *

THE CERTAINTY IN HERgaze pierced Hamish’s defences, scuttling the good intentions he’d tended like a newborn. His heart stalled at the roaring in his ears. She was offering a mating of equals. No past, no future, only now—an unparalleled gift. No games or tricks for his Miranda, just the generosity of spirit that was an integral part of her.

“Are you sure?” He was humbled by her honesty.

“Yes.” She was a dream he hadn’t dared to believe in.

Hamish lifted a hand to nudge her robe aside. Blood drained from his head to his groin, the caption “simply the best” making his mouth go dry.

His spare T-shirt skimmed her legs at mid-thigh. Gorgeous legs, the colour of a light Australian honey, and he craved the sweet taste of them. The shirt followed her curves, hugging her shoulders, flowing like liquid gold over her bra-less breasts, the fabric catching at her raised nipples before it dropped to her hips. It clung, then swayed, changing direction as she moved.

Shameless craving blasted through his hard-won caution.

Reaching forward, he slid her robe off one shoulder.

“You’re beautiful. Brave and beautiful.”

“So are you,” she whispered.

He shook his head, lifting his other hand to push the robe off her other shoulder. It slid down to pool where she kneeled. “T-shirt looks better on you than me.”

Hamish skimmed a not-quite-steady hand down her throat and across one breast, smiling when the nipple puckered in response to his touch, leaning forward to suckle the tight nub through the cotton. She gasped, the breathless murmur echoing in his head, inviting both urgency and tenderness. His gut clenched. He’d give her both if it killed him.

“Lie down with me.” He’d allow himself this interlude because—admit it, I can’t refuse you—he wanted to love her even if they had no future.

Scooping up his discarded robe with one hand, he threw it off the bed. His shirt came next, a swift action to drag it over his head, letting it join the robe on the floor. Laying back against the pillows, he knew his dark briefs outlined every inch of his need. He stretched out a hand, catching her fingers, coaxing her down beside him.

“I’ve wanted you since you stepped off that plane.” Hamish drew her towards him, savouring her moan of pleasure. She deserved lavish words of praise.

With soft kisses, he teased her, tormenting himself with her silken texture. Coaxing her mouth open with his tongue, he fed his need by mimicking lovemaking. His body strained with the effort of keeping the pace slow, while he waited for her to feel the lethargy that passion seduced, the languor of limbs stroked to the edge of reason, as well as the fire and heat.

“Tell me what you’d like.” He lifted his head to meet her dazed eyes, sure his were equally bedazzled, not sure if he could stop, but determined to give her a chance to change her mind. Her whimper of loss at even his small separation made him tremble in awe.

“You.” Her trust roared through him like a tornado through saplings, snapping his control.

Hamish stroked her through the tee, his movements increasingly urgent in response to her urging. He caressed her, with his hands, then his mouth, leaving damp patches where he suckled her breasts, before making his way lower. Trailing a line of kisses down her belly, he found where the cotton bunched at the apex of her thighs. Nudging the fabric aside with his mouth, he inhaled her scent. And kissed her there, where she was pure woman, hot and wet, waiting for him.

* * *

LELA EXPLODED IN Ablinding rush of sensation—like lightning ripping through her body, eclipsing the orgasms she gave herself. She let her head fall back and rocked against his mouth. His hands held her thighs steady while he loved her, absorbing the shocks and shudders rolling through her in waves. She cried out, rearing upright. He found her mouth with his, steadied her, and swallowed her whimpers of delight.

Heat, vulnerability, intimacy—a glorious symphony singing through her body.

He slid the shirt over her head before laying her back on the bed, caressing her belly, her breasts, arousing her again.

“My turn,” Lela breathed against his mouth. She gave an experimental wriggle, delighted by his groan when the movement insinuated her more deeply between his thighs. Testing his reaction, she undulated gently against him, a move heightening her excitement. He tightened his hold on her.

“Roll over,” she ordered against his ear, wrapping her arms around his chest. He rolled, his body slick with perspiration. Exulting in the power he gave her, she propped herself on his chest to ride him through the thin material separating them.

“Your wish is my command,” he gritted, the effort of control etched in his face.

Pushing herself back, she trailed her way down his body, replicating his actions by suckling first one nipple then the other, purposely slow, purposely provocative. Unbearably excited.

---