Page 40 of A Fortunes of Texas Christmas (Fortunes of Texas)

She smiled and then began eating. Amersen wasn’t particularly hungry, but he ate a little, and when she was done with her meal, he offered her a selection from the desserts he’d ordered. She tried a little of both the tiramisu and the chocolate-orange mousse, and he watched as she licked the spoon, rolling her eyes back delightedly.

“God, that is divine,” she said and caressed the mousse in her mouth with her tongue in a motion that was so damned erotic he went hard instantly. “Better than sex.”

Amersen had every intention of proving her wrong. “Want to bet?”

She laughed loudly, and her tongue danced over her lower lip. Without another word, she pushed back her chair and stood, had a sip of wine and then held out her hand. “Mr. Beaudin, I believe you promised me a night I wouldn’t forget.”

“That I did,” he said and took her hand.

The bedroom was as luxurious as the rest of the suite, but Amersen only noticed Robin. He flicked on the bedside lamp, keeping their fingers linked. Her creamy skin was like a beacon, and he fought the overwhelming urge to trace his tongue along her collarbone. He wanted to touch her so much he ached; he wanted to find out what she liked, to kiss her deeply and hear her moans and then hear her plead and whisper his name over and over.

Doucement...doucement, Beaudin...slowly.

“Are you okay?” she asked, watching him intently.

Amersen urged her toward him. “Fine. You?”

She nodded. “Kiss me,” she begged. “Kiss me before I wake up from this dream.”

“It’s not a dream,” he promised and hovered his mouth above hers. “I’m here. You’re here.”

He captured her mouth, drawing her closer, feeling her lovely curves pressed against him. Her tongue was quickly wrapped around his, her breath shallow, her hands on his back. Amersen changed angles, moving his mouth across hers, going deeper, hotter, wetter, until he had to take a long, shuddering breath. He kissed her jaw and then the spot below her ear where a pulse beckoned. He molded his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, then threaded them around her waist. She searched for his lips again, taking his tongue deep in her mouth. He anchored a hand at her nape, spreading fingers through her silky hair, going even deeper into her sweet mouth. And he was consumed...by heat and desire and the knowledge that he wanted her like he’d never wanted a woman before.

He lifted his head, watched as she sucked in air as though it pained her, and met her gaze. Then she pulled back, chest heaving, her lips reddened from his kiss. And she looked like some kind of exotic goddess, with her mussed-up hair and slightly swollen mouth. Amersen kept his gaze locked with hers, his entire body rigid, watching in a kind of lustful agony as she undid the zipper on her dress and slowly let the velvet garment drop to her feet. In a lilac lace bra and thong and her killer heels, she was all smooth curves, her beautiful skin dappled in the lamplight. If she had any imperfections, he didn’t notice them. She was pure beauty. And for the next few hours, she was his.

He took her hand and led her to the bed, gently easing her back against the covers. And he kissed her again, and again. Deep, hot kisses that made him harder than he believed possible. But he wasn’t going to rush anything. He was going to love her right. He wanted to pleasure her, to feel her writhe, to watch her skin flush, to taste and touch every part of her.

Her hands were in his hair as he trailed his mouth down her jaw and neck and lower, to her breasts, which were fuller than he’d dared allow himself to imagine. The bra clipped at the front, and he flicked it open with one deft move. He heard her delighted chuckle, and then she arched her back as he took one straining rosy nipple into his mouth. It pebbled against his tongue, sending a shot of arousal to his groin that was so acute it was almost painful.

Then he went lower, kissing her rib cage and belly, gently kneading her breasts with his hands as his mouth trailed down her stomach and farther, until finally he was between her thighs. He dragged the thong aside and kissed her intimately, finding the spot that would give her the most pleasure. She almost bucked off the bed, but he held her hips firm, caressing her with his mouth, finding the tiny nub and gently rolling her clitoris with his tongue. Within minutes she came apart, moaning loudly as she climaxed, and Amersen experienced a deep surge of gratification that consumed him to his very soul.

She was panting, drawing in long breaths, her hand across her face. “Oh, I was wrong.”

He moved, getting to his knees, looking at her. “Wrong?”

She moved her hand from her face and met his gaze. “That is so much better than chocolate.”

He grinned. “Told you so.”

She shifted onto her elbows and looked him over. “Are you going to take off your clothes anytime soon?”

Amersen glanced down. He was still fully dressed, while she was naked except for her thong. He looked at her breasts, noticing that her nipples were hard, and her skin still glowed with the flush of her climax. She was easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And then he had his clothes off in about three seconds flat.

“Now,” she said, smiling seductively as she crooked a finger, beckoning him. “My turn.”

* * *

Not that she had a lot of experience for comparison, but he was big. That was the first thing Robin noticed as Amersen ditched his clothes like a man possessed. The second thing she noticed was that he had a perfectly sculptured physique—smooth tanned skin, broad shoulders, a flat washboard belly and a Celtic tattoo circling one bicep. And she managed to notice it all while she was still pulsating from experiencing the most torturously intense orgasm of her life.

And then all she could think about was how she wanted more of him.

All of him.

By the time he was back on the bed, he’d dragged her thong down her thighs and was kissing her hotly—mindless, drugging kisses that made her abandon all coherent thought. His hands were all over her, over her shoulders, down her back, her behind, between her legs. He teased and caressed; he urged and encouraged. He was, she realized as she came again some minutes later, the most utterly unselfish and astonishing lover she had ever had.

And the more they touched, the more she learned. She discovered she could make him tremble by kissing his neck. She could make him moan by tracing her tongue over his navel. When she took his hard length in her hand, he offered words of encouragement that might have shocked her, but his sexy accent was like a potent aphrodisiac and drove her to do more. There was nothing particularly practiced or skilled about her technique, just an eagerness to please, and that was obviously enough. She touched him freely, with her hands, with her mouth, making him crazy, making him laugh, making him moan.

That was what stunned her the most. Not the erotic heat. Not the mind-blowing pleasure. But the way they were completely in tune with each other. There was no awkwardness, no reserve. Just complete and unabashed trust.

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