Page 36 of Prime Time

“But I turned down the refill.”

“A pity.”

“Not exactly,” he drawled. His legs drifted closer to hers. She felt the hairs, like harbingers of caresses yet to come, tickle her skin only a moment before his thighs were rubbing against hers. “I figured why go to all that bother when there’s someone under my own roof ready to do anything for the sake of research?”

His words were spoken softly, but his eyes glittered like slate. Rarely had Andy Malone been afraid. Her self-confidence didn’t leave much room for a weak emotion like that. Cautious, yes. Fearful, no. Now, with Lyon’s hard body radiating anger like a furnace, she was afraid.

“You’re wrong. I’m not ready to do anything with you.”

He laughed without humor. “Oh, yes, you are.” His eyes dropped to her breasts, swelling voluptuously over the top of the bikini. “You’ve been waving the red flag at the bull for days. It’s time you came across.” Before she could stop him, he had thrust his hand beneath the fabric and lifted her breast loose from the material.

“Lyon, no,” she cried softly.

“Yes.” His mouth came down on hers hard, savagely, angrily. His tongue was like a whip, lashing and stinging her mouth everywhere it struck. She tried to twist free, but his hand tangling in her wet hair forbade it. His mouth persisted with that punishing, bruising kiss while the hand on her breast insulted her. Unlike this morning in her room, when his touch had been almost worshipful, he fondled her now with careless disdain.

His body closed what small space remained between them, and cemented her to the side of the pool. He forced her thighs apart. From chest to knees he pressed her to him lustfully.

“You’re going to have to do better than this, Ms. Malone. You want to know all my deep, dark secrets, don’t you? Aren’t they worth more to you than one uncooperative kiss? Hm?”

The violation began again. The kiss was harder. He released her hair to slide his hand down her back to her hips, which he molded to his palm as he fastened her body to his. She felt the flat, hair-silky plane of his stomach muscles against her own. His heaving breaths matched her own. And against her middle—oh, God—a hard and insistent pressure that declared him man and her woman.

Despite the violence of the embrace, despite his anger and her wounded spirit, she felt desire beginning to uncoil and snake through her body. She fought it, cursed herself, cursed him for awakening such a treacherous frailty. Yet even as her mind hardened against him, her body softened and became malleable.

He lifted his head immediately when she ceased to struggle. Long, ponderous moments ticked by as he watched her, asking a million silent questions that she answered with sincerity pouring like tears out of her golden eyes, past the wet, spiky lashes. He placed his hands on the deck of the pool and floated the length of his arms away from her, allowing her to escape him if she chose.

She didn’t. All her attention was focused on him. Slowly he inclined his head toward her. Touching only her mouth, he kissed her. Gone was the brutality. He conquered this time, not with force, but with finesse, his tongue an instrument of pleasure that ignited deeply embedded fires as it caressed the inside of her mouth in symbolic penetration.

Her hands came up like a blind man’s to touch the rigid planes of his face, hoping to find the mellow expression that she had seen before. Momentarily he closed his eyes and allowed her fingertips to wander as they would, exploring, examining … loving.

She traced the arch of the sleek black brows, the bridge of the nose, the sensual curve of his mouth. His lips opened and caught a daring fingertip between them. He worried the pad of it with his teeth, then with his tongue. She held her breath as his tongue stroked downward the entire length of her finger and then slid between the base of it and the next one, stroking the sensitive skin. She uttered a small cry, and her body reflexively arched against his. His eyes flew open.

Then he was kissing her again, with hunger tamed by tenderness. His hand found her breasts again, bared now by his swift and careful removal of the bikini top. Her nipples became firm and erect in his palms as he covered her. His caressing fingers rewarded them for their ready response. Gently, gently.

She made no protest when his hand slid beneath the bottom of her bikini and eased it down over her hips. With slow, graceful movements of her legs between his, it floated free. He clasped her nakedness to his. Desire was kept banked for a moment as they delighted only in the feel of each other, contrasting textures, forms.

He released her to hoist himself over the edge of the pool, then extended his hand and helped lift her out of the water. Dripping, he led them into the darkened cabana. They didn’t speak, lest they alert anyone to this midnight tryst. Not that either of them at that moment was ashamed of what was about to happen, only that it was too precious, too private, to share.

He squeezed her hand and then released it. In the darkness he found the large bath sheets stored in the closet. Taking one out, he quickly spread it on the wide lounge in the cool, dark room. She approached him in the dark. He sat on the lounge, took her hand again, and pulled her toward him.

Moonlight was her only garment as he caressed her. The fullness of her breasts, their aroused crests, were admired and adored. His hands encircled her rib cage, and he massaged his thumbs down the furrow between them.

“Appendectomy?” he asked, tracing the thin scar on her abdomen.

“Yes.”

Turning her around, his teeth took a delicate bite out of the side of her waist. Pivoting her again, he kissed her where her spine curved into the small of her back. His mouth opened over the skin lightly sprinkled with white down. He dragged his tongue through it.

“Lyon,” she breathed.

He brought her back around to face him and leaned forward, his mouth hovering over her navel. He delved into it with his t

ongue and found a few drops of water there.

He looked up at her and smiled. “Chlorine never tasted so good.”

She laughed softly and riffled through his hair, which was drying now. Her laughter became short, halting breaths as his kisses continued across her belly to her thighs. This lack of restraint was new to her. Robert had seen her naked, of course, but she never remembered a time when she had stood like this and watched as he adored her nudity. Never had his hands caressed, nor his lips kissed the way Lyon’s were. Nor would she have welcomed such intimacy.

Why then was she standing in tingling excitement and allowing him to do this? Why was her heart expanding with pride in her body, when she’d always been self-conscious about her femininity before? When he lay down and urged her to join him, she didn’t resist, but settled naturally along his length.

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