Master of the Night
The taste of Champion's mouth shouldn't have hit her so hard. It was, after all, a simple kiss, a touch of lip and tongue, barely qualifying as foreplay by any reasonable standard.
Oh, she'd expected a little sizzle. Reece knew his business, and so did she. Both of them were fully capable of spinning a kiss into something sweetly erotic, a sensual aperitif, a promise of more to come.
But then something happened. Something magic that sizzled in the taste of his mouth, in the way those powerful hands caught her against his straining erection.
As he dragged her closer, she felt every inch of that big body, hard and brawny under the elegant camouflage of his tux. His tongue played around hers, teasing her arousal to blazing life. Every time he moved against her, the lace of her bra tormented her hard, sensitized nipples. Deep between her thighs, she felt the first heated trickle of desire.
Some instinct sounded a dim alarm. Erin wasn't a dewy-eyed virgin. She'd played the game before, knew her way around a man's body. Knew the dance of lust so well the steps had lost their urgency.
This was more.
His scent and taste swamped her blood like a narcotic. Need rolled over her, drowned intellect in fire.
It wasn't simple desire, or even simple lust. It was more primal than that. As if he'd triggered some imperative buried in her cells, a drive to give herself up to him in some ancient erotic ritual.
Unprofessional, whispered the voice of sanity. For God's sake, she was investigating this man's possible involvement with Satanists.
True, she'd been ordered to establish a relationship with Champion, play on his well-known weakness for pretty women. But she wasn't supposed to actually tumble into bed with him.
She'd better get herself under control. Now. Fight the spell of those magical hands and drag herself out of his reach.
But then those broad, strong fingers cupped the curve of her breast through her bodice. His thumb flicked across her nipple.
Oh, God, Erin thought, even as her body purred, Oh, yes. |