surging through him, he lowered his mouth to hers again.
Carrie lay, curled back against Alexeis’s strong, hard body. Her mind felt overwhelmed, her body still glowing, pulsing, with what she had experienced.
Which had been something even the most fervid imagination could never, never have imagined!
Oh, God, it had been incredible—amazing! Unbelievable!
Disbelief, wonder, seared through her.
I never knew it could be like that! Never!
She had not stood a chance, she knew—not a single chance of changing her mind. Not from the moment when, filled with the sudden inescapable realisation of why she had come here, she had suddenly felt that she was far, far out of her depth. All the temptation of the evening had suddenly coalesced into reality. The reality of what she was allowing to happen.
Why not? The voice had said to her again.
But at that fateful moment last night, looking down at the superb, lounging figure of the man who had simply knocked the breath from her body the first time she’d set eyes on him, the only words in her mind had been quite, quite different.
Oh, my God—what am I doing—what am I doing?
But she had known—known absolutely—what she was doing. Had known it all evening and had gone with it. Gone with the voice that had tempted her.
And she had known in that moment of standing there, at the end of the evening, that the moment of decision had come. She had known why she was there—known exactly why. There had been only one decision to be made—did she want to stay? To accept what was going to happen? To succumb to the temptation that had been beckoning her all evening?
She stared ahead of her, out over the dimness of the bedroom. What might she have answered had Alexeis not kissed her?
She didn’t know. Because he had kissed her, and in that very first moment, when his cool, long fingers had slid into her hair and his mouth had come down on hers, there had been only one decision—and it had already been made.
And she could not—did not—regret it! Not now, as she lay there, scooped back against the fantastic body that had done things to hers that she had never known were possible! How could she possibly regret it?
It had been a feast of sensuality—a banquet! His touch on her had melted through her like lava, drawing from her a response she had not thought possible. Touch after touch, each more arousing than the last, each more devastatingly intimate, until at last the sensations in her body, so incredible, so exquisite, had fused into an endless stream, intensifying until she was molten. Helpless in his arms, her head threshing from side to side, her body had been incandescent, burning like a flame that consumed all sense, all knowledge, all consciousness, making the whole world only what she was feeling, as if the whole universe were inside her head and nothing else existed!
Only the man making her feel that way. Only the one she’d clung to, cried out to, clutched with her hands, lifted her body to, to catch more, yet more, of that incredible, incredible experience—
She felt the afterglow still infusing through her, in her flesh. Her eyes were heavy, lids sinking. Her lashes fluttered. Around her waist she could feel, like a band, his strong arm pinioning her to him. Holding her where he wanted her to be.
In his arms. His bed.
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