tasting. But it ignited a flame of raw desire along every one of Alana’s veins.
When he drew back slightly, she made a treacherous sound in her throat. She wanted more than that brief all-too-chaste kiss. And so did he evidently.
This time it wasn’t chaste and benedictory, this time it was forceful, both their mouths pressing together, tasting, experiencing. The finger at her chin was gone. His hand slid round to the back of her head, flicked away the band tying her hair in a ponytail and threaded through the soft, silky strands to cradle her skull in his hand. His other arm slid around her slim waist and pulled her into him. Her arms automatically went to his shoulders and clung for support.
The feel of his body pressed up close to hers was short-circuiting her system. He was hard all over, and so strong. She could feel his chest muscles flex against her soft curves when his arm tightened around her, pulling her even closer.
While their bodies melded together, their mouths remained fused. Pascal pulled back briefly and Alana looked up into those amazing eyes that were burning, reflecting a fire she felt deep in her belly, where a very hard part of him was making her want to move restlessly. She was stunned by everything. She felt confused; she could feel herself tremble with reaction. She frowned slightly, her mouth opened.
Pascal pressed a finger to her mouth. The softness of her lips and her warm breath made him harder, and he almost groaned out loud with the need to take her now, to sink into her yielding, silky warmth. But he knew that she wasn’t far from letting her head take over, from possibly pushing him away. ‘Don’t think. Don’t speak. Just feel.’
This time when his mouth touched hers it was slightly open. Breaths mingled and wove together, and for one split second neither of them breathed. And then Pascal slid his tongue between her lips and Alana’s hands clutched at his shoulders. She’d been kissed like this before; of course she had. But whenever Ryan had kissed her, it had always been rough and with no finesse.
But this was in another league. Pascal’s tongue danced erotically with hers, advanced and retreated, inviting her to follow him. And she did. Winding her arms tight around his neck, pressing even closer, she slid her tongue into his mouth and was rewarded with a low guttural moan. It was the sexiest feeling, and she was controlling the pace, the movements. She savoured his full lower lip, felt it with her tongue, let it glide across the surface before allowing their tongues to duel again.
When she felt him snake a hand under her top, to feel the skin above her trousers, the curve of her waist, her legs trembled in earnest. Their kisses stilled for a second, as if he was waiting to see what signal she would give. She nipped his lower lip gently and she could feel him half-smile against her mouth.
His hand slid higher over her smooth back, to just below the clasp of her bra. His hand was so big she imagined it could span her entire back. With a practised flick of his wrist and fingers, he opened the clasp. Alana felt her bra loosen, but she was lost in a maelstrom of lust so strong that she wanted nothing more than for him take the weight and fullness of her breast into his palm—which he promptly did, sliding his whole hand around her ribs as if loath not to caress every part of her. The sensation was so shockingly electric that she gasped and wrenched her mouth from his, breathing jerkily.
His other hand still cradled her head; their bodies were still fused at every conceivable point. She was on her tiptoes to try and keep his hardness there, at the apex of her thighs where a loud, heavy beat of blood called to her. She couldn’t do anything but look up into his glittering, aroused gaze as his hand cupped her heavy flesh and his thumb moved back and forth over the tingling, tight peak of her nipple.
She bit her lip, and he bent his head to whisper hotly in her ear, ‘I want to take it into my mouth until you come apart in my arms … until you’re so wet that sliding into you will be the easiest thing in the world.’
A million things were hurtling into Alana’s head. Past experiences, warnings, wants and confusion reigned. What was happening to her? She should be shocked, but she wasn’t. She’d never thought in a million years she could respond like this, and yet they had done little more here and now than she’d already experienced at teen discos years ago. Or during her marriage.
Pascal could see the way her eyes were clearing, the way those green depths were starting to swirl. He had to pull back, even if it was going to kill him. Gently he closed her bra again and stepped back slightly to pull down her top. He’d been right; her body with its gentle curves was infinitely more alluring than he’d ever expected it to be, her breasts fuller. It was a crime that she hid under those structured tops and dark colours.
He put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back completely, and tried to ignore the inferno raging in his pants.
‘I have to go. I wish I didn’t, but I do. You could come with me?’ he asked then, but already he could see her start to tense, stiffen.
‘No,’ he answered for her. ‘It’s too soon.’ He castigated himself for his lack of control.
He walked over to get his coat which was draped on the back of a chair, and pulled it on. He saw the cards that had accompanied the flowers neatly lined up to show the sentence they’d spelt out. Something forceful struck him then. He’d never gone to such trouble before. Women always said yes; it was always easy. But recently his experiences with women had always proved somewhat unsatisfactory. And now merely kissing Alana was making him feel like a randy teenager again.
Alana welcomed the distance as she watched him put his coat on, accentuating his shoulders, his broad back. His shoulders that she’d just been clutching with complete abandon, because if she hadn’t, she’d have dissolved at his feet. What had he done to her? What the hell did he think he was doing, waltzing in here for just a few hours only to mess up her carefully controlled world? She crossed her arms over still tight and sensitive breasts.
He turned around and saw her look immediately. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’
Alana’s jaw tensed so hard she felt it might break. ‘I don’t want this. I don’t want you.’
He covered the paltry distance between them in a couple of steps, floorboards creaking under his weight.
‘I think I’ve just proven that you do want me. And I want you. Badly.’
In a shocking move he took her hand and brought it down to where she could feel his agony for herself. Hectic colour flooded her cheeks.
‘There’s something rare and powerful between us, Alana, and I won’t let you shut me out just because you’re scared.’
She snatched her hand back from where the hard evidence of his arousal was threatening to overheat her brain again. ‘I am not scared.’ Liar. ‘I just don’t want this. I really don’t want this.’
His stance was strong, legs planted wide, face implacable. ‘It’s already happening. We can’t go back now. You could have sent back the flowers, or thrown them out.’ He flung out a hand. ‘But you didn’t. You could have refused to let me come into your house tonight, but you didn’t.’
Humiliation coursed through her. He was right. She’d put up absolutely no fight whatsoever. What was she doing? Had she learnt nothing?
‘You’re covering the match in Italy next weekend in Stadio Flaminio?’
His abrupt change of subject caught her unawares. ‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
‘I have an apartment
