Up Close And Personal. Lynn Raye Harris

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and wild and she loved it. Her heart hammered, her pulse tripping as if she’d mainlined a vat of caffeine.

      But oh, was he worth it.

      His mouth found hers again, but his chest was now bare and she could run her hands over him. The hard planes and smooth skin, the dips and hollows of solid muscle that rippled beneath her fingers. So sexy.

      Quickly, he unbuttoned her shirt, the fabric falling open until her breasts were exposed to his sight. She could see his eyes gleaming in the dim light coming from outside the windows. Her nipples peaked as he watched her. She was shameless. Utterly shameless.

      “Raj,” she said, his name a plea on her lips.

      “You’re beautiful, Veronica,” he said softly, kissing her once more.

      And then he was sliding his tongue down the column of her neck, kissing the sweet spot where the nerves in her shoulder seemed to connect to the hot, throbbing center of her. She arched her back, gasped.

      Raj said something against her skin, but she didn’t hear what it was. The vibrations rolled through her, crested in her core. If he kept doing that, she thought she might explode.

      Impossible, but exciting. So exciting.

      When his mouth closed over her nipple, she thought that was the end. How could she stand this much pleasure?

      This much pain?

      Because she couldn’t help but think of all that had happened in the months since the last time she’d been with anyone. She’d changed so much. Fallen to the depths of despair. Risen again as she’d determined to go on with life.

      Raj seemed to sense her turmoil. He chose that moment to slip his fingers beneath the waist of her pajama bottoms, and her temperature spiked. He made a noise of approval when he found the lacy top of her panties. Fire streaked through her. And want, so much want.

      She thought she would die if he didn’t touch her.

      But he did, finding her swiftly, his fingers clever and sure as they stroked her while a long moan vibrated in her throat.

      “Veronica,” he groaned against her breast. “So sensitive, so responsive.”

      She couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell him it was all because of him, because she trusted him. Wildly, she thought that she hardly knew him—and yet she knew enough. He was a good man, a strong man. He was reliable, even if he was ephemeral.

      He was exactly what she needed when she needed it.

      She would not think about tomorrow.

      It didn’t take long for her to reach the pinnacle; her body tightened so painfully—then flew free as she gasped his name.

      His fingers stilled.

      And then he was removing her bottoms, tossing them aside and pushing her legs apart. She thought he would unzip his trousers, would plunge into her body and join them together finally—but he did no such thing. Instead, he slid down until his mouth—that clever, beautiful mouth—hovered above her most sensitive spot. She could hardly breathe in anticipation of what came next.

      She was not disappointed. His tongue slid over her, again and again, nibbling, sucking, flicking, while she grasped handfuls of the bedding and thrust her hips upward.

      This time when she came apart, stars exploded behind her eyes. Her breath was sucked from her body as her back arched off the bed. She was absolutely helpless beneath the onslaught of pleasure.

      He didn’t stop there. He took her to the top again, then pushed her over the edge until she was ready to beg him to stop, to let her breathe, to let her recollect her senses and reorder them again.

      It was simply too much. It was primal and raw, and as much as she wanted to stop, she also wanted to go on. She wanted to reach the next peak, and the next. But she wanted to soar with him instead of alone.

      He must have felt something of her desire, because he kissed his way up her body again—her torso, her breasts, her shoulder … oh, that shoulder!—and back to her lips, capturing them for a long, lingering kiss.

      Then he surprised her when he rolled to the side and tucked her against him. Confused, she pushed herself up with one hand splayed against his glorious chest. He was so dark in the night, so powerful and protective. She shivered in anticipated delight.

      “We aren’t finished yet,” she said.

      His laugh was strangled. “Yes, but I’ve realized I have no protection. This is not what I came here for tonight.”

      She leaned down and kissed him. “I’m on the pill,” she said against his lips. “I had to take it after … well, after I needed my hormones to stabilize. They were all over the place for a while.”

      His fingers came up and stroked along her cheek. It was a sweet gesture, so simple and honest. She loved it.

      “You slay me, Veronica,” he said. “And you deserve far better than I can give you. I’m humbled that you trust me, but you’ve just convinced me that I can’t take advantage of your vulnerability.”

      She pulled away and sat up. She was completely naked, but she didn’t care. Let him look. If it made him uncomfortable, so much the better. Frustration was a hot stew in her belly. And disbelief. Could he really be serious?

      “You’re the most arrogant man I’ve ever met, Raj Vala. And I’ve met some arrogant ones, believe me. What makes you think for one instant that I don’t know what I want? That I can’t make my own decisions? That I’m somehow blinded by your fabulousness and not in control of my own mind?”

      “I didn’t mean—”

      “You did,” she said firmly. “Because you’re so wonderful, of course, and no woman can resist you. Therefore, it’s up to you to be noble and deny my poor, weak female mind what it thinks it wants.”

      “You aren’t thinking,” he growled, “or you wouldn’t want this. In the morning, you would regret it.”

      “That’s my problem, isn’t it?” she snapped, anger and sexual frustration building to a peak inside her. “You’re here to protect me from an outside threat, not from myself.”

      “I want you, make no mistake. And if I were a bastard like Andre Girard—or any of those other men you’ve taken to your bed—I’d seize what you’re offering me and to hell with your peace of mind.”

      “Fine,” she said, scrambling from the bed and whirling to face him. She was absolutely on fire with anger. And humiliation. She’d thrown herself at him, and he’d turned her down flat. After making sure she had an orgasm or two—alone. It was ridiculous, but she felt so worthless right now.

      “Clearly, you know what’s best for me. Now get out and let me sleep.”

      He was so still and quiet that she didn’t think he would respond, but a few seconds later he exploded off the bed, grabbing his torn shirt and coming to loom over her. “You’ll thank me tomorrow,” he snarled.

      She started to snap back at him, but something stopped her. Sometimes

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