lips parted on a gasp. “What are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable.” He moved toward her. The darkening glow of passion in her eyes confirmed she was battling desire without success. “Take your clothes off, ma chérie.”
“Absolutely not! Someone could come by—”
“Not here. This is my private beach. Nobody will see you but me.”
André had the satisfaction of watching her eyes widen, the pupils dilate, her breathing grow heavy. She wanted him as much as he did her, but she was clearly hesitant to shed her inhibitions or her clothes.
Contrary behavior for a mistress. But he’d come to realize Kira wasn’t ordinary. Oui, she was a contradiction.
Sexy, yet shy.
Passionate, yet refined.
Savvy, yet reserved.
He leaned over her, noting the quickening of her breath, the flushing of her skin. His mouth grazed her soft flushed cheek, nuzzled her neck, moving slowly to where a telling pulse hammered in the slender column of her throat, keeping pace with his own wild heartbeat.
He’d never wanted a woman as much as he did her. Had never exercised such restraint in seducing a woman. But though the chase made the anticipation all the more sweeter, his patience would not last much longer.
“I’ve seen you naked,” he said. “Why hesitate now?”
He heard her swallow, felt a shiver rip through her. “You dare to ask after you threaten to bar me from my child’s life?”
He read the resolute determination in her eyes and almost smiled. Almost. She possessed more power than she realized.
“One has nothing to do with the other, ma chérie,” he said, his fingers releasing the tiny buttons on her blouse.
She grasped his hand, stopping him. “It has everything to do with this—this passion between us. I won’t be removed from our child’s life, André. Not now, not ever.”
She’d thrown down the gauntlet, giving him the choice to refuse to bend, to acquiesce to her demand, or to lie. “Very well. You have my word that I won’t mention it again.”
“I—” She swallowed. Stared straight into his eyes. And he saw her acceptance for what it was. Trust. “Thank you.”
He didn’t want her gratitude. Didn’t want to tie anything to this moment but mutual desire. No strings, no promises.
“Now we will make love à la Caribbean Française, oui?”
“Yes,” she said.
Triumph surged through him, along with emotions he didn’t want to face. Not now. Not when these new disturbing sensations were hammering away at him.
He pushed her blouse wide and traced a finger over the lace trim on her demi-bra, surprised his hand trembled. Stunned that with her he felt like an untried youth again.
She moaned and splayed her hands on his chest, the small fingers flexing over his muscles. An electric jolt shot through him, his muscles snapping taut, his body quivering with need. Mon Dieu, but he’d never experienced such sexual awareness from a simple touch.
He stared at her, his gaze ravenous as it swept over the creamy swells of her breasts pushing above the lacy scrap of her bra. A growl of annoyance rumbled through him, for he hated the barrier. With a flick of his fingers he released the clasp.
She moaned as her bosom spilled free. He palmed a globe, intrigued by the pale silken texture of her breast against his tanned skin, of the taut puckered nipple begging for his kiss.
“You are beautiful.”
The tip of her tongue flicked over the lips he longed to taste and tease. But it was her eyes, lifted to his, that sent his heart racing into overdrive. Desire, longing, trust.
“I am average,” she said. “But you—you’re extraordinary.”
“You needn’t resort to flattery to win my favor.”
“I’m not,” she said, her voice breathy. “It’s just that I’ve never met a man like you before.”
“Nor will you,” he said, driven by a fierce possessiveness.
Raw need coursed through him, his own blood pooling hot and thick in his groin. He ached to have her. Protect her. To make her his and his alone.
The erotic drumbeat in his ears matched time with her erratic pulse as he removed the last of her clothes, until she was as naked as he. He stood there feasting on the pale curves and hollows of her body, knowing that for now she was his.
Oui, the time for waiting was over.
He’d have her here. Now. And damn the consequences.
Kira shivered with nervous energy and a good dose of shock. She’d never imagined she would enjoy lying naked beneath a man’s scrutiny. And in broad daylight on a beach, no less!
But the sultry promise in André’s eyes captivated her. She was under his spell, ensnared by the onslaught of his passion, a willing slave to his desire.
More than that, she trusted that he would make things right. That sometime he’d listen to her. That he’d believe she wasn’t the calculating woman he’d accused her of being.
She trusted him in this. It was enough. For now.
Warmth swept over her like a welcoming summer breeze, kissing the skin he’d just bared. He was going to make love with her and she would welcome him.
She ached for him to kiss her, to touch her. But he just stood by the hammock, his gaze devouring every inch of her. And her body reacted to his scrutiny as if the touch were real, her skin pebbling and flushing, her muscles tensing, her breath growing heavy as her pulse raced out of control.
The sensations were new and intense, robbing her of will, of restraint. She couldn’t push him away, not when her arms had ached to hold him to her again. Not when she’d dreamed of this moment for three long months.
Her body had throbbed in the dead of night, just remembering the wonder of his gloriously powerful form fitted to hers, moving in hers in a harmony she’d never felt before. When he’d made love to her before she’d felt their hearts beat in tandem.
She wanted that again. Had to have it.
The sensations he wrought in her defied description, but her soul knew this joining was right.
He was the flesh-and-blood man of her dreams. The father of her baby. She wanted him with a keening ache that overrode caution.
She smiled, her arms reaching for him, knowing she’d die if he didn’t kiss her, touch her, love her. Knowing she must steal this moment, this memory, now, before he learned the truth.
His mouth quirked, his eyes gleaming. He rolled into the hammock, the net dipping precariously
