his rich chestnut-colored body was totally male, utterly impressive and fully aroused.
He joined her on the bed and kissed her deeply, mating his tongue with hers the same way he intended for their bodies to mate. He felt his blood pound through his veins as she kissed him back, and her body trembled with the force of her emotions.
His fingers slipped between her legs and felt her heat, her moist desire. He began stroking her as he watched her pupils darken with need.
He needed to know her taste.
In one smooth move, he lowered his head and pulled her against his mouth as his hungry tongue went straight for her center. She jerked at the intimate contact and her fingers clutched the bedspread and lifted her hips for greater connection.
Jasmine thought she was going to lose her mind. Nothing should bring a person such astounding pleasure, such mind-curling enjoyment, she thought incoherently. She moaned deep within her throat as she moved her hips frantically, urgently against his mouth while her fingernails dug deep into his shoulders.
Then suddenly, the tension shattered within her and she cried out, arching her body closer to him, letting herself go and coming apart. She screamed out his name as he tongue-stroked her to sweet oblivion.
Jasmine heard the sound of foil tearing as she fought for breath. Then Wesley moved over her and she felt the heat of him sink slowly into her. She watched as his forehead creased when he encountered resistance. His head dropped back as he breathed deeply and tried to push forward.
Her fingernails dug into his shoulders at the pain and when he lowered his head and met her gaze, she knew that he knew. The look on his face told it all. Their gazes locked for what seemed like an eternity. She felt his hesitation, sensed his resistance and was aware of his inner struggle. She had to let him know that no matter what, she wanted this. She needed this.
Reaching up she wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaned up slightly to claim his mouth and kissed him.
Her tongue mated with his, restoring his passion and shattering his willpower. She felt his muscles tighten, his body flex. When he pushed harder, breaking through, she cried out and he absorbed her cry with his breath.
A moment later her pain subsided and she began returning his kiss. He slowly began moving inside of her and she felt it all the way to her bones. He ignited her pleasure with every smooth stroke. Heat raced to every part of her body and she surrendered to what her body—and his—demanded. And when he increased the tempo, advanced their rhythm to another beat, she tightened her feminine muscles around him, savoring the pleasure.
Her eyes burned with desire when he released her mouth and gazed down at her. “Now, Wesley!”
Her words urged him forward and he thrust into her one last time as their world exploded and pleasure consumed their minds and their bodies. His cry of satisfaction mingled with hers and his body continued to shiver long after the climax had passed.
For several long moments, Wesley held her in his arms. She had drifted off to sleep and he was enjoying just watching her. The only sign that she was still alive was her breathing. At rest, Jasmine looked younger. She was beautiful, special and…his.
And she had been a virgin.
He had never made love to a virgin before. When he had realized she was innocent he had tried to withdraw from such unfamiliar territory, uncharted waters. Any thought of turning back deserted him when he’d felt her inner muscles contract around him, claiming him, and he had given her what she wanted. What he wanted. He hadn’t believed he could find such pleasure in any woman’s arms. No woman had ever given him such a beautiful and special gift. Wesley felt a degree of possessiveness that he’d never felt before.
He swallowed hard when he thought of Caroline. His heart had been broken once and he didn’t intend for it to get broken again. But a part of him had to finally admit there was something about Jasmine that was totally different from Caroline Perry.
He had felt it that night they’d gone to the country fair, as well as the few times he’d watched her doing interviews. Getting a big story was her obsession but not her passion. He had reached that conclusion after reading the article she had written about that teacher who’d returned from Iraq. The story had been well written and uplifting. It had generated warmth and human interest.
Yet there was something driving her to go after the kind of stories that were laced with controversy and scandal, stories that could cripple a person’s reputation for life.
And as he gathered her closer, he was determined to find out what was driving Jasmine Carmody.
There was a man in her bed.
Jasmine slowly opened her eyes to find her body entwined with Wesley’s. Then she remembered the flat tire. Dinner. The thunderstorm. Their lovemaking. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand next to her bed. It was almost one in the morning.
A surge of sensations suddenly swept through her, filling her with honeyed warmth. When she thought of all the intimacies she and Wesley had shared, she should have felt downright scandalous, but it was very difficult to feel that way when her entire body already wanted more.
She remembered how her body had strained yet adjusted to Wesley. He’d held her hips in place while stroking her relentlessly, penetrating deeper, longer and harder when her inner muscles had relaxed, until he’d been embedded fully within her.
Like he was now.
Heat traveled up her body when she realized he was once again sheathed inside of her, their bodies intimately connected. She moaned deep in her throat and when she felt him getting harder. She met his gaze the moment his eyes opened.
He didn’t say anything. Neither did she. They just continued to look at each other as he filled her body with what she needed and wanted.
“It’s too soon,” he broke the silence and whispered. “We need to—”
He never finished what he was about to say when she thrust her hips against him, wrapped her legs around him, locking their bodies together. “We need to do this again,” she said flatly. She wanted him again—now. She clutched his shoulders and her hips began moving in a slow, soul-stirring rhythm that was meant to seduce.
He crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her in a way that made her toes curl and her womanly core melt. When he began moving his body, she forgot all about her body’s soreness and concentrated on the frantic pace of their lovemaking as he rocked her with immense pleasure.
Her fingernails sank deeper into his shoulders and she pulled her mouth from his. “Please don’t stop,” she whispered through a hissed breath, thinking she was about to die. If she was going to take her last breath she couldn’t imagine going out any other way.
“I won’t,” he whispered back, increasing the pace, his body responding to her request. He had wanted to give her tenderness but she had wanted fire. He intended to send her up in smoke. He knew and accepted that he was doing more than making love to her. He was claiming her as his. He didn’t want to think about the implications of that.
Now was not the time. This was not the place.
Wesley reached down and filled his hands with her breasts, wanting to be connected to her in every way. He again increased the pace, the tempo wild, furious, unrestrained. And when she cried out his name before the explosion
