Chapter Eighty Three

Softly, slowly, he kissed her closed eyes, feeling the slight flutter of her long lashes brush his chin, a butterfly touch he fancied on other parts of his body. Was she still nervous about her decision to have him? Her tension in the car had been palpable, and using the fish as an almost frantic distraction from his presence here in her apartment were both signs of uncertainty...or apprehension.

She could have said no, Collins argued to himself, and her response to his kiss just now was enough assurance that the desire they shared overrode any doubts or fears, but it suddenly niggled that she might not be fully with him. He could take her. She was willing. But he didn't want any part of her to be withheld from him.

He lifted his hands and gently cupped her face, studying its unique feminine contours, her marble-smooth forehead, the fine arch of her brows with their winged ends, the deeply set lids that gave her eyes their exotic triangular shape, the high slanted cheekbones flanking her neat straight nose, the seductive fullness of her perfectly shaped lips...

She opened her eyes, the dark pupils so large their amber rims looked like rings of gold. Collins felt his heart kick at their luminous concentration on him. They seemed to be scouring his soul, asking questions he had no answers for. Not yet.

Give me time, he thought, but didn't say the words. They would sound like a promise and he instinctively shied from making any promises. He smiled to smooth over any angst she felt and spoke a truth that held no sense of danger to either of them.

'Just looking at you gives me pleasure.' He said.

Her smile rewarded him, warm sparkles in her eyes softening their dark focus. A daring glint emerged as she answered, 'I would like to look at you but you have too many clothes on.'

He laughed, delighted to oblige her wish, swiftly removing his suitcoat and tossing it on a nearby armchair. 'How are you at undoing bow ties?'

She cocked her head in teasing consideration. 'I think I'm up to the challenge.'

Her hands lifted to the base of his throat and Collins sucked in a quick breath as he felt her fingers go to work, his pulse quickening underneath her touch. He concentrated on removing his cufflinks. His own fingers fell thick and clumsy, impatient to be rid of the task, wanting to roam over her again.

Control, he fiercely recited, but by the time he'd dropped the cufflinks on the table holding the fish-bowl, the bowtie was gone, half his shirt buttons were undone, and her hands were gliding over his bare flesh, fingers tracing the taut muscles of his neck and shoulders, raising havoc with his determination to move slowly. He found himself tearing at the remaining buttons, almost ripping the shirt in his haste to get it off.

Her hands were stroking his upper arms as he yanked off the longsleeves and even as the frustrating piece of clothing dropped to the floor, she stepped in and pressed her mouth to the hollow between his shoulder-blades, her hot succulent lips firing up his blood, her handscontinuing to stroke down his arms, making the fine hair on them crackle with electricity.

He didn't move, didn't dare to move in case he exploded into action.

Besides, he'd wanted to register her affect on him, wanted to understand it, and he'd done this to her, hadn't he, while she stood still? He could stand still, too, and let her touch wash through him, building his awareness of how and why she excited him so much.

Her hands were at his waist now. Every muscle in his body Hexed as he imagined them moving to unfasten his trousers. But they didn't. They glided up his rib cage, and her mouth trailed hot sensuous kisses over the breadth of his chest, her teeth lightly tugging on the springy curls at the centre of it, her tongue licking, tasting, and Collins mind was totally jammed by the sensations shooting through him. Thinking of anything else was not an option.

He'd never considered his nipples erotic zones but when she latched onto them, the bolt of excitement was so sharp and intense, his hands instinctively took defensive action, burrowing through the thick curtain of her hair, compulsively intent on pulling her head away until... Her hand moved down over the Hal of his stomach, making his skin crawl with sensitivity, fingers reaching under the waistband of his trousers, distracting him with her touch on other erogenous areas, and he couldfeel his erection burgeoning. If she took hold of him...

The need for control snapped into action again. He seized her wrists and lifted her arms to his shoulders, automatically raising her head from his chest where she'd heightened his excitement to an almost intolerable level. He kissed her quickly, his head whirling with the urge to be the dominant force, to take and be taken on his terms.

His tongue punished hers with hard invasive strength, overriding the seductive power of her mouth, yet even her submission was insidiously exciting, conjuring up how it would be when he plunged into her, her hot silky flesh giving way, stretching and compressing voluptuously around him.

He had to stop this or it would be over in a flash. 'Clothes,' he muttered, remembering her wish to look at him.

He stepped back, severing all contact, bumping into the chair he'd tossed his suitcoat on. He leaned against it as he whipped off his shoes and socks. Go slow, he raged at himself, taking more time over removing his trousers and briefs, wanting at least a little dignity in getting naked in front of her.

She didn't move. He fell her eyes on him, all over him, and when he finally straightened up, he met her gaze with a. challenging pride that denied any self-consciousness in being bared to her sight, though every muscle in his body was taut with intensely male aggression, every nerve strung out from the frustration he'd imposed on himself.

He was a man and never had he felt his sexuality more keenly.

Yet the instant he saw her expression—the soft look of wonder on her face, the vulnerable awe in her eyes—he was swept by the urge to be gentle with her, which put him strangely at odds with himself. Most ofthe women he'd met in recent times were ambitious, manipulative.

They didn't draw tenderness from him. It was weird feeling the violent pounding of his heart melt into a muted curl of caring, a different formof desire that was intrinsically linked to this woman.