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Her Secret Thrill(6)

By:Donna Kauffman

Her eyes widened at the very primal, direct gesture, and her knees went a bit weak. She’d never thought about watching a man stroke himself. Ever. It simply wasn’t part of her sexual experience. But damn if she didn’t want to add it in. Right now.

She looked to his eyes and saw a taunting there. Was he daring her? Did he want her to ask him?

She looked back to his hands, but they just stayed there, resting over the bulge she knew very well was behind them.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Her breath came out in one long sigh. But there was more frustration in it than relief.

He reached for her hand, she lifted hers to his. She was half wondering if he was going to direct it to his fly, but he folded his fingers between hers and pulled her out of the elevator into the hallway. He checked his room key, then the signs, and headed down the hall with her in tow.

She liked his long-legged stride, liked the way he kept looking down at her with such heat in his eyes.

Suddenly he tugged her against him and ducked into the little vending machine alcove.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured against her mouth just before taking it again.

Natalie thrilled to the way he simply took her. But while his kiss was demanding, it was also generous. He gave…aggressively.

When he pulled back, they were both breathing heavily. “I could climb right out of my skin, I want you so badly.”

The rush of pleasure his roughly spoken words sent through her was so intense, it was all she could do to nod in agreement.

He wrapped her against him, then finally swore and left the alcove. “I’m going to embarrass myself completely if I don’t get you in that room right now.”

Natalie decided right then that groping and tearing had its moments, too. She was itching to pull off every stitch he had on.

He fumbled the key card into the slot, repeating the motion three times before they finally got the door open.

Natalie didn’t even pay attention to the lovely little room or the original antique furnishings. In fact, if he hadn’t been as hot to get to her as she was to get to him, she’d have been appalled at her greedy behavior.

He slid off his jacket, yanking the bag from the drugstore out of the pocket and tossing it on the bed before tossing the jacket in the general vicinity of the closet. But just when Natalie thought—hoped—he’d drag her to him and thoroughly ravish her, he stilled, drew in a deep breath, then laughed lightly, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I wasn’t like this even when I was sixteen.” He looked at her with an adorably wry smile. “I guess my lack of finesse is showing here. Once a cowboy, always a cowboy.”

“I’m not finding anything lacking.” Natalie took a breath herself. “Except that we’re still clothed.”

He grinned. “Where have you been all my life?”

She laughed and let him guide her to the bed. She loved the heady mixture of laughter and passion that accompanied them so easily. Why wasn’t it always this easy?

She knew why. Because there were no expectations here. No public aspect to this. Nothing to worry about beyond right this moment. She could be anyone. Do anything. And it would be just between them. No explanations. No apologies.

If she hadn’t already been intoxicated by the possibilities, looking into his eyes now as he tugged his shirt out of his pants had her almost drunk and reeling with them. No apologies. No regrets.

She unhooked the neck of her tunic, let it fall to her waist and stood bare-breasted before him. She was not particularly well endowed, but she’d always thought that what she had measured up all right. The leap of desire she caught in his eyes erased any other concerns she might have had. The fact that she willingly stood there boldly before him was as arousing to her as it apparently was to him.

He removed his shirt, and she forgot all about her own nudity. Dear Lord, he was even more impressive than she’d imagined. His chest was broad and well muscled with a light swirl of hair across his pecs. His stomach was flat, his waist lean. She wanted to slide her hands in the waistband of his pants and shove them down. Her fingers curled inward against the need to follow through on that desire.

“What do you want?” He looked from her closed fists to her eyes.

He never missed anything. “I want to see the rest of you. You’re truly beautiful.”

Surprisingly, a little heat bloomed in his cheeks. She laughed. “Surely I’m not the first to tell you that. You do own a mirror or two.”

He smiled and gave a disarming little shrug. “It wasn’t what you said, it was how you said it.” He lifted one of those fists, opened it and kissed her palm. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, very unsteadily. He was simply too perfect. And he was hers. At least for the next couple of hours.

The grin was back, along with a wink as he placed her hand on his waistband. “You strike me as a woman who has no problem going after what she wants. So go ahead. Take what you want.”

She looked into his eyes, saw that he was serious and said, “I think I just might do that.”


She grinned and flicked open the silver button of his jeans, then tugged down his zipper. It was a bit challenging as it was currently being stretched rather beyond its intended usage. She paused halfway down. “I don’t want to— I’m afraid I’ll—” She stopped, then laughed lightly when his hands covered hers. “So much for being the bold, daring, take-what-she-wants type.”

“I thought you were doing just fine.” His voice was hoarse and a little strained. Natalie looked up into his eyes and found such dark desire there, her smile faded away. He tugged on her hand, and she looked back down as he finished unzipping. He moved her hands to his hips, urging her to shove his pants down. She did. He kicked out of his shoes and socks, sending the pants after them.

“Briefs,” she murmured. Black ones. Bikini style. She gulped as he took her hands again. She wasn’t ready, not yet. Well, she was, she was all but salivating. But not yet. Instead she moved his hands to her hips.

It wasn’t until he began peeling the skin-like pants off her that she remembered she had nothing on beneath. He didn’t seem to mind. Neither did she, as it turned out.

She went to step out of her heels, but he said, “Leave them on.”

She darted a look to his eyes, but complied. As it was, he was about four inches taller. Without the heels, it would be about half a foot difference. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to minimize the difference, at least while they were standing.

Then he said, “Walk over to that chair.” It wasn’t a command, more a request.

Still, she was surprised by it. “Why?”

He smiled. “Because I asked nicely?”

Her thighs trembled a bit. Hadn’t she fantasized about him calling the shots? The very idea made her even wetter. If possible. She felt her inner muscles clench hard as she turned and walked away from him across the room to a high-backed, Victorian-looking chair.

“Turn around.”

She did. Very slowly. She didn’t smile, nor did she look cool. She simply did as he asked until she faced him again. Then she waited.

“You are stunning.”

Now she smiled. Felt her skin heat.

“Don’t believe me? Turn to your right.”

She did, and gasped. There was a full-length oval mirror tucked in the corner between the dresser and the chair.

“Look at yourself, Natalie.”

She couldn’t not. She looked…ripe. And those black, razor-sharp heels were downright sex on stilts. She’d always thought herself passably attractive, basic beauty but no frills. Only, right now…dear God.

“Know what I see?” He moved behind her, so she could see him in the mirror. His body was wider than hers, taller than hers. He framed her entirely. His skin was darker, his look wilder, rougher. He made her look all the more refined, yet she didn’t feel fragile.

He reached through her arms and gently cupped her breasts. She exhaled on a sharp gasp of pleasure, her knees giving slightly at the hot rush his touch set off.

“I see nipples that stand out for my attention.” He slowly rubbed his thumbs over them, eliciting a moan from her she couldn’t contain. She whimpered when his hands slid away, but moaned again as his flat palms smoothed over her abdomen, then spread downward.

She trembled hard as his fingertips brushed at the dark, downy curls at the apex of her thighs.

“I want to see what you have waiting for me here, Natalie,” he said, his lips against the side of her neck.

It was impossibly arousing. She wanted to move his fingers lower, push them inside her. She stepped back, needing to feel his body touching hers, needing more than just his palms on her stomach, his fingers brushing her.

But he stepped back, then moved in front of her. He turned to face the mirror, almost entirely blocking her from view. “Turnabout is fair play, right?”

The muscles between her legs were tied in a knot of pleasure so tight she wanted to scream with the need to untie it. But she looked at him in the mirror and knew she wanted this even more.

She stood just to the side of him and pressed her hands to his hips, then slid his briefs all the way down his legs to the floor. She was almost kneeling. She placed her hands just above his knees, then slowly dragged them upward as she stood again. He gasped this time as she slid her fingers around his pelvis, almost brushing against his jutting erection…but not quite.