She opened her mouth to scream.
“It’s me, Jake,” he said from the darkness, holding onto her
arms to steady her.
She let out a long, shaky breath. “What was that?” she asked
in a hushed voice. “You must have heard it. It sounded so awful.”
“It was your cat.”
“Marmaduke?”
“Yeah.”
“But I could have sworn it sounded more human than—”
“I stepped on his tail.” He cleared his throat. “Scared the
hell out of both of us. He took off somewhere. Sorry about getting you out of
bed.”
“I’m just glad I found out what it was. But what are you
doing up?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Relaxing, she glanced up, only to be blinded by the night.
Thick, black and total, it draped over Jake and everything around her. His
hands, warm and strong, grasped her upper arms. She grew conscious of the
coolness of the house, of the silk of her nightgown against her skin, but most
importantly of Jake, of the deep woodsy scent of his aftershave and how his
hands, minus the gloves, were now slowly sliding up and down her arms. Her toes
curled beneath her. He smelled like what she envisioned a man should smell
like. Desire lapped against her skin until it seeped through her flesh and took
hold of her body.
He slid a hand up her arm and over a shoulder to cup her
throat, while the other curled around her waist to press against the small of
her back, inching her closer to the heat of his body. She met his lips halfway,
opening her mouth beneath his. The kiss deepened, demanded and took. She raised
a hand to feel his against her throat. He had a long fingered, strong hand, the
skin smooth and flawless over the tendons and knuckles. She touched his face,
his neck, his shoulders. Against her palms, his skin was satin over hard
muscle. He was all male, all power.
He hauled her closer, pressing her sensitized breasts against
his chest as his tongue mated with hers. His desire thrust against the shallow
hollow of her hips. The thick, hardness of him scorched through the material of
her gown to her belly and turned her legs to liquid. She slid her hands over
the sleek texture of his naked back, over the muscles and tendons, down across the
indentation along his spine and lower.
She froze.
He was entirely, absolutely, completely naked, every male
inch of him. She whimpered as her breath came out in short, shallow pants, and
desire slammed against her, painful in its intensity.
Margot stiffened. Oh, God. Had she completely lost it? Where
was her sanity, her morals? She hardly knew this man.
“No!” She dragged in a lungful of air. “This is all wrong!”
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