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Culled ftom Time and Again by Nora Roberts!
Not too old to be interesting to read, get a copy here…www.eharlequin.com
Libby awakened slowly, muttering a bit when the sunlight intruded on her dreams. She shifted or tried to, but was weighed down by an arm around her waist and a leg hooked possessively over hers. Content with that, she snuggled closer and had the pleasure of feeling her sleep warmed skin rub against Cal’s.
Drifting, nearly dreaming again, she stroked a hand over him. He was solid and real, and, for the moment, hers. His laughter, his temper, his passion…they all belonged to her now.
He thought he had been dreaming, but the shape, the texture, the scent of a woman’s body were very very real. Libby’s body. Her name was there, his first walking thought. She was pressed against him, a perfect fit even in sleep. The slow, gentle stroke of her hand aroused him in the most exquisite way. He had lost count of times they had moved together during the night, but he knew dawn had been breaking the last time she had cried out his name. She was like a fantasy, all soft curves, agile limbs and tireless passions. Somewhere along the line, he had stopped being the teacher and had been taught.
All he wanted now was to make love with Libby in the sunlight. He shifted and before either of them was fully awake, slipped into her. Her soft moan mingled with his own as their lips met. Acceptance. Affection. Arousal. Slowly, drawing out the lazy delight, they moved together, their hands beginning a quiet exploration, the kiss deepening.
Need had them clinging closer. Gracefully, gloriously, they took each other to the pinnacle.
Moments the later the urge to have each other again was massive.
“Touch me.”
“I will.”
His lips cruised over her face, skimming here, lingering there. She was like a volcano, awakened after eons of sleep, ready to burst free, hot and molten.
It was never what she expected. He had her teetering on the edge with only a stroke of his hands. Then, as she trembled back to earth, he began to undress her, peeling off her flannel shirt, tugging off her jeans, while they stood beside the bed. She wore a narrow white undershirt in plain cotton. It seemed to fascinate him as he toyed with the straps, skimmed his finger along the low scooped neck, before he slipped it up and over her head. His lips were never still, nor were his hands, which roamed to exploit all the secrets he had already discovered.
Delighted, delirious, she yanked his sweater over his head. It amazed her that the need could have sharpened and grown, outracing what she had felt for him the first time. Now she knew where he would take her and had already traveled some of the routes he navigated so expertly.
His skin was soft, smooth. It pleased her to run her hands up and over his back to feel it, and the hard muscle beneath.
To be wanted this…desperately. She could feel it in the way he touched her, in the way his mouth came back to hers again and again for longer, deeper, hungrier kisses. His tongue tangled with hers, enticing, erotic, and she felt as well as heard him suck in his breath as her knuckles grazed his stomach.
He dragged her to the bed. Her gasp of surprise ended in a dark moan of pleasure. She reached for him only to find herself gripping the bed-clothes as he whipped her over the first raw edge.
No gentle touch, no easy persuasion. It was all hot, ripe need and a desperate race for satisfaction. Like two lost souls, they rolled over the sheets and drowned in each other.
Tonight, there were only breathless moans and shuddering sighs. Her skin was so slick with the heat passion pumped into her that it slid sleakly over his.
Each time his mouth found hers, she tasted the rich, musky flavor of desire. Gulping in air, she rolled over him to press her open mouth to his throat, his chest, knowing only that his flavor was dark, rich and wonderful.
He couldn’t get enough. No matter how much she gave, he needed more and still more. He was unaware that his fingers were digging hard into her skin, bruising, even as his lips followed the trail. He could see her in the dim lamplight, the way her damp skin glowed, the way her head fell back each time pleasure overtook her. Her eyes were gold, like some dark, ancient coin. Tribute for a goddess. He thought of her as one now, as she rose over him, her body curved back like a bow, the light casting an aura around her hair.
He thought he would die for her; thought he would die without her. Then, she was taking him into her, deeply, fully. He reached blindly, as she did, and their hands linked.
Then there was no thought at all…
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