Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [23]
His hands tightened relentlessly, drawing her inexorably closer, quelling her frantic struggles with effortless strength. “Stop fighting me, Brenna!” He groaned huskily. “Don't you know I have to have something to keep me from going crazy in the next few weeks?” Then she was in his arms, pressed against his muscular body and experiencing the burning heat of his male hardness through the thin jersey of her robe. It was almost as if she were totally naked and completely vulnerable in his arms.
“Let me go,” she gasped, twisting desperately to escape the tormenting closeness that was branding her as his possession.
It was as if he didn't hear her. His face held only a glazed absorption. He closed his eyes, drawing in his breath raggedly. “God, I want you!”
His mouth covered hers with such a savage need that she felt that she was being absorbed into him, as if she were becoming a mere extension of the desire that consumed him. His lips covered her face and throat with hot kisses before returning to ravish her parted lips with a dizzying penetration. She groaned helplessly at the sheer sensual pleasure his teasing tongue produced. His hands moved in an agony of frustration, feverishly caressing her back and bottom, cupping and exploring the silken skin through the flimsy material of the robe.
She was swept up in a cyclone of sensation, her body feeling as weak as melted butter as she leaned helplessly against him. He gave a triumphant chuckle as he raised his head to stare down at her with barbaric satisfaction, the electric blue eyes blazing. With deliberate slowness, his eyes holding hers almost hypnotically, his hands loosened the tie at her waist and parted the robe. He stared in glazed anticipation at her silken curves. Brenna could feel a tide of emotion electrify her body at the intensity of emotion on his face. He wasn't even touching her, yet she could feel her breasts firming, their rosy peaks hardening as if he were caressing them. “Damn, you're lovely,” he said hoarsely. “You're mine, aren't you? Tell me you belong to me.”
Then without waiting for a reply, he lowered his mouth to those teasing peaks that were entreating his caress. His tongue toyed tormentingly with each luscious mound until she was shaking with the erotic reaction that he was arousing in her. She remembered how earlier in the evening she had mentally compared him to a vampire. She realized now, with a swift rush of panic, how correct the simile had been. He was using his overpowering sensual magnetism to drain the resistance from her, leaving her a chattel to an aching need that she had never known could exist.
He raised his head and then slowly closed the robe, tying the belt deftly. He gazed broodingly at her flushed face and soft bruised mouth. Then he caught his breath sharply as he encountered wide brown eyes that were shining with helpless wonder.
“God, don't look at me like that, sweetheart,” he groaned huskily, burying his face in her silky brown hair. He carefully withheld his taut body from her pliant curves. “I'm within an inch of picking you up and carrying you into that bedroom and raping you.” His teeth nibbled at her ear, causing delicious shivers to run through her body. “And it would be rape, because as willing as I can make that gorgeous body of yours, your mind is still rejecting me.”
He rubbed his lower body against hers sensuously. “I don't want only a one night stand with you, love. We're going to be together a long, long time. I want your body, your mind, and your soul. I'm going to own you, Brenna Sloan.”
For one mad moment she accepted that arrogant assertion of dominance with blind submission, willing to yield everything to regain the throbbing pleasure he had made her feel. Then the independence of a lifetime asserted itself with a rush of scalding shame. My God, what was she doing, she thought with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Where was her pride and self-respect that she could be vanquished so easily by this man's sexual expertise? Was she to be like her mother