Her heart aching with an odd mixture of love and anger, she watched him as he slowly walked toward her. His hair was disheveled, falling forward across his forehead, his shirt was gaping open all the way to his lean, narrow waist, the bronzed skin gleaming through the silky strands of black hair that grew there, and Sabrina was suddenly assailed by an unexpected surge of sexual awareness.
Swallowing convulsively, trying helplessly to ignore the nearly overpowering animal virility that exuded so naturally from him, she blurted out, "Are you hurt? What happened out there? Is Carlos all right?" After what had happened tonight, what had been revealed to her, she didn't give a damn about Carlos, but it was easier to ask after him than it was to let Brett's sheer magnetism blind her to everything but the compelling need to be in his arms, to touch him, to love him. . . .
Brett cocked an eyebrow at her. "Such concern!" he mocked. And lifting a bloody scraped knuckle, he murmured, "Will you kiss it better for me, sweetheart?"
There was something in his voice, as well as the look on his face, that made her increasingly uneasy. He was, she realized with a start, furious. Violence seemed to fill the very air where he stood, and there was a reckless glitter in the jade-green eyes.
She was very lovely as she faced him across the short distance that separated them, the candlelight turning the red-gold hair to fire, the icy green of her gown with its gauzy overslip giving the illusion of some ethereal fairy creature. But Brett knew that she was no ethereal creature, knew that she was full of fire and passion, his body remembering the heat and warmth of her skin, the fire that consumed him at her mere touch. It was a fire that he longed to burn in for an eternity, and he knew in that moment that he loved her. That he had always loved her and that he would be a double-damned fool if he allowed anything to come between them this time.
Nothing mattered anymore to him but that he have the right to call her his own. That money meant more to her than he did didn't even matter now. Carlos's words he dismissed with a sort of defeated disdain. Even that didn't matter. He had come to her experienced, so why should he cavil that she, too, had known other lovers? Not loves! he thought savagely. There had been no other loves in his life. Women, yes, he couldn't deny, but he had taken them in the same manner that a thirsty man would gulp water. There had never been emotion involved, only a physical response, never any caring—until Sabrina. And having known that exquisite feeling once, having known the joyous ecstasy of lying in the arms of the loved one, he wondered that he had survived these past years without her. He couldn't even deny that there had been other women since that night nearly six years ago—celibacy was not one of his virtues—but oddly enough, there had been no women in his life since he had returned from Derna. It was almost as if he had known that he had come back to Sabrina, as if he had realized the futility of seeking solace in other arms. Here was the only pair of arms he ever wanted around him, the only mouth he wanted to kiss, the only woman he would ever love.
It was a galling admission. The important women in his life had never treated him kindly; the pain of his mother's rejection was still buried deep within him, and the blow inflicted by Diana Pardee was an ugly scar on his emotions. But it was Sabrina's rejection of him that had gone the deepest, and yet here he was six years later, ready to walk once more into the silken trap that would bring him as much pain as it brought him joy. He faced that fact realistically, knowing that life without her would be far more unbearable than the pain she was certain to cause him.
But although he had admitted to himself that he loved her, it was an admission that brought no joy. If anything, it filled him with a furious impotency. He hated loving her, believing as he did that money would always mean more to her than his love, and he vowed fiercely that she would never learn that he loved her. It was too powerful a weapon to place in the hands of a greedy woman, and he cursed a fate that had made her the one woman in the world who had captured his heart. Why her, he wondered with a dull fury, why couldn't he have fallen in love with some sweet, innocuous little creature who would love him in return? Why did his fancy have to fall upon this bewitching, mercenary, flame-haired virago?
At least, he told himself viciously, he would have the pleasure of her body . . . and the pleasure of taming her to his bed. A pulse suddenly beat in his temple, and he was conscious of a demanding, hungry desire stirring in his blood at the thought of Sabrina lying naked in his arms. And once desire struck him, there was no denying it, his body responding instantly, his eyes darkening with passion, his full mouth taking on a sensual curve.
Sabrina had been staring mesmerized at the hand he had extended, longing to do just as he had proposed, kiss it better. There was nothing that would have given her more pleasure than to rain healing kisses all over his hand, his mouth, his body. . . . Realizing where her willful thoughts were taking her, with an effort she wrenched her eyes from his hand and met his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat, for there was no mistaking the look in his eyes, and treacherously she felt her body responding to it. She dropped her eyes, trying to ignore the sweet ache that was curling deep in her belly. Her gaze accidentally fell upon the lower half of his body, and her eyes widened at the clear sign of his arousal beneath the tight-fitting breeches. A smothered little gasp broke from her, and almost accusingly she glanced back up at him.
An odd little smile twisted his lips. Deliberately he walked closer to her. "A man," he breathed huskily, "can't hide what he is feeling. Women," he muttered against her mouth, "however, can. And a man only knows what effect he is having upon a woman by touching." With a leisurely movement, his hand cupped her breast, the thumb moving with an aching slowness across the nipple. Her nipple hardened instantly, and brushing a feather-light kiss at the corner of her mouth, he whispered, "Like that."
Helplessly Sabrina fought against the wave of insistent desire that washed over her. She mustn't. It didn't matter that she had already decided to accept his infamous bargain, this was different somehow—this, she realized sickly, was reality, and she couldn't bear to turn the love she felt for him into something so sordid as a trifling medium of exchange, her body for her freedom. She mustn't let him do this to her, mustn't let him touch her this way, mustn't. . . Oh, but it was so sweet, so wonderful, to have him touch her, and the fiery ache within her flowed ravenously through every part of her body. But drawing strength from some hidden reserve deep inside her, she stammered, "N . . . n . . . no. Y . . . y . . . you s . . . s . . . said you would give me time to consider the bargain."
For a second Brett stared at her, not understanding what she was referring to. Then his mouth twisted, and he shook his head slowly. "Sorry, sweetheart," he murmured thickly, "but there will be no bargains between us. Not anymore." His hands caught her shoulders, and he jerked her up next to his hard length. His mouth skimming hers with a burning heat, he muttered, "Not now!" And then his lips trapped hers in a hungry, demanding kiss.
With a small whimper of part pleasure, part defeat, Sabrina surrendered. What did it matter? This was what she wanted. And even when he swept her up into his arms and swiftly carried her up the stairs, his mouth urgently searching hers, she made no protest. She loved him. He wanted her, and for the moment she was content. Later she would worry about the consequences. Worry about her shame and her pride. Much later, she thought hazily as Brett kicked open the doors to his rooms and carrying her quickly across the outer chamber, deposited her on his huge bed.
His breathing was irregular, and sliding down beside her, a thread of amusement in his voice, he said, "God knows, you're a perfect Venus, but next time, sweetheart, I'll make certain my bed isn't so far away."
For just a second the sensuous mood was broken by his words, but before Sabrina could register them or gather her scattered wits, his mouth came down demandingly on hers and there were no thoughts in her mind but those of Brett. Heedlessly she returned his kiss, her defenses totally demolished by the cravings of her own traitorous body.
His kiss was ecstasy itself, those firm, knowin
g lips moving with a tender urgency across hers, his tongue seeking and finding the inner warmth and sweetness. There was a languid quality about his movements, as if he had been waiting a long time for this moment and didn't want to rush it. Slowly, lingeringly his fingers wandered through her hair, finding and discarding the silver net that held the chignon in place, gently letting the wavy, silky strands of red-gold hair slip through his fingers as he splayed it out across the pillows of the bed. His mouth kept hers a willing captive, the warmth and heat of his lips, the lazy, erotic probings of his tongue making Sabrina even more aware of how much she wanted him, how much she had hungered for him to do exactly as he was doing.
There was no question of stopping him, no thought of trying to escape the inevitable, and with a cat-sigh of pleasure, she let her hands slip up along his hard chest, over his shoulders, delighting in the touch and texture of his skin—skin that felt like sun-warmed, heavy satin. Her fingers curled sensuously through the thick, springy hair, and instinctively her body arched up nearer to his, seeking closer contact.
Even lost in his own world of sensual gratification, Brett was still conscious of a bittersweet satisfaction. She was in his arms, in his bed where she belonged, and dimly he knew that he was never going to let her go. That he could not. She was his, and before this night was through, she would know it, too.
As they lay there kissing, Brett's body half on hers, Sabrina became vaguely aware of other things: the yielding softness of the bed; the coverlet beneath her, warm and sleek, not velvet, not satin, but extremely voluptuous against her bare shoulders; and the faint flicker of candlelight across her closed lids. But then his hands stopped their wanderings through her hair and slid down to her shoulders, caressing and kneading the soft skin before insistently slipping the icy green gown farther down her body, laying bare her breasts and midriff, and Sabrina lost consciousness of an3^hing but Brett.
The touch of his hand on her breast made her tremble; the ache that was building deep within her became more and more intense, more and more persistent as his fingers fondled and stroked her, his thumb teasingly circling her nipple, driving her half-mad with longing. Needing desperately to touch him, to caress him as he was caressing her, with impatient hands she pushed his opened shirt off his shoulders, pleased when he helped her by shaking free of the garment. Almost purring with satisfaction, she let her fingers explore the expanse of flesh now available to her, the lean length of his back, the broad shoulders, and the hair-covered muscled chest. Her fingers lightly circled his nipples, imitating what he was doing to her, evoking an unexpected response from him.
His teeth lightly caught her bottom lip, and he muttered in a muffled voice, ''Don't! Not yet. I want you so badly, I've waited so long for this, that if you touch me now, I shan't be able to control myself."
But she had waited a long time, too, and frustratedly, not even aware of what she said, Sabrina mumbled, "But I want you, too. I want to touch you, too."
Her words were as potent as the strongest aphrodisiac, and with a groan Brett sought out her mouth again, kissing her with an odd fierceness that only made the hungry yearnings in her loins more voracious. And when his mouth left her lips and scorched a trail of fire to her breasts, Sabrina's entire body leaped with pleasure. His mouth was warm and moist over her breasts, and the flick of his tongue as it curled around her hardened nipples, the gentle grazing of his teeth as he pulled on them, had her arching up eagerly against his mouth. Her hands moved restlessly over his dark head at her breast, and she was filled with a wondering tenderness. I love him so much, she thought helplessly. So much.
When Brett raised his head a second later, she gave a small moan of protest, not wanting the intoxicating sensations he was arousing to stop. Then his hands were at her waist, tugging at her gown, and with the slight sound of ripping cloth, she felt it sliding down her body, leaving her naked on his bed.
There was silence in the room for a moment, and then Brett's husky "Oh, Jesus, Sabrina, but you are lovely—not even memory could compare to reality."
Shyly she opened her eyes and found him kneeling on one knee beside her, the other leg resting on the floor. The flickering light from a candle on the small table near the bed danced over his naked chest, the bulge in his tight breeches even more pronounced now, but it was the expression in those jade-green eyes that suddenly made Sabrina breathless. Oh, there was passion and desire to be sure, but there was also another emotion glittering in the depths of those dark green eyes the second before he dropped the concealing lashes, and that emotion had her reaching blindly for him, sheer joy surging through her body.
But gently Brett brushed her arms aside, and he said thickly, "I want to look at you. I've dreamed of you here so often. . . ."
For the first time, Sabrina became fully aware of her surroundings, of the luxurious black velvet that draped the canopied bed, of the barbaric splendor of the huge tiger skin upon which she lay. Her eyes full of wonder, she touched it, marveling at the rough silkiness of the fur, her eyes dazzled by the vivid orange and black stripes, by the very size of it.
Brett moved nearer to her, and bending low, his breath warm on her ear, he muttered, "When I killed it, in India, I always pictured you as you are now upon it . . . pictured us together on it."
A thrill shot through her, and her eyes swung to his. Mesmerized, she watched as he slowly, deliberately slid out of his breeches, his manhood springing free and proud before her. There was no embarrassment in his movements; it was almost as if he wanted her to look at him, to see the power and majesty of his naked body.
He was a magnificent animal, all sleek, hard muscles and beautifully proportioned size and strength. Wide shoulders tapered down to narrow hips and long, powerful legs, but Sabrina's eyes were locked on that harshly handsome face, that beloved face, willing him to look at her as he had a moment ago, willing him to come to her with love in his heart.
Possessively his gaze traveled over her, resting briefly on the swollen coral nipples before moving on down her slender length. Sabrina could feel the heat of his look, and when his eyes stopped at the junction of her thighs, it was as if he had touched her there, caressed her there . . . kissed her there. She swallowed agitatedly, incredibly erotic images flashing through her mind, and afraid he could see her thoughts, she closed her eyes.
Wordlessly Brett stared down at her, the blood pounding hotly in his veins, his whole body throbbing with the fierce compulsion to take her now, immediately. Her flame-colored hair was spread out wildly across the tiger's pelt, her slim, lissome body pale gold against the more vivid orange and black stripes, and he had never seen anything quite so achingly lovely in his entire life. She had been fashioned for loving, the full bosom lush and tempting, the slender waist and gently flaring hips perfection, the long, shapely legs flawlessly formed.
With a groan, he slid down on the bed beside her, gathering her hungrily in his arms, his mouth half-savagely, half-sweetly plundering hers. His legs entwined with hers, and he crushed her next to his hard body as if he meant to absorb her into his very being.
His skin felt hot against hers, the roughness of his embrace startling her momentarily, but then, sighing deep in her throat, she eagerly offered herself to him, returning his kiss fervently, her body yielding sweetly to the force of his. Her arms locked lovingly around him; she arched closer to him, delighting in the feel of him against her, the hair on his chest rubbing sensuously against her nipples, the heat and hardness of his manhood caught between their bodies.
Leaving her mouth, he found her nipples again, but only for a moment before his lips slid lower, exciting and alarming her as they traveled down across her belly to the triangle of soft red curls at the top of her thighs. Sabrina gave a small moan when his searching mouth moved even lower and she felt his tongue seeking that most intimate part of her. She stiffened in shocked pleasure when he opened her gently and that warm, invading tongue began to explore her thoroughly there where she had never imagined.
&nb
sp; Frightened by the powerful emotions that were surging through her body, she clutched at his dark hair, wanting him to stop, certain she would die if he did stop. A shamed little gasp of ecstasy broke from her as he kneaded her breasts with his hands, his mouth moving carnally against her, his tongue creating havoc with her as again and again he tasted and explored the hot sweetness he had found between her thighs.
The sensations were incredible, like nothing she had ever dreamed, and mindlessly she writhed on the tiger skin, her fingers moving helplessly over his head and shoulders, her body shaking. A sensation, not quite pain, not quite ecstasy, suddenly seemed to focus under Brett's warm, probing tongue, and Sabrina found herself pushing up frantically against his mouth. It was as if every nerve in her body was centered there, and she heard herself sobbing aloud, begging for release, and just when she thought she could bear it no longer, there was such an intense burst of pleasure, such a piercing, sweet throbbing radiating out from her, that her entire body went limp with ecstasy.
She had never felt such pleasure, such incredible contentment, and for several seconds, she lay there, basking in the afterglow of the wonderful things he had done to her. She felt boneless, so exhausted she was certain she could hardly hold her eyes open, but then she felt Brett sliding up across her body, and her pulse jumped.
He raised himself slightly and looked down at her, noting the dilated iris, the soft sheen of perspiration upon her body, and with a slight groan of satisfaction, he parted her thighs with his knees. His eyes were fever-bright and his voice was husky when he said, "This time we'll share it together; this time I want to see your face. ..."
The Tiger Lily Page 42
