Flash and Fire by Marie Ferrarella

Author:Marie Ferrarella [Ferrarella, Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781426868580
Google: gYdg7DFbUN8C
Amazon: B003R4ZZXI
Barnesnoble: B003R4ZZXI
Goodreads: 9246488
Publisher: Harpercollins (Mm)
Published: 1993-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty One

Tension vibrated through her fingers. With jerky movements, Amanda tugged Pierce’s shirt out of the waistband of his trousers. The buttons wouldn’t yield as she tried to work them free of their holes. Impatient, she yanked at them. One went flying over her shoulder, a casualty of her eagerness to free Pierce of the confining material, her eagerness to feel his skin against hers.

Amanda’s head reeled. Nothing made sense, least of all what she was doing. But she couldn’t think, she could only feel. Somewhere, far beyond any coherent speculation she could form now, she knew that there were regrets waiting for her, like an army of militant protesters surrounding a bonfire.

But not tonight.

Tonight there was only this driving need to have him take her, to have him soothe this fevered ache burning in her loins.

Soothe this fevered ache in her soul.

Anxious, afraid that the feeling would flee before it ever reached a crescendo, Amanda yanked Pierce’s shirt off his shoulders. With a triumphant sigh, she pressed her flesh against his. She was faintly surprised that it didn’t sizzle.

Her enthusiasm amused Pierce almost as much as it aroused him.

Instinctively, without knowing why, he’d known that it would be different with her. But he hadn’t suspected the magnitude of the difference. As she poured like quicksilver through his hands, she made him forget who he was and what he was. She made him forget that to him, no woman mattered. She aroused such an unprecedented torrent of feelings within him that he wanted to hold her, to savor her, to protect her.

To beg that this wouldn’t end.

Fear made him want to pull back for his own safety. But he couldn’t.

The technique that he was so proud of had deserted him. There were no tricks, no perfected movements. There was only him, stripped of everything but this raging need he had for her.

His skilled hands were almost clumsy as they pulled away the last scrap of a barrier between them. Her panties fell to the floor, ripped and useless. Holding her to him with one hand, he dove his fingers in. Exploring, he reveled in the sudden wild look in her eyes.

Amanda dug her fingers into his shoulders and clung to him, just barely holding on.

Her sudden, startled gasp told him that he had driven her over a peak. There was no feeling of triumph to mark the passage, none of the self-satisfaction that always distanced him from the women he took to bed.

Instead, there was a feeling of eminent pleasure. For both of them.

The rapture he saw in her eyes washed over him, cleansing him.

Her breasts heaving as she struggled to fill her lungs with air, Amanda fumbled with his trousers. The button that stood in her way stubbornly refused to give.

Pierce placed his hands over hers. “I’ll do it,” he murmured against the point of her chin. God, he couldn’t get enough of her, enough of that taste that seemed to be sprinkled all over her body. “You’ve already ripped off one button, and I don’t sew all that well.

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