Falling For Rachel by nora roberts

Author:nora roberts
Language: eng
Format: azw
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9780373098101
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 1993-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

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He ripped her blouse. It wasn't only passion that made him grab and tear.

He couldn't bear to see her wear it another moment, to see that vivid

blue stained with spots of blood.

Yet the sound of it, of the silk rending beneath his fingers, and her gasp

of shocked excitement, spread fire through his gut.

"The first time I saw you…" His breath was already short and fast when

he tossed the mangled blouse aside. "From the first minute, I wanted

this. Wanted you."

"I know." She reached for him, amazed at how deep and ripe a need

could be. "Me, too. It's crazy," she said against his mouth. "Insane." Her skin trembled as he tugged the straps of her chemise from her shoulders

to replace them with impatient lips. "Incredible."

Glorying in it, she arched against him when he took her breasts in those

greedy, rough-palmed hands. Then his mouth—oh, his mouth, hot and

seeking—closed over her to tug and suckle. Hurry, was all she could

think, hurry, hurry, and her nails scraped heedlessly up his sides as she

dragged his sweater over his head.

Flesh to flesh was what she wanted. Skin already hot, already damp. The

feel of his lips against her thundering heart had her locking her fists in

his hair, pressing him closer. She fretted for more. Even as the storm

built to a crisis point inside her, she met, she ached, and she demanded.

Her fingers dug into his broad shoulders when he slid down, setting off

hundreds of tiny eruptions by streaking hungry, openmouthed kisses

down her torso. Then back, quickly back, to drown her in desire with his

lips on hers. He couldn't stop himself from taking. No matter that he had

once imagined making slow, tortuously slow, love to her on some huge,

soft bed. The desperation of what was overpowered any fantasy of what

might have been.

She possessed him. Obsessed him. No mystical siren could have stolen

his mind and soul more completely.

A button popped from her skirt as he fought to drag it down her hips. He

thought he might go mad if he didn't rip aside all obstacles, if he didn't

see her. All of her.

Half-crazed, he peeled off her stockings, and the delicate lace that had

secured them. Somewhere through the roaring in his brain he heard her

throaty cry when his fingers brushed against her thigh. Fighting to hold

back, he knelt between her legs, filling himself with the sight of her,

slim and golden and naked, her hair tousled around her face, her eyes

dark and heavy.

She reared up, too desperate to wait even another moment. Her mouth

closed avidly over his, and her fingers tore at the snap of his jeans.

"Let me," she said in a husky whisper. "No." He slipped a hand behind her back to support her, and brought the other down to cover the source

of heat. "Let me."

The volcano he'd imagined erupted at the first touch. Her body

shuddered, quaked. And he watched, impossibly aroused, as her head

fell back. Not surrender. Even in his own delirium, he understood that

she was not surrendering. It was abandonment, the pure, unleashed quest

for pleasure.

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