Campaign For Seduction

by Ann Christopher

  His breath was hot and serrated, as uncontrolled as she felt, and they stayed like that for several beats, frozen with the thrill of being together and the freedom of touching each other. Then he trailed his slow mouth from one of her temples to the other in the kind of loving caress that women waited their entire lives to experience—the kind of caress that Liza hadn’t known she’d needed.

  Hot tears—ecstatic tears, wrecked tears—welled behind her closed lids, and there was no holding them back, not when his hands and lips on her body felt this excruciatingly perfect. When the tears overflowed and ran down her cheeks, he kissed those, too.

  “Liza,” he said in her ear, kneading her nape with fingers so strong and wonderful she almost came on the spot. “Liza.”

  “Don’t stop.” She slid her hands up his back, starved for the living silk of his bare skin, and thanked the stars for this moment, for him. If she’d just ended her career by crossing this line between them, so be it. Her career was a small price to pay for this moment. “Don’t stop.”

  “Shh. I’m not stopping.”

  Stepping closer, she pressed her surging hips against his and felt like she’d come home. Tiny muscles spasmed high up between her thighs, preparing for him, and she writhed, unable to moderate her responses and desperate for so much more.

  He crooned with unmistakable satisfaction. Those big hands left her head, dragged over her bare shoulders and back and clamped onto her butt, molding her soft sex to the rigid length of his erection. Liza cried out, jolted by the raw power of this connection between them, and so did he.

  He shuddered convulsively, making a noise that was more laugh than sob, more joy than pain. Leaving one hand flattened against her butt, he stroked her hair with the other. Tightening his fingers, he tilted her head back and studied her face.

  In the long seconds before he kissed her, she opened her heavy lids and caught a startling glimpse of his expression, which was tortured, astonished and adoring, all at the same time. Staring down at her, he tried to speak, failed, and tried again.

  “I don’t want anything as much as I want you.”

  “John.” His name was all she could say, because the tears swelled in her throat and she wanted so badly to believe that she could mean this much to such a man when she knew in her heart she couldn’t keep a man—had never kept a man. “John.”

  He trailed his searching mouth over her eyes and down her nose before finally zeroing in, and that was where the gentleness ended. As though a switch had been flipped or a page turned, John went wild.

  Taking her lips in a bruising kiss, he made rough, joyous sounds from deep in his throat, rumbles of triumph and possession. After a minute he broke away to stare at her, panting, his eyes glittering and fierce. He shook his head once, looking as astonished and overwhelmed as she felt.

  Then he kissed her again.

  There was no attempt at finesse as they clutched at each other; they were both too far gone for that. Working his thumb into the corner of her mouth, he demanded that she open for him, apparently not wanting to take the chance that she’d refuse. She didn’t. Nor could she imagine ever refusing him anything.

  Sucking and biting—his lips, tongue or thumb, whatever he gave her—she took it all and searched for more, moaning and whimpering. She’d always been loud, but now she made a racket, not that she cared. He was loud, too—crying out when she nipped him, moaning when she sucked—and they drove each other higher, beyond pride or dignity until only their need for each other existed.

  Then he pulled his hands free and went to work. Displaying a huge amount of strength—she was no flyweight, after all—he grabbed her by the hips, picked her up, plunked her on the chest of drawers, which was closer than the bed, and quickly reclaimed his spot between her thighs.

  For one second he gazed at her, his expression rapt and absorbed, but then he was kissing her again, yanking her tank top off over her head, and there was no time for anything else.

  “You’re beautiful.” A velvety murmur of approval—almost a purr—vibrated in his throat as he studied her breasts, her shoulders, her belly, skimming over them all with relentless hands. “It’s killing me to look at you.”

  Lovely as this compliment was, it wasn’t the swift, hard possession she needed and she reached between them to grip his hard length…to stroke…to squeeze. “I need this.” Another squeeze. “I need you. Now, John. Now.”

  This seemed to push him beyond some invisible limit. Groaning, he ran his tongue up the side of her neck, palmed a breast in each hand and circled her nipples with his thumbs, over and over, sending bolts of electric sensation straight through her belly to her pulsing sex.

  “Don’t stop.” Shameless and greedy, not too proud to beg, Liza arched into him. “Don’t ever stop.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  Her body was in charge, not her mind, and her body needed more and needed it now. Obeying her body’s overwhelming demands, she jerked his boxers down and out of their way. When they dropped low enough, he kicked them off and reached for her shorts and panties, which he slid off with much wriggling help from her. At last they were gone, and he tossed this last barrier between them to the floor. The second he did, she coiled around him, arms around his neck, and thighs around his narrow hips, guided by her blinding need.

  As quickly as she touched his bare skin and cradled him between her legs, she flinched, scalded. This skin-to-skin contact of his penis to her throbbing wet sex, once she had it with him, was too much…too hot…too delicious.

  Both gasping for air, they stared at each other, stunned.

  She’d dreamt of this moment. Imagined it. Hoped for it. Blown her fantasies up into unimaginable heights of ecstasy, the kind that only existed in romance novels and romantic comedies. Or so she’d thought.

  The reality with John was better. So unspeakably good it terrified her.

  He held tight when she would have pulled away, chest heaving and eyes feverishly bright. “Let me make love to you.”

  It didn’t sound like a request, but she knew he would stop if she asked. She wouldn’t; that decision had been made long ago, certainly well before she came to his room.

  “About damn time,” she grumbled.

  One edge of his mouth hitched up in a crooked grin of approval and relief, and then he swooped her off the chest of drawers and into his arms. She started to tell him that she could walk, but why would she do that when she could bury her face in his neck and press her tongue to the frantic beat of his pulse? When his unyielding strength made her feel this feminine and powerful?

  Swinging her around, he lowered her to the bed, which was already turned down to reveal cool white sheets, and then stepped away to click on the lamp on the nightstand.

  “I want to see you,” he told her.

  The husky urgency in his voice and unyielding gleam in his dark eyes cut through her sensual daze. Holding his gaze, savoring this moment to the darkest depths of her writhing belly, she scooted back and propped herself on her elbows.

  Tracking her every movement and operating in excruciating slow motion, he took his erection in his hand and stroked himself.

  Liza moaned because her body was open and ready for him—she could feel the honey flowing hot and thick between her legs—and she needed every thick inch of him inside her.

  “Don’t tease me, John. I can’t take it.”

  Merciless now, he ignored the begging. “Touch your breasts, Liza. Squeeze them for me.”

  This man was trying to kill her.

  Trembling, her gaze flickering between his unfathomable eyes and what he was doing to himself with his hands—every up and every down sent piercing streaks of pleasure to Liza’s sex—she rested her head on the pillow and cupped her breasts in her hands, hefting their weight before she flattened her palms against her nipples and circled. Another moan rose up out of her, long and earthy.

  He froze. Swallowed audibly. And resumed his stroking.

  Liza drank in his react
ions as the spasms started in her belly. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to come then and there. When she couldn’t last another second, she reached for him, but he took one step back, stopping her.

  “Are you wet for me?”

  Wet? Was this a joke? Only the Pacific Ocean was wetter than she was.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t believe you.” He paused. “You’d better check.”

  Dying with embarrassment and excitement, Liza reached between her thighs and rubbed herself. Whimpering at this ex quisite sensation, which provided only a small bit of the relief she needed, she lubricated the hard nub that was now the center of her existence.

  His, too, judging from the look in his eyes. “Let me see.”

  Then he was there, stretched out over her, his fingers picking up where she’d left off.

  With a groan, he ran his face and hands all over her torso…one breast…the other breast…belly…hips. There wasn’t an unmarked inch of skin left when he was done with her, not one un-kissed spot. And then he buried his face in the dark triangle of her curls and tasted her, his skillful tongue as tireless as it was relentless.

  With a sharp cry, Liza opened her thighs to welcome him. The edges of her vision blurred with the intensity of the pleasure; only his fingers gripping her hips kept her from squirming off the bed and into oblivion.

  “John. Please.”

  Taking pity on her at last, he straightened and his face was dark with purpose. He never broke eye contact as he reached for the red package on the nightstand. In seconds he was ready, but he trailed his fingers in her juices and then sucked them into his mouth just to prolong her torment.

  “I’m not going to always wear these.” One of his hands gripped his length and ran it between her swollen wet lips in what could only be called torture. She arched her hips for him, but he didn’t accept the invitation. Not yet. “I don’t want anything between us.”

  The note of warning in his voice surprised and distracted her and, impossible though it was, she tried to focus. “Neither do I.” She smiled to entice him. “Come here, John. I need you.”

  Levering himself up over her, he stared down with a mix of exasperation and frustration in his glittering eyes. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” he asked, and his voice was cool but his expression was wild and hot, almost primitive.

  “No.” When was he going to get this party started? Another second or two of waiting was going to send her into cardiac arrest. “All I know is that I want you.”

  “Let me spell it out.”

  That broad head stroked her again, and she writhed beneath him and let her eyes roll closed. For a second or two he nuzzled her mouth, but then he tapped her chin to get her attention.

  She lifted her heavy lids and stared at him with unfocused eyes.

  “I want you to be the mother of my children, Liza.”

  Unsmiling, he entered her in one driving stroke that buried him to the hilt.

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 14

  L iza couldn’t have heard what she’d thought she’d heard, but now was not the time to figure it out. They both cried out, loud and unabashed. Moving together, surging and flowing, they clutched at each other and tried to get closer, but it was no good. Liza crossed her ankles and clung to his hips with every ounce of strength she had, absorbing each punishing thrust and needing more, but it still wasn’t enough. She almost wished she could die right now because a hundred more years of life on this earth could offer her nothing better than this.

  He seemed to feel the same way and gasped. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Yes.” She almost laughed until another well-placed thrust ripped the smile off her face and trapped the air in her throat. “Ahhh…John.”

  The face-to-face intimacy of their position intensified every sensation and heightened their connection more than she would have liked. It was hard to pretend this was just sex when she was staring straight into his shining eyes and seeing his every reaction even as she felt her own.

  As though he knew this, he held her gaze, refusing to look away or let his lowered lids fall closed.

  “Don’t you let another man touch you, Liza. Understand?”

  She understood the primal possessiveness in his expression, all right, and she loved it—even if it set womankind back a thousand years.

  “Yes.”

  “Is this what you need from me?” John’s hips pivoted, every movement an act of ownership and a brand that made her his and no one else’s. “Is this what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want it harder?”

  “Yes.”

  Dark humor shone in his eyes. “I don’t think so.” The wicked man slowed down until he inched into and out of her body as though he was determined to take all night with this single stroke.

  Liza’s heart nearly gave out. Beside herself now, covered with her sweat and his, trembling and hovering at the precipice of an earth-shattering orgasm, she dug her nails into his nape, arched her breasts against slick slabs of his chest and begged.

  “Do it harder,” she panted against his lips. “Harder.”

  “No.”

  Taking her mouth, he kissed her long and deep, an unbearable counterpoint to the slow pace of his thrusts. After a few seconds of this torture, he resumed his interrogation.

  “It’s never been like this for you before.” He said it with the kind of complete certainty that would have annoyed her if she’d been in her right mind. “Has it?”

  Was this a joke? Did he seriously need to ask?

  But still…she didn’t want to admit it. She hesitated, and he knew.

  “Don’t you lie to me.” The warning couldn’t have been clearer. “Has anyone else ever loved you like this?”

  Liza gave up. How could she resist him? Why did she even want to?

  “No.”

  The lamp provided enough light for her to see the raw satis faction in his eyes. He glowed with it, wallowed in it. “And no one ever will.”

  No, she silently agreed. No one ever would.

  Catching her mouth again, he licked and nipped his way inside, and the sounds he made were helpless and broken. Thrilling. This time when he pulled back, there was a half smile on his swollen lips.

  “You’re never getting rid of me now, Liza. You know that, right?”

  Wrung out as she was, she still managed a quick responding smile, a whispered tease. “Why would I ever want to get rid of you, Senator?”

  His attention slipped away with a groan, and that was it for the talking.

  Something about their position apparently dissatisfied him and, without warning, he gripped her butt, surged to his feet, swung her around and, still deep inside her, backed her against the wall.

  Cursing, he buried his face between her neck and shoulder and increased his tempo until his hips moved with the force of a piston. His frenzied pumping nearly drove her through the plaster into the room on the other side.

  It was the ride of her life. Frantic now, hanging on for all she was worth, Liza tightened her thighs around his hips, adjusted her body just slightly and angled herself so that he hit the exact right spot.

  Ecstasy streaked through her. Ruined by the force of it, Liza threw her head back and came, the violent inner clenching of her muscles strong and endless enough to trigger an earthquake.

  Her keening was so loud by then that she almost missed the hoarse shout that told her he was coming, too. But there was no way she could miss the way his shudders shook his big body and turned all that living marble to stone as his muscles tensed. Tightening his hold on her, he rode it out, crying her name over and over again.

  They’d collapsed against the wall and were still trying to recover enough to catch their breath when a terrible noise destroyed the moment in the worst kind of surprise: his phone chirped from the nightstand.

  Liza froze, and John swore. All their separate realities reared their ugly heads, reminding
Liza that even if she wanted a relationship, she could never have one with him because his responsibilities took him in one direction and hers took her in another.

  His fingers tightened reflexively on her hips, holding her to him, but then he raised his head and there was open regret in his eyes.

  “I have to get that. I’m sorry.”

  Liza nodded, mortification already setting in.

  Moving carefully and with all the reluctance in the world, he set her on her feet and snatched his phone up by the fourth ring. “Yeah?” he snarled, grabbing her when she would have stepped away and reeling her in until her back was to his front and he’d pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He kept her close and listened and did not let her go even when he heard something that made his entire body stiffen.

  “Give me ten minutes.” He hung up and let her go. When she turned to face him, his face was tight with worry. “There’s been a string of tornadoes in Tennessee, Arkansas, Kentucky and Alabama. It’s bad. We’ve got to go.”

  “Oh, God. That’s part of the nasty storm system that grounded our flight.”

  “Yeah.” Nodding, he took a deep breath. “We need to talk, Liza.”

  She knew he was right, but the enormity of what they had done was beginning to set in and she just couldn’t deal with A Big Talk now. Not with his delicious musk on her skin, his taste in her mouth and her skin still hungry for his touch.

  “It’s a little late for talking, isn’t it?” Pulling free, she turned her back on his grim face and found her clothes.

  Despite the emergency, he seemed in no hurry to do the same and, after getting rid of the condom in the bathroom, came back and stood there in all his considerable glory. “How can we build a relationship?”

  “We can’t,” she said flatly. “This was a one-time thing.”

  “Liza—”

  “Do you know what’s going to happen if we keep this up?”

  He answered with unmistakable dread. “No.”

  “I’m going to end up like that woman in The Godfather novel—”

  “No, Liza.”

  The sudden sharpness in his tone told her he knew exactly which woman she was talking about. She tried to laugh, but there was nothing amusing about any of this.