by Lucy Monroe
“Henry is your first name?”
Hal’s mouth thinned briefly. No one, except his father, had ever addressed him as Henry and he’d never accepted that hated name from a lover.
Rosalind’s breath caught as his fingers teased the pulse point under her jaw.
“Indeed. But you’ll call me Hal tonight.” He breathed the last syllables against her lips before he kissed her again.
And he’d wager a year’s profits that this lady wouldn’t bore him within the hour, unlike every other respectable woman he’d ever met.
Rosalind’s willpower fled as soon as his lips met hers again. Her body had even less interest in maintaining sanity this time than it had exhibited on the stairs. Months of loneliness fled, banished by the hunger racing through her blood, fueled by his demanding mouth and hands.
His hands fondled her back and swept down over her ass, cupping it and pulling her close. She moaned and wiggled against him, driven half-wild by the first feel of his magnificent hard cock, outlined by his trousers’ rough wool. The scent of lilacs spilled into the room from the garden beyond, like a call to sensual delights.
He growled something and slid his hand inside the back of her waistband.
Rosalind jerked and stared up at Hal, panting for breath. How had he known she loved to have her backside fondled? Her breasts ached for his touch, her pulse thundered through her veins, and heat pulsed and melted and pooled between her thighs. “Hal,” she moaned.
He stared down at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes blazed blue fire, like a pirate gazing at golden treasure. “Damn, I need to see you.”
Fire seared her at the hunger in his blue eyes.
Don’t miss Amy J. Fetzer’s
ultrahot and supersexy thriller
NAKED TRUTH
coming in August 2005 from Brava…
Killian flinched, slapped his hand over his gun, instantly awake. The drapes leading to the deck blew inward and he slid to the floor, tracking shadows and moonlight. The remaining door was still locked, traps in place, and he rose slowly, moving to the open door, then relaxed when he saw her. She stood at the low rail, the east China breeze pushing her hair back with the folds of the silk robe.
Hell of a sight, he thought, like a fantasy played out; hair flying, the thin fabric whipping and molding her body in the moonlight.
“Alexa.” She didn’t open her eyes but knew he was there.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Are you nuts to be out here?”
“Maybe.”
He came to her, leaving the gun close. “How’d you get past the traps?”
She smiled softly. “I have my talents,” she said, staring out at the port.
There was something different about her, her expression was more relaxed than before, almost serene.
“Isn’t it beautiful out here?”
He glanced; the city and harbor lights sparkled on a sea of black. “I guess.”
Alexa smiled. “Spoken like a true warrior,” she said.
Killian was still, tempted to reach for her, but if he put a single finger on her, it was a mark he could never erase. Alexa could be programmed, a traitor, even if she didn’t know it or had no control. That he hadn’t updated his men said he was bending the wrong way in this battle, yet she’d proven to be his ultimate temptation. Everything he desired in a woman. He faced that somewhere around the witching hour, yet knew it long before, probably from that first kiss in the jungle. Halfway through his third shot of whiskey, he went macho, telling himself she was the best fuck on the planet and that’s all it was. But he wasn’t into lying, even to himself.
He didn’t want just her body, he wanted her soul.
He took a step, crossing a line, and moved behind her, sliding his arms around her waist.
“Oh, I was hoping for that.” She sighed back into him, closing her hand over his.
Just to feel her soft length against him was enough to make him rock hard. The sleek curve of her throat beckoned him and he pressed his mouth there, feeling her pulse beneath his lips. It nurtured something in him, this need to close the distance between them, and when she twisted enough to kiss him, pushing his hands where she wanted, Killian wanted her more than ever. He pulled at the sash, exposed her warm flesh to the moonlight, circling her nipple with his thumb, his free hand sliding down to lay flat on her belly. She wiggled in his arms, pushing his hand, deepening his touch. He slid slower, his finger diving between her warm folds, becoming coated with her liquid. She moaned, a delicious purr as she pushed back into his erection. She turned, sliding her hand under his shirt and pushing it off over his head. Then her mouth was on his nipple, lips tugging.
“No clothes this time,” she whispered.
“I thought you said there wouldn’t be a next time.”
“I lied.” She slicked his nipple and Killian felt his world shudder. “Aren’t you glad?” She opened his jeans.
“You have no idea.”
BRAVA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 2005 by Lucy Monroe
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Brava and the B logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN 978-0-7582-6130-4