Natalie Anderson - In Bed With the Enemy

But the thing short-circuiting her completely was the way they stood nose to nose and eye to eye. Unbearably intimate. He kissed her—little teasing kisses broken by the occasional lush, deep one. She could see his passion, the raw, unbridled desire. It was so intense she had to close her eyes against it. She couldn’t believe that all the fiery want in his gaze was for her.

‘Look at me,’ he growled. ‘Let me see.’ As he spoke he maintained his rhythm, driving her, knowing exactly what he was doing—how close she was. How moved she was—how much she wanted him. How good he made her feel—how much more he made her want.

And that was what he wanted—she knew. He wanted to see her hit orgasm. He wanted to miss nothing. He wanted all her secret wishes—and to know that he was the one who’d fulfilled them. And just that thought—that frightening, exhilarating thought—made her come all the quicker. Because it was him doing this to her.

Her body tautened, then convulsed as the waves tumbled over her—so powerful that for an instant she was scared. But then it was too good to think of anything but how incredible it was. She didn’t know if she cried out—all she could hear was the hiss of his satisfaction, the grit of his teeth as he held her through the rapturous storm and forced himself to stay that half-step behind her.

She sucked breaths in harder, unable to recover as he thrust more forcefully. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him so he couldn’t look away from her either. She half laughed, mostly cried with sensual delight, as she saw the signs of unbearable strain in his face—the clenched muscles, the veins popping in his neck, the pained, desperate look in eyes that suddenly widened, but were blinded as it swamped him.

‘Oh, yes,’ she sobbed. Her blood pulsed—in her lips, in her most intimate nerve centre—as the sight and feel of him, so tortured by her, sent her back to the pinnacle of ecstasy.

His movements went wild. His body jerked as he lost the fight against holding off. He shouted—a raw, masculine response—as release surged and the moment of ultimate pleasure was his. All she could do then was cling.

His hands shifted, clasping round her middle, and he held on to her tightly, his forehead pressing into her shoulder. She felt his harsh, ragged breathing gusting down her sweat-soaked skin. Her own breathing was irregular, her brain dizzy. Her legs were completely wobbly. So did was her heart.

‘Are you going to let me go?’ she asked, her voice woefully small.

‘No.’ With sheer brute strength he lifted her, sliding one hand under her legs so he could carry her more comfortably. Dexterously, between his third and fourth fingers, he scooped up another condom packet that had fallen on the edge of the sofa. ‘Which is your room?’

She directed him, and he walked with ridiculous ease. He placed her on the bed, but immediately followed with a smooth lunge. Taking the bulk of his weight on his elbows, he pressed his lower half firmly on hers—so she couldn’t escape.

‘Oh,’ she said, needing to strive for some kind of control in this shattering situation. ‘You want to be dominant?’

‘No,’ he breathed.

Nadia’s voice failed as she saw his burnt brown eyes had refilled with that passionate fire. He bent his head and kissed the last remaining brain cell out of her. His tongue swept into her mouth in gliding strokes, over and over, while his hands framed her face, holding her up to him—open. Yeah right he didn’t want to be dominant.

By the time he’d finished she was uncontrollably rocking her hips, grinding against him in a way that was desperate and hungry and unbelievably happy, running her hands up and down his slick, muscular back. He looked down with smug satisfaction as she panted and writhed beneath him.

His low whisper positively purred. ‘You’re not running out on me again.’

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