Janelle Denison - Wild Fantasy

Abruptly, he turned around to face her. Silver moonlight cast shadows over his lean, handsome features and made his eyes glitter with purpose. He was unadulterated male magnetism, raw and untamed, and a trifle dangerous. But it wasn’t him she feared; rather it was her own electrifying response to all that strong-willed aggression.

Excitement and apprehension mingled. She’d met her match. She shivered at the thought, aware that they were very much alone. She could hear the faint, faraway voices of the people at the mixer and the crash of the waves on the shore behind her—or was that the frantic pounding of her heart against her chest that was echoing in her ears?

He stepped toward her, and she took a hasty step back—and found herself pressed up against the locked door of the shack. He moved closer and, before she could side-step him, he flattened his hands on either side of her shoulders, trapping her between hard, rough wood and his unyielding length. He didn’t touch her physically, not yet anyway. But she could feel the simmering heat of his body and see the predatory light in his stare. While everything within her urged her to duck beneath his arm and bolt, she stood her ground.

She’d never been afraid of confrontation or conflict—she’d experienced plenty of both through her childhood and her one-sided relationship with Jonathan. She refused to retreat now, no matter how much this man continually evoked varying degrees of emotions from her. At the moment, wicked desire was most prominent.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, and wished her voice sounded more convincing, instead of so breathless.

He bent his head and skimmed his mouth along her cheek to the delicate shell of her ear, a riveting touch all the more erotic for what it promised. “I’m about to prove I can be just as reckless and daring as you,” he said, his voice a ragged kind of velvet as dark as the night around them.

Her pulse quickened as she watched his full, sensual lips descend toward hers to make good on his word. She prepared herself for a wild, outrageous kiss—the kind of frenzied joining that would reflect their tempestuous relationship so far. Her posture stiffened, ready to divert his domination with some kind of defiant response.

She couldn’t have been more wrong in her assumption.

With lazy deliberation, he brushed his mouth along hers, throwing her off-kilter with his featherlight, velvety strokes designed to soften her demeanor. Warm, delicate kisses to coax an ultimate surrender. And despite knowing she ought to do something to stop his slow seduction, her lashes fluttered closed and she rewarded his sensuous efforts with a sultry moan that was pure pleasure, without a trace of any protest.

Mitch knew the moment that Nicole was his for the taking, and experienced a surge of supreme satisfaction. This woman, for all her impudence and stubbornness and sass, couldn’t refute the undeniable craving between them. Her warm, fragrant breath fanned his lips, intoxicating him with the ambrosial scent of sweet apricots and chocolate, a rare delicacy he had every intention of sampling deeper. Very, very soon.

Threading his fingers through the thick, silky strands of her hair, he smoothed his thumbs beneath her jaw to keep her face tipped up and her mouth poised right below his. Holding her slumberous gaze, he closed the distance between their bodies, gradually easing his hard length against her ultrasoft curves until he’d imprinted her from breast to thighs with scorching heat and pulsing awareness.

This time, it was him that groaned, at the rightness of this woman in his embrace, and the primitive need that gripped and consumed him. Done tormenting them both, he settled his mouth over hers. His tongue flicked out to taste and tease and gather the exotic flavor that was uniquely hers, and her lips parted on a breathy sigh, giving him the invitation he sought.

Tipping her head just slightly, he slanted his mouth across hers. His tongue delved deep inside in a slow, thorough invasion that was as sensual as it was possessive. He kissed her languidly, and with consummate, insatiable patience, until she grew pliant and just as needy as he.

He swallowed the raw whimper that rumbled in her throat, but there was nothing he could do to stop the restless way she moved against him. Not that he wanted her to stop, but she was making him harder and more aroused than he could ever remember being. She raised her hands, sliding them between their bodies—not to push him away, but to press her palms to the flat planes of his belly, explore along his waist, and caress the slope of his back. Her open and honest touch kindled a fever in his blood, caused his heart to beat a heavy cadence, and spurred him to higher levels of desire.

Their kiss turned hungry, rapacious—deep and wet and every bit as sexual as the currents arcing between them. Loosening the fingers of one hand tangled in her hair, he glided his palm down the smooth column of her throat and swept his thumb over the rapid pulse at the base. She shuddered and parried her tongue with his, leaving him aching with anticipation and overwhelmed with need.

Wanting to experience more of her, as much as she’d allow, he continued his downward journey and cupped the lush softness of her breast in his hand. She groaned and arched and offered more. He felt her nipple tighten and bead against his palm, and guessed that she was wearing a very flimsy bra—one of those sheer, lacy numbers that was more for show than substance. The erotic images leaping to life in his mind, combined with the reality of the moment, nearly sent him over the edge.

He rubbed his finger over the straining tip, wishing she was naked to his gaze, so he could take her in his mouth, finesse the budding hardness with his teeth and tongue, and taste her as he’d thought about earlier. A low growl erupted from him and he almost lost it completely when she skimmed her hands over the curve of his buttocks, clenched her fingers in the tight muscles encased in denim, and rocked her hips against his. Sensations bordering on pleasure and pain ricocheted through him, demanding he make a choice between release or restraint, and quickly, or else his body would make the decision for him.

There was nothing remotely responsible, respectable or strait-laced about what they were doing, as she’d accused him of being. Which reminded him of his purpose in seeking seclusion and deliberately playing this seductive game. Indisputably, he’d proved that he could be just as reckless and daring as her, but there was one other concession still left unresolved between them, and he meant to revel in that victory, too.

His breathing was harsh and ragged when he finally, reluctantly, stopped the madness and broke their kiss. Instead of withdrawing completely, he let his lips drift along her jaw and down the side of her throat. Seemingly lost in the haze of passion, her head fell back to give him better access as he scattered hot, damp kisses up to her ear.

“Call me Mitch,” he murmured, his voice a husky command. Nuzzling the sensitive hollow where neck met shoulder, he laved her fragrant skin with his tongue and wasn’t surprised to taste the delectable essence of sweet, ripe apricots. He lifted his head and stared deep into her eyes. “Say my name, Nicole.”

Her tongue slid across her lower lip, pink and swollen from their ardent kisses. “Mitch…” she complied on a hushed moan.

It was as much of an acquiescence as he could expect from her, and he’d take it for now. “I knew you had it in you, sweetheart. And now that we’ve established that we’re equally competent and qualified, and extremely compatible, there’s only one thing left to do.”

As if she just realized what her palms were fondling, she dropped her hands from his buttocks and planted them flat against the wall behind her. The silvered moonlight highlighted the becoming flush that swept along her cheekbones. “And what’s that?”