Diana Palmer - Diana Palmer Collected 1-6 - Soldier of Fortune / Tender Stranger / Enamored / Mystery Man / Rawhide and Lace / Unlikely Lover

She hadn’t meant to go to sleep so soon, but the first thing she knew the dawn light was streaming in through the windows, bringing her wide awake.

Sleepily she stretched, and became suddenly aware of where she was. She sat up, eyes wide, and looked around for J.D. It took only a second to find him. He was standing at the window, his profile to her, looking out. And he didn’t have a stitch of clothing on his body.

Her eyes were riveted on him. She’d seen men without clothes. These days, with all the explicit films, it was impossible to avoid nudity. But she’d never seen a nude man close up, like this. And she imagined that J.D. would please even the eyes of an experienced woman.

He was all powerful muscle, with dark shadows of hair feathering every inch of him. His legs were long and muscular, his hips narrow, his stomach flat. His chest was broad and bronzed and a wedge of thick black hair curled over it. She stared at him helplessly, unashamedly—until she happened to look up and saw him watching her.

Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, but she couldn’t get anything out.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “If I’d found you in the same condition, I’d be staring just as hard. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

“I don’t wear pajamas,” he murmured with an amused look. “I expected to be awake before you were. It was a hot night.”

“Yes,” she managed, choking.

He moved back toward the bed, and she sat there frozen, unable to make even the pretense of looking the other way. It didn’t seem to bother him at all. He bent down, catching her by the arms, and dragged her out of the bed and against his body.

He laughed deep in his throat, the sound of it predatory, primitive. “Touch me,” he dared her. His hands caught hers and ran them over his sleek hips, up his spine, and around to the matted tangle of hair over his warm chest.

Her breath was trapped somewhere beneath her ribs, and her fingers burrowed into the crisp hair over his heart.

“Yes, you like it, don’t you?” he asked in a voice like rough velvet, his eyes narrow and black and hot on her face. “But not half as much as I do. I’ve dreamed about this, night after endless night, about how your hands would feel touching me. What do I look like to those innocent eyes, Gabby? Do I frighten you…please you? Which?”

She was drunk with the feel of him, the smell of him. Her hands roamed over his chest, his rib cage. With a long sigh she leaned her forehead on his collarbone. “You please me,” she whispered. “Can’t you tell? Oh, Jacob…!” Her hands pressed harder, more urgently. “Jacob, I want to do such shameless things.”

“Such as?” he asked in a whisper. “Such as, Gabby?” He covered her hands with his own and she felt their faint tremor. “I won’t hurt you. Do whatever you want to do.”

It wasn’t fair that he should have such power over her, she thought dazedly. She was too intoxicated, too hungry, to listen to the cool voice of reason. Her hands smoothed over his chest, around his back, and with an instinct she didn’t even know she had, her mouth opened and pressed against the center of his chest.

He groaned harshly, shocking her. She lifted wide, curious eyes to his.

“I like it,” he whispered huskily. “Do it again.”

She moved closer, and his hands caught her head, guiding her mouth to the places he wanted it, while the silence lengthened and grew around them and J.D.’s breath came raggedly and in gasps. She learned so much about him all at once. That she drove him wild when she rubbed her cheek across his taut nipples, that he liked the curl of her tongue around the tangled hair. That she could nip him gently with her teeth and make him go rigid. That he wanted her badly enough to tremble.

“This isn’t fair, Jacob,” she whispered shakily, “I’m making you miserable, I’m…”

His thumb pressed across her mouth. His face looked strained, but his eyes were blazing. “I want it,” he whispered roughly.

“But I’m hurting you,” she said achingly.

“Such a sweet hurt,” he whispered, bending. “So sweet, so beautiful…let me make you ache like this, Gabby. I won’t seduce you, I promise I won’t, but let me touch you…”

His hand moved between them and lightly touched her breast. The gown was thin, and his fingers were warm, and the sudden intimacy was shocking and pleasurable, all at once.

She gasped and instinctively caught his fingers. He lifted his head and looked down, and he smiled.

“Habit?” he whispered.

Her fingers lingered on his hairy wrist. “I…I haven’t ever let…” she began.

“You’ll let me.” His face nuzzled hers, his cheek rubbed gently against hers and he found her mouth, cherishing it with a whispery soft pressure that was wildly exciting.

And all the while, his fingers were shaping, probing, lightly brushing until they caused a helpless reaction in her body. He drew the gown tightly around her breasts and lifted his head.

“Look,” he said softly, directing her eyes down to the rigid peaks outlined under the gown. “Do you know what it means, what your body tells me when that happens?”

Her lips opened as she tried to breathe. “It means…that I want you,” she whispered back.

“Yes.” He brushed her lips apart with his, tracing the line of them with his tongue. His teeth caught her upper lip and nibbled gently, tugging it, smiling as she reached up to do the same thing to his.

“Jacob,” she whispered. Her hands crept around his neck. “Jacob…” She arched and pressed herself to him, and froze, shocked at what his taut body was telling hers.

“Body language,” he whispered, coaxing her mouth open again. “Now listen. I’m going to strip you out of that gown and hold you to me, just for a second, and then I’m going to get the hell out of here before I go crazy. I don’t know what we’ll be walking into today. I want one perfect memory to take with me, you understand?”

She did. Because it was just dawning on her that she was in love with him. Why else would she be doing this?

She felt his hands unbuttoning the garment and she looked up because she wanted to see his face, she wanted to remember always the expression on it. In case anything happened…

He eased the gown off her shoulders and she felt it suddenly drop to the floor. She felt the whisper of the breeze against her bare skin. J.D.’s eyes blazed as he looked down at her body. And then he drew her to him, and she felt herself go rigid all over.

“I won’t live long enough to forget how this feels,” he whispered. “Now kiss me, one last time.”

And she did, with all her heart and soul, without a single inhibition. And her arms held him and they fused together in a silence gone mad with tangible hunger.

He groaned as if he were being tortured and his arms hurt her, his lips hurt, his tongue thrust into her mouth in a deliciously fierce invasion. Finally he drew back, shaking, and put her from him.

He bent, picked up the nightgown, and gently drew it back on her without a single word.

“Worth dying for,” he whispered, studying her luminous eyes, her swollen mouth, her flushed cheeks. “God, you’re sweet.”

“Jacob, don’t go out there,” she pleaded.

“I have to.” He bent and retrieved his clothes from a chair where he must have flung them the night before and began to dress.

“But you’re a lawyer,” she persisted. She wiped away a tear and sat down heavily on the side of the bed, her green eyes wide and frightened. “You aren’t a soldier.”

“But I was, honey,” he said as he tugged on his jungle fatigues. He turned, buttoning the shirt, his eyes dark and mysterious as they searched hers. “You still haven’t worked it out, have you, Gabby?”