He kissed her again. He kissed her and reason fled, storming away from Lela on an unreasoning tide. She wrapped one hand around the back of his head, holding a hank of his down-soft The lonian hair. Her traitorous hand twined in it, giving her a momentary illusion that she had some control over what was happening, but illusion was all it was.
He let his weight down carefully upon her, chest pressing her breasts, hip against hip, legs twined with hers so that she felt points of fire along her entire body. Everywhere he touched her seemed hot, so hot, and his kiss was wanton and demanding. Men had kissed her that way before and she had been repulsed. Caius kissed her that way and she moaned low in the back of her throat and opened her mouth. His erection was heavy and pressed her belly.
At last he raised his face from hers and his lips sought the place near the hollow of her shoulder that made her shudder when he nipped gently and then soothed the bite with his tongue. Unthinking, she let her hand drift to the back of his neck. The other was trapped between their bodies in a position where she might try to push him away, but she knew she wouldn’t.
“Caius, truly, I can’t,” she protested, and missed his smile in the dark. She had used his name—a very telling thing.
“You needn’t,” he said. “Just let me touch you.”
Touch her. It sounded innocent enough…it was anything but innocent. He shifted slightly—so slightly—and touched the tip of her breast with the tip of his tongue. She gasped and her back arched, beyond her control, and he slid an arm behind the small of her back as quickly as thought and lifted her. Lifted her strongly, possessively, and without the slightest protest from her. He took her nipple into his mouth, suckling deeply, and she cried out.
Her breasts ached and throbbed deliciously—a wonderful torment that couldn’t be soothed. Holding her, he let his kisses rain down her body, finding every sensitive spot while she lay helpless in his embrace. Eventually she simply couldn’t restrain herself any longer and pressed into his kisses, panting in distress.
“I don’t even like you,” she said plaintively.
She felt the explosion of his breath against her skin. He was beside himself with mirth, shaking in her arms, laughing so hard that a reluctant grin quirked the corners of her mouth.
“Oh, Lela,” he moaned, pausing in his seduction. “I don’t think liking has anything to do with this.”
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