Free Charade by Barri Bryan Page A

asked on the end of a caught breath, “Trace?"
    With his back to her, Trace answered, “Yes?"
    There comes a time in every situation when a man reaches a point of no return. Trace knew if he turned to face Lynn now, he would reach that point.
    Lynn whispered, “Will you turn around?"
    He couldn't, not until he was certain she wanted this encounter as badly as he did. “Are you sure that's what you want?"
    Her hand was warm on his shoulder. “I'm sure."
    That was all the encouragement Trace needed. Turning he swept her into his arms. Her body was soft and warm against his. For long moments he held her, intoxicated by her heady scent and captivated by her aura of femininity. His fogged brain chanted, no, no, no. His aching body knew only need and desire.
    Lifting Lynn into his arms he carried her to the bedroom, set her on her feet and took her face in his hands. “I want you, Lynn Evans.” He added in a lower, huskier tone, “So very much."
    A soft night light burning on a nightstand cast long shadows across her face, emphasizing the incredible sweep of her long dark lashes, and accentuating the soft lines and planes. “I want you too, Trace Randolph."
    Trace drew her even closer and shaped the fullness of her lips with his tongue before asking, “How do I get you out of this dress?"
    A shudder ran through her body as she rested her head against the wall of his chest. “Can you feel the little hook and eye at the neck?"
    Trace found the neck of her dress. “What now?” His hands shook and his breath came in little gasps.
    Lynn laughed deep in her throat, sending a wave of desire rippling through him. “It's really very simple, just take the hook from the eye, find the tip of the zipper beneath it, and pull down."
    Trace unfastened the hook and was reaching for the zipper when the brightness of a sane thought pierced the fog of his passion-addled brain. Was he taking advantage of Lynn's slightly inebriated condition? He had to know, because if that were the case, as badly as he wanted this sweet coming together, he would be out the door and down the stairs in the wink of an eye. Leaning back he studied her face. “Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
    Lynn wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her body into his hardness. “I know exactly what I'm doing, and I know exactly what I want. Make love to me."
    Trace's last reservation fell away. He unzipped the dress and watched as she stepped back and slipped it from her shoulders. It fell around her feet.
    She wore only a pair of bikini panties. Her large, perfectly formed breasts swayed seductively as she shed her panties and tossed them away.
    Trace's breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful—all white and ivory, with that mane of red hair that matched so well the thatch of red between her legs. He yanked at the grippers on his shirt as the need to be near her, on her, in her, cast out every other thought and resolve.
    Lynn tugged at one shirt sleeve. His arm slid free, first one and then the other. She tossed the shirt aside as Trace unfastened his belt.
    Over the click of his buckle he said, “That dress didn't do you justice. My God, you are beautiful.” He shed his pants and underwear and left them where they fell. Lifting Lynn into his arms, he laid her gently on the bed before coming down beside her. He took her in his arms and brushed his lips through her hair. “I want to make love to you."
    She ran one smooth hand over his shoulder and down his back. “That's what I want too.” Pushing back, she stared up into his eyes and said, “I hope you won't be disappointed."
    Later Trace would look back and ponder those words. Now he was so lost in the magic that was spinning between him and this warm, willing woman that he brushed them aside without further thought. “I won't be, and neither will you, I promise."
    The heat of passion that had been smoldering through the long evening ignited and burst into a flaming conflagration. They came