Free One Reckless Night by Sara Craven Page A

slight catch in her voice. 'And then it was-over.'
      'Not at all.' There was a smile in his voice. 'That, my lovely one, was only the very beginning.' He took her hand, placed a kiss on its smooth palm, and carried it to his body. 'You see, Susie,' he whispered, 'you're allowed to touch me too.'
      She said uncertainly. 'You mean that's what you want-all you want?'
      'Oh, no,' he told her softly. 'I don't mean that at all. As I shall soon make more than clear. You see, my sweet, I suspect that your capacity for pleasure is greater than you could ever have dreamed.'
      Her voice was uneven. 'You don't know. You don't understand...'
      'But you're wrong.' His hands were gentle as he drew her to him, his voice little more than a murmur. 'So wrong.'
      His mouth on hers was a flame now, warming her, reviving her. Under his silent urging she began to explore his body in turn, savoring with renewed hunger the hidden strength of bone and muscle. At his loins she hesitated, her fingers shy at first as she clasped him, encircled him. His swift, involuntary groan of pleasure drew her on, filled her with unfamiliar daring. She was entranced by his delight-by the sense of power it bestowed. Tonight she was learning her own womanhood-realizing what it meant to be desired, and, with increasing insistence, to desire.
      His hands were on her breasts again, making them bloom and swell in excitement as his fingertips teased her flesh. His mouth found hers again, his tongue flickering across her parted lips before seeking and exploring the moist depths. A mirror image and a promise, she realized hungrily, of other delights soon to follow.
      She was molten with longing, stricken to the heart with the need he was arousing in her.
      And, in recognition of its mutuality, she felt the graze of his thigh between hers as he raised himself over her and then, with one fluid, silken thrust, entered her.
      For one moment in time she was mute, motionless, her eyes widening endlessly as she stared up at him, assimilating the reality of his possession, the actual physical sensation of holding him, enclosed within her.
        Then, quite simply, in total acceptance, complete surrender, she lifted herself against him-and gasped at his instant, unequivocal response.
      They moved together in a kind of controlled frenzy, mouths locked together, sweat mingling as their bodies twisted in heated, endless demand. As if, Zanna thought, in one coherent corner of her reeling mind, this were the sole reason for their creation. This glorious, voracious, burning urgency driving them relentlessly on to some undreamed of culmination.
      When their climax was reached, Zanna felt as if she were being torn apart, body and soul. Every sensation was so acute, she thought she might die of pleasure. From some distant place she heard Jake cry out, his voice hoarse, almost unrecognisable.
      They drifted back to earth, and a kind of sanity, still close in each other's arms.
      When she could speak, Zanna said huskily, 'Is it- always like that?'
      'No.' The negation was shaken, almost curt. His body was still joined to hers, his head heavy against the curve of her shoulder. She touched the tangle of his dampened hair and, smiling, drifted into sleep.
      She woke to his kiss. Her lids lifted slowly, languidly, to find him bending over her. She smiled up at him and slid a hand between the lapels of the toweling robe he was wearing.
      Jake captured her straying fingers and kissed them. 'Presently.' His voice-the look in his eyes-promised other yet-undreamed-of delights, and she shivered, but not with cold, as he drew back the covers.
      He held out a robe that matched his own. 'Now I have a surprise for you, Susie.'
      He led her out of the room and along the landing. The bathroom door was open, and a warm breath of roses and jasmine drifted on the air.
      Zanna caught her breath. The bath had been filled with gently steaming water, and flames like captive