Free Friends and Lovers by Diana Palmer Page A

time.”
    “For both of us,” he said enigmatically. He sat down, holding her across his lap, her cheek against his shoulder. “Would you like it blunt, with no dressing up? I’m half-exhausted. I did more work today than I’ve done in weeks, and I’m feeling it. And tomorrow morning I’ve got to be up at six to attend a business conference out of town. A little light lovemaking is all I’m up to—despite the fact that I want you like hell every time I touch you.”
    She breathed a little easier, but her eyes remained troubled. “Where are we going together?” she asked uncertainly.
    He brushed the hair away from her eyes gently, studying her like an exquisite painting. “To a new place,” he murmured. “Full of discovery and surprises. Don’t be afraid.”
    “Of you?” She smiled up at him. “You’re my friend. I’d do anything for you.” The smile faded as she searched his darkening eyes. She reached up to touch his mouth, and the mustache was velvety against her fingertips. “Anything, John.”
    She could feel the heavy, hard shudder of his heartbeat under her. His eyes were turbulent, his hands suddenly rough as they curled her body into his. Outside, the wind and rain raged unnoticed.
    “I can’t go back to the way we were before,” he said quietly. “You
do
realize that? I won’t pressure you into something you don’t want, but a platonic relationship is out of the question now.”
    She toyed with a pearly button on his shirt. “Yes, I know that,” she admitted. She let her head slide back against his hard-muscled arm, staring up at him lazily, unblinkingly. Her body felt strange, welcoming, her mind registered a new and urgent hunger. Unconsciously, she stretched like a kitten, the lines of her body fluid as it arched slightly, her breasts lifted to push against the clinging gold fabric of her gown.
    “My God, don’t do that!” he breathed gruffly, watching her.
    “Why?” she chided through half-closed eyes.
    “You know why, you little redheaded witch!” he growled as he bent his head, and she felt the sudden, hungry crush of his mouth as it took possession of her parted lips.
    She turned in his arms, pressing as close as she could, her arms reaching up to hold him while he fed hungrily on her soft, yielding mouth.
    She protested only once, gently, when his teeth nipped painfully against her lower lip in his desperate ardor.
    He drew back a whisper, his eyes wild, his breath coming like a track runner’s. “I hurt you,” he said unsteadily.
    “It doesn’t matter,” she breathed, stretching up to him. “Do it again…”
    His fingers trailed down her throat as he kissed her again, more carefully this time, deeper, his tongue easing slowly, ardently, into the sweet darkness of her mouth. She tensed as she felt his hard fingers at the neckline of her dress, but they didn’t trespass. They only tantalized, tracing the neckline with a lazy, tormenting pressure that made her finally arch toward him with a sharp little moan.
    “What’s wrong?” he murmured wickedly.
    She buried her face in his neck, trembling with the hungers he was raising so effortlessly. “John, please…” she whispered shakily.
    “Like this, Satin, is this what you want?” he asked sensuously, letting his fingers slide with exquisite tenderness over the high, firm curve of her breasts, covered only by the thin gold material.
    She stiffened, trembling at the new intimacy she was allowing. Her nails bit into his shoulders at the intensity of emotion the feathery touch ignited.
    “Look at me,” he whispered gruffly. “Let me see…”
    She raised her eyes to his, and he read with pinpoint accuracy the wild, singeing fever he was creating in her slim body.
    “Fireworks,” she managed, her voice as unsteady as her breathing.
    “Is that how it feels?” he asked quietly. He caught one of her slender hands and laid it against his shirt. “Touch me. I’ll let you see what it does to me.”
    Her fingers