Free 'Til the End of Time by Iris Johansen Page B

muscles of her back tense. “Sandor?”
    “Turn around.” His voice was hoarse. “I want to see you.”
    “I don’t think—” She stopped. She could feel his gaze on her naked back, and it was sending shivers of sensation through her. Heat. Touching her breasts, burrowing between her thighs. She closed her eyes. She had been about to protest, but she had sensed that this was coming. It was another step forward in their relationship. A step she wanted to take. “I want you to see me.”
    She turned to face him. She threw back her head proudly, watching his face as he looked at her. Her large breasts were firm and ripe, and she was not ashamed of either their size or the response she knew would be obvious to him. She didn’t have to look down to know how swollen or taut she was or how her nipples were jutting outin hard, pointed invitation. She could see it in his eyes as they fastened on her with raw intensity. She inhaled sharply, the muscles of her belly flinching as if from a balled fist.
    “Come here,” he said thickly, not taking his gaze from her breasts. He dropped to the ground the knapsack and towel he was carrying. To free his hands for her, she thought with a flare of excitement mingled with panic. “Please,” he added.
    She began to walk toward him. The water was cool and heavy as it ran over her thighs and buttocks. She felt only heat. She was burning up. Sandor was burning too. She could see the flush darken the tan of his cheeks, and his eyes … His hand reached out and pulled her from the water to the bank. She felt a sudden shyness pierce her former serenity. “You’re very polite,” she said with an attempt at lightness. “Do you always say please when you want something?”
    He didn’t raise his gaze from the full invitation of her breasts. “I’ll say anything you want to hear, if you’ll let me keep looking at you.” His words came jerkily. “And I’ll do anything you want me to do, if you’ll let me touch you.” He slowly bent his head. “Will you let me touch you, Alessandra?”
    She couldn’t answer. Her throat tightened and then closed entirely when his tongue licked delicately at a drop of water beading the pink crest of her breast. Her body gave its own response, and she heard him laugh with husky delight before. his lips closed on her nipple. She moaned, the bar of soap dropping to the ground as her hands fluttered up to tangle in his hair. His mouth was moving with hot, moist urgency, suckling,nibbling at the long, pointed nipple. His fingers were toying with and encircling the swollen spheres as if he were starved for the taste and texture of her. She made a low sound deep in her throat and her fingers threaded through his hair, clutching at him with mindless urgency. Her body was trembling, and she could scarcely stand up.
    He lifted his head, and his eyes were dark and oddly blind-looking. “You’re shivering,” he muttered. “Let me dry you.” He bent down to pick up the towel he had dropped to the ground. “Are you cold?”
    “No, far from it.”
    He carefully dried her throat and shoulders. The terry of the towel was gently abrasive against her skin. She tensed as the towel brushed against the exquisitely sensitive tips of her breasts. Sandor’s gaze lifted swiftly at the small betrayal, and he smiled.
    “Good,” he said softly. “Still, I think we’d better get you dry.” His hands cupped her breast from below and lifted it into high prominence. The towel moved over the mound slowly and thoroughly, until her breath was coming in little gasps and her gaze was clinging to his face as if she were drowning. “Aren’t they lovely?” he asked softly. “Like luscious ripe apples.” He lifted the other breast and began to towel it with the same thoroughness. “I feel like I’m shining an apple for the teacher.” He gently released her breast and began to dry her abdomen. “Only, I’m the teacher who’s going to enjoy them.” He dropped to his