His Seductive Proposal: A Touch of Persuasion / Terms of Engagement / An Outrageous Proposal. Maureen Child

and then she felt him lean down as he whispered in her ear. “You’re at my mercy now. Everything I ask of you, you’ll do, and in exchange, I’ll make you burn.”

      “Kieran…” The word ended on a cry as he ran his tongue around the shell of her ear and winnowed his fingers through her hair. With a slow, steady touch, he massaged her scalp. His fingertips skated to her nape, the back of her ear. Her whole body craved his attention, but he was set on a course that was drugging, slow and steady.

      Gradually, almost imperceptibly, he moved south, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles of her neck and shoulders. Her spine caught his focus. He ran his tongue the length of it and then rubbed gently on either side.

      At her ass, he made a sound, a cross between a groan and a curse. Quivering, helpless, she felt him plump the cheeks, trace the cleft, reach beneath her and brush the part of her that ached the most.

      When she spread her legs, begging wordlessly, he chuckled and abandoned the ground he had barely conquered. “Patience, Olivia.”

      She felt his hands beneath her hips, lifting her, turning her. Now she could see him, and the sight took her breath and shredded it. His broad chest was tanned and rippled with muscle. An arrow of fine, dark hair traced the midline, all the way down to where his shaft reared proudly against his abdomen.

      His erection was thick and long, and a drop of moisture glistened on the tip. “Please,” she begged without pride. “Please don’t make us wait.”

      “Waiting is half the fun. I want you crazed when I finally take you, so lost to reason that nothing exists but you and me and this bed.”

      It was as if he were a hypnotist. Her body responded to his words atavistically, ceding control without a qualm. But by the look on his face, his control was more fragile than he was willing to admit. His jaw was tight. The dark flush of color staining his cheeks made him look wild and uncivilized… a man close to the edge.

      He bent over her, no part of his body touching hers except his lips. “I love your mouth,” he said, tracing the soft flesh with his tongue and sliding through to taste her.

      She tried to link her bound wrists over his head to trap him close, but he moved away, using one big hand to pin hers to the mattress. “Naughty, naughty,” he teased.

      Suddenly very serious, he kept his gaze locked on hers as he slid his free hand down her stomach and between her thighs. Two large fingers entered her, testing her readiness. Her hips came off the bed, her heartbeat racing as sweat beaded her forehead.

      He never looked away and neither could she. All the secrets of a man’s desires were there in his eyes if she could only translate them. Was this all he wanted from her? Dare she hope he needed more?

      Stroking lazily, he turned interrogator. “Tell me about the men in your life, Olivia. Who has benefitted from what I taught you back in England?”

      His finger brushed her clitoris and she gasped. “None of your damned business, Wolff man. I haven’t quizzed you about your women in every port.”

      Back and forth. Back and forth. That brazen fingertip brought her closer and closer to the edge. “There haven’t been that many,” he said slowly, looking at his hand’s mischief and not her face. “I work long hours when I’m overseas. Not much time for play.”

      “But a man like you can’t go without sex for long. Back in university you wanted it twice a day, three times if we were lucky.”

      “That’s because I was obsessed with you.”

      The blunt confession gave wings to her heart. But she reined in her excitement. The pertinent word in that sentence was in the past tense. Was. Kieran had been a horny young adult male. And Olivia had fallen into his bed like the proverbial ripe peach.

      As a fully mature man, he was no less sexually primed, but he’d had any number of women since he left England so suddenly. And even now, being with Olivia was probably more about expedience and availability than any deep-seated obsession.

      Kieran’s early experiences in life had clearly stunted his ability to express deep emotion. He was a passionate man, but she doubted whether he was capable of true romantic love. That would mean putting a female first in his life, and she had seen no sign of such willingness in his behavior.

      He clearly wanted her, but for Olivia, that would never be enough.

      His hand moved, and she gave up analyzing the situation. Today was about physical pleasure. Her heart was safely locked away.

      Kieran released her wrists. Sliding far down in the bed, he used his hands to widen the vee of her legs. When she felt his hot breath on her thighs, she tensed in panic. They had never explored this kind of intimacy when she was younger. “No, wait…” she blurted out. “I don’t like this.”

      “How do you know?” he asked, a lazy smile tilting the corners of his mouth.

      “Seriously, Kieran.” She pushed at his shoulder. “I mean it. Stop.”

      He reared up, all humor erased from his face. “I’ll stop. If you insist. But it would give me great pleasure to do this with you.”

      She nibbled her lower lip, caught between unease and cautious interest. “What if I can’t come, because I’m too self-conscious?” Blurting out what she was thinking wasn’t something she planned, but he might as well know the truth.

      “Relax, Olivia. It’s not an exam you have to study for. I want to make you happy. That’s all. You don’t have to do a thing.”

      Her hand fell to the sheet. “Well, I…”

      Anticipating her consent, he resumed his earlier position. She felt the softness of his hair on her leg, jerked briefly as his hot breath feathered over her belly. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

      She closed her eyes, arching her back at the first gentle pass of his tongue. When she moaned, helpless in the grip of shivering sensation that spread in warm ripples throughout her lower body, he repeated the motion. The sensation was indescribable. Like a warm, electric shock that built and built until she called out his name in a frenzy of need. “Kieran. Oh, God. Kieran.”

      His muffled response was neither decipherable nor important. She was lost, caught up in a whirlwind that slammed into her, dragged her over the edge of a perfect climax and dropped her helpless into his embrace.

      When she recovered, he had moved up beside her and was leaning on an elbow watching her with a totally masculine satisfaction. “Still don’t like it?” he asked drolly. One eyebrow lifted in a questioning stance.

      She tried to corral her ragged breathing. “Don’t brag.”

      He placed his hand, palm opened flat, on her belly. “Watching you come like that ranks as the highlight of my year.”

      “The year’s only halfway done,” she quipped, trying not to let him see how completely undone she was. “Too early to tell.” She put her hand on top of his and laced their fingers together.

      “Don’t be so modest. I’m sure they heard you in Brooklyn.”

      “Kieran!” Mortification washed over her and she rolled to her side, bending her knee and resting her leg across his hairy thighs. They were hard and corded with muscle. His deep tan extended everywhere except for a narrow band of white at his hips and the tops of his thighs.

      She imagined him, laboring out beneath a blazing tropical sun, shirtless, wearing only cargo shorts and boots. Did he ever get lonely always living among strangers? The question hovered on her lips, but she knew it was self-serving. Obviously his lifestyle suited him. Otherwise, he would have come home long ago.

      He lifted her without warning and settled her astride his hips. His hunger unappeased, he flexed and grew at least another centimeter beneath her fascinated gaze. She put both hands on him, measuring the length and breadth.

      Hard steel pulsed beneath his velvet skin. Even