Diana Palmer Collected 1-6. Diana Palmer

the dress because she hadn’t wanted to suffer her hot, longline bra, which was the only strapless thing she had.

      She tensed, feeling his hands lift her, cup her, so tender that she accepted them without protest. His thumbs brushed over her, feeling her instant response.

      “You want me, too, don’t you?” he asked gently.

      The sensations his thumbs were producing made her mind go blank. She moved a little, moaning.

      His face pressed against her cheek. She could feel his breath at her ear.

      “Thank God we don’t have an audience,” he whispered huskily. “Stand very still, Dani.”

      His hands rose, moved to her shoulders. He eased the fabric down her arms with a slow, sinuous, achingly tender pressure. Her heart stopped beating as she felt the blood rush through her veins, felt the coolness of the salty night breeze touching her shoulders, her upper arms, and then her breasts as he slid the fabric to her waist.

      She moaned again, a catching of breath that acted on him like a narcotic. He felt his own legs go weak at the wholehearted response she was giving him. Giving to him, when he knew instinctively that she’d never have let any other man do this to her.

      “I wish that I could see your eyes,” he whispered. He lifted his head and looked down at her shadowed face. His hands slid against her face, her throat. “You’re so silky-soft,” he said under his breath. His hands slid down her arms and back up, his fingers barely touching, experiencing her skin. “Like warm cream. I can feel you trembling, and it brings the blood to my head, did you know? And that little sound you made when I pulled your dress away from your breasts…” His hands moved back to her shoulders. “Sweet, sweet virgin,” he whispered. “Make it easy for me. Lift your arms and let me hold you in my palms.”

      She stood on tiptoe as his hands began to move over her collarbone. Her hands reached up into his thick, straight blond hair as his thumbs moved down ahead of his palms and rubbed sensually at the hard tips of her breasts.

      She jerked helplessly at the exquisite contact.

      “I want to put my mouth on you,” he whispered as his lips brushed hers and his hands slowly, achingly, swallowed her, feeling the involuntary tremors that shook her. “All of this is a natural part of lovemaking, so don’t be frightened if you feel my teeth. All right?”

      “Peo-ple,” she moaned helplessly.

      “There was only an old couple down the beach,” he whispered. “They’ve gone inside now. Dani, Dani, of all the erotic, unbelievably sexy things I’ve ever done with a woman, this has to be the sweetest!”

      She was arching her body toward him, blind and deaf to everything except sensation. Tomorrow, she told her conscience, tomorrow I’ll worry about it.

      “You want my mouth, don’t you, darling?” he said, and with something like reverence he began to run his lips along her throat, down the side of her neck, over her collarbone, her shoulders. “I’m going to make a meal of you right here,” he breathed, and all at once she felt his teeth on her and she stiffened and cried out.

      “Eric,” she moaned, frightened, her hands catching in his hair.

      “It’s all right,” he murmured against her breast. “I wouldn’t hurt you for all the world. Relax, darling, just relax. Yes, like that, Dani. Lie down. Lie down, so that I can get to you….”

      He was easing her down onto the sand, and she let him, grateful to have some support under her, because the world was spinning around wildly. She clung to him, glorying in the feel of his lips, his teeth, his tongue, as he showed her how inexperienced she really was. By the time he got back to her mouth she was on fire for him.

      With fierce enthusiasm she pulled his body down over hers and kissed him back with a naive but satisfying passion. He laughed delightedly against her open mouth and eased his hips over hers. She was his already.

      “Eric,” she ventured shakily.

      “What do you want?” he asked, tasting her closed eyelids.

      Her hands went to the front of his shirt, and he lifted his head. “Do you want to feel me?”

      She flushed. “Yes.”

      “Unbutton it.”

      He was heavy, but she loved his weight. Overhead there were hundreds of stars. But all she knew was the unexpected completeness of his passion.

      She touched his bare, hair-rough skin with hands that tingled with excitement. She’d never touched a man’s body before, but she loved the feel of Dutch’s. His muscles were padded, warm and strong, and she could imagine that his strength was formidable.

      “Move your hands,” he said seconds later, and when she did, he dragged his bare chest roughly over hers, shocking her with the force of desire the unexpected action caused in her body.

      “Do you like it?” he asked as he moved sinuously above her.

      “I never dreamed…” she began huskily. She was trembling, and so was her voice. “Oh, I want you,” she confessed on a sob. “I want you, I want you!”

      “I want you, too, little one,” he whispered, kissing her softly. “But I can’t treat you like a one-night stand. I find I have too much conscience.”

      Tears were rolling down her cheeks. He kissed them all away, and his tongue brushed the tears from her eyelashes, and she realized suddenly that she hadn’t had her glasses on for quite a while.

      “My…glasses?” she falterd.

      “Above your head,” he said with a smile. He sat up slowly, catching her wrists to pull her up with him. She was in a patch of light that allowed him a delicious view of creamy, hard-tipped breasts in blatant arousal.

      “Oh, you’re something else, Miss St. Clair,” he said gently. He bent and touched his mouth to the very tip of one breast.

      Her breath wouldn’t come steadily. She looked down at his blond head. “I…we should…that is…”

      He lifted his head. “Suppose in the morning we get married?”

      “M-married?”

      He nodded. “Married.” He pulled up her bodice with obvious reluctance. Then he reached behind her, retrieved her glasses, and put them back on her.

      “But…”

      His knuckles brushed one perfect breast lazily, feeling it go hard again. “This isn’t going to get better,” he said. “By tomorrow we’ll be in such a fever that nothing is going to keep us away from each other. I haven’t experienced anything this powerful since I was about fifteen. And I’m damned sure you’re feeling it for the first time.”

      “Yes, I know that, but we’re strangers,” she protested, trying to keep her head.

      “We aren’t going to be strangers for much longer,” he said flatly. “My God, I want you,” he ground out. “If you won’t marry me, I’m getting the hell out of this hotel tonight, and on the next plane out of Veracruz. Because I can’t bear to be around you without taking you. And I won’t take you without marriage.”

      “But…”

      “Am I so unmarriageable?” he burst out. “My God, I’ve had women propose to me! I’m not ugly, I’m well to do, I like dogs and cats, and I pay my bills on time. I’m in fairly decent health, I have friends…why in hell won’t you marry me?”

      “But it’s only desire,” she began.

      “Stop trying to be logical,” he said gruffly. “I’m not capable of logic when I’m aching like this. I want you. And you want me. For God’s sake, put me out of my misery!”

      “Would…would we have a divorce if…after we…if you…” she began.

      “I’m