Her Secret Thrill. Donna Kauffman

always thought that what she had measured up all right. The leap of desire she caught in his eyes erased any other concerns she might have had. The fact that she willingly stood there boldly before him was as arousing to her as it apparently was to him.

      He removed his shirt, and she forgot all about her own nudity. Dear Lord, he was even more impressive than she’d imagined. His chest was broad and well muscled with a light swirl of hair across his pecs. His stomach was flat, his waist lean. She wanted to slide her hands in the waistband of his pants and shove them down. Her fingers curled inward against the need to follow through on that desire.

      “What do you want?” He looked from her closed fists to her eyes.

      He never missed anything. “I want to see the rest of you. You’re truly beautiful.”

      Surprisingly, a little heat bloomed in his cheeks. She laughed. “Surely I’m not the first to tell you that. You do own a mirror or two.”

      He smiled and gave a disarming little shrug. “It wasn’t what you said, it was how you said it.” He lifted one of those fists, opened it and kissed her palm. “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome,” she said, very unsteadily. He was simply too perfect. And he was hers. At least for the next couple of hours.

      The grin was back, along with a wink as he placed her hand on his waistband. “You strike me as a woman who has no problem going after what she wants. So go ahead. Take what you want.”

      She looked into his eyes, saw that he was serious and said, “I think I just might do that.”

      “Please.”

      She grinned and flicked open the silver button of his jeans, then tugged down his zipper. It was a bit challenging as it was currently being stretched rather beyond its intended usage. She paused halfway down. “I don’t want to— I’m afraid I’ll—” She stopped, then laughed lightly when his hands covered hers. “So much for being the bold, daring, take-what-she-wants type.”

      “I thought you were doing just fine.” His voice was hoarse and a little strained. Natalie looked up into his eyes and found such dark desire there, her smile faded away. He tugged on her hand, and she looked back down as he finished unzipping. He moved her hands to his hips, urging her to shove his pants down. She did. He kicked out of his shoes and socks, sending the pants after them.

      “Briefs,” she murmured. Black ones. Bikini style. She gulped as he took her hands again. She wasn’t ready, not yet. Well, she was, she was all but salivating. But not yet. Instead she moved his hands to her hips.

      It wasn’t until he began peeling the skin-like pants off her that she remembered she had nothing on beneath. He didn’t seem to mind. Neither did she, as it turned out.

      She went to step out of her heels, but he said, “Leave them on.”

      She darted a look to his eyes, but complied. As it was, he was about four inches taller. Without the heels, it would be about half a foot difference. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to minimize the difference, at least while they were standing.

      Then he said, “Walk over to that chair.” It wasn’t a command, more a request.

      Still, she was surprised by it. “Why?”

      He smiled. “Because I asked nicely?”

      Her thighs trembled a bit. Hadn’t she fantasized about him calling the shots? The very idea made her even wetter. If possible. She felt her inner muscles clench hard as she turned and walked away from him across the room to a high-backed, Victorian-looking chair.

      “Turn around.”

      She did. Very slowly. She didn’t smile, nor did she look cool. She simply did as he asked until she faced him again. Then she waited.

      “You are stunning.”

      Now she smiled. Felt her skin heat.

      “Don’t believe me? Turn to your right.”

      She did, and gasped. There was a full-length oval mirror tucked in the corner between the dresser and the chair.

      “Look at yourself, Natalie.”

      She couldn’t not. She looked…ripe. And those black, razor-sharp heels were downright sex on stilts. She’d always thought herself passably attractive, basic beauty but no frills. Only, right now…dear God.

      “Know what I see?” He moved behind her, so she could see him in the mirror. His body was wider than hers, taller than hers. He framed her entirely. His skin was darker, his look wilder, rougher. He made her look all the more refined, yet she didn’t feel fragile.

      He reached through her arms and gently cupped her breasts. She exhaled on a sharp gasp of pleasure, her knees giving slightly at the hot rush his touch set off.

      “I see nipples that stand out for my attention.” He slowly rubbed his thumbs over them, eliciting a moan from her she couldn’t contain. She whimpered when his hands slid away, but moaned again as his flat palms smoothed over her abdomen, then spread downward.

      She trembled hard as his fingertips brushed at the dark, downy curls at the apex of her thighs.

      “I want to see what you have waiting for me here, Natalie,” he said, his lips against the side of her neck.

      It was impossibly arousing. She wanted to move his fingers lower, push them inside her. She stepped back, needing to feel his body touching hers, needing more than just his palms on her stomach, his fingers brushing her.

      But he stepped back, then moved in front of her. He turned to face the mirror, almost entirely blocking her from view. “Turnabout is fair play, right?”

      The muscles between her legs were tied in a knot of pleasure so tight she wanted to scream with the need to untie it. But she looked at him in the mirror and knew she wanted this even more.

      She stood just to the side of him and pressed her hands to his hips, then slid his briefs all the way down his legs to the floor. She was almost kneeling. She placed her hands just above his knees, then slowly dragged them upward as she stood again. He gasped this time as she slid her fingers around his pelvis, almost brushing against his jutting erection…but not quite.

      “Do you know what I see?”

      “What?” The word sounded as if it had been ripped from him.

      She looked to his face, which stood in chiseled relief as he clenched his jaw, straining for control.

      “I see a man who can fill me like I’ve never been filled before.”

      He groaned but kept his hands at his side.

      She remembered that moment in the elevator, when she’d fantasized about him stroking himself. She wanted to ask him to do it, even just once. She wanted to see his strong hand circle himself. He was so thick and rigid, and there was something so primal— But she couldn’t.

      “What is it, Natalie?”

      Damn the man for being so focused. “Nothing. I—”

      “Tell me.” This time it was a command.

      “I—I wondered what it would look like if you—” She darted her gaze from his in the mirror, downward…then back up again. She couldn’t say it, so she showed him. She took his hand. Hers was shaking. And she moved it across his thigh…and upward. “I’ve never— I wanted to see what—”

      And then he wrapped his big, wide hand around himself and stroked all the way to the tip and back again. “Is that what you wanted to see?”

      She was panting. “Yes,” she gasped. “God.”

      “Would you like to?”

      She shook her head, but what she said was “Yes.”

      He took her hand and wrapped it around him. Again her knees buckled. He felt so intensely hard, and yet his skin was like