"Laura Resnick - Fever Dream" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Laura)

He resisted. Not enough to force her to stay in his arms; just enough to give her time to realize that she
didn't really want to pull away after all. He shifted the hand that held hers and laced his fingers with hers.
She complied willingly and let him draw her even closer, so that their hips pressed together as he slid one
leg between her thighs.

He lowered his head. She felt his cheek against hers, hard and slightly rough with his five o'clock shadow.
She felt him nuzzle her hair, inhaling its fragrance, and she quivered against him, closing her eyes.

тАЬRelax,тАЭ he murmured, sensing her tension. тАЬDon't you ever let your spine sag?тАЭ

тАЬNever.тАЭ

тАЬNever say never,тАЭ he whispered. His hand slid up her back to gently knead the tight muscles between
her shoulder blades.

She sighed and slid her arm around his neck, running her fingers through the soft hair at his nape again
and again. He was a feast of different textures: warm, smooth skin; slightly abrasive stubble; hard, bulging
muscle beneath damp cotton; silky soft hair; soothing, stimulating hands.

His strong, clever fingers unlocked all the secrets she carried between her shoulders. All the anger she
never showed, all the fears she kept hidden, all the weariness she never gave into; he freed it all and let it
flow between them. She sighed and pillowed her head on his shoulder, wondering at his skill, his
understanding. It was as if this perfect stranger knew things about her that no one in her life had even
guessed.

Wanting to hold him with both arms, wanting both his hands to be free to touch her, she pulled her other
hand out of his grasp and slid it around his shoulder. He responded by embracing her fully and letting his
hands roam freely over her shoulders, back, and waist.

The intensity of his touch increased, his warm hands releasing other, more deeply buried instincts. She
clung to him, feeling the depth of her loneliness, wondering how she could bear it if he stopped touching
her. Her belly throbbed with desire, with a pulsing, insistent need to be even closer to him.
The song ended. The chirpy voice of the d.j. intruded on this drowsy, magical feeling. Madeleine raised
her head. The man in her arms stilled, then caressed her cheek lightly before tilting her chin so that their
eyes met.

тАЬAsk me up to your room,тАЭ he whispered, his eyes glowing with lush, emerald highlights, his voice thick
with promise.

тАЬI can't.тАЭ

His expression didn't change. тАЬI won't hurt you.тАЭ

тАЬI ... believe you.тАЭ Crazily enough, she did. No man who touched her like this, who looked so tender,
who teased so sweetly would be cruel or selfish.

тАЬI've got condoms.тАЭ Seeing her flush, he pointed out, тАЬWell, it makes a difference. I thought that might be
why youтАФтАЭ

тАЬNo. I mean, I haven't got a room.тАЭ