Illegal Possession by Kay Hooper Read Free Book Online

at her temple and wondered at the fluttering in her belly.
    You’ve danced with princes, she reminded herself in confusion. With princes and sheikhs, presidents and movie stars. With men who moved the world through their actions.
    Why did this man, and only this man, shake her?
    He held her as closely as possible without using force, aware of her resistance. Unhurriedly he lifted both her hands to his neck, dropping his own to her waist and easily spanning its tiny girth. Inch by inch, with only a gentle pressure, he drew her even closer.
    The movement was so insidious, so perfectly timed with the slow steps of their dance, that Troy became aware of the lessening distance between them only when she felt her breasts brush his dinner jacket. Her breath caught in her throat with a gasp, the silky slide of her dress over the bare flesh it covered intensified by the rough material of his jacket. She wanted to draw away, but there was a weakness in her legs and in her soul, and she experienced a sudden need for a strength not her own.
    She could feel his chin move against her temple, feel his chest rise and fall in a quickening rhythm. Without conscious volition her hands curled at the nape of his neck, her fingers losing themselves in his thick black hair. Breathless, suspended, she was dimly aware of their steps slowing even more until they were barely moving—outwardly.
    Inwardly Troy felt violent surges, a red-hot movement of feelings and impulses she’d never experienced before. They tore through her body with the speed and devastation of a tornado, leaving weakness and bubbling desire in their aftermath. She wanted to break free of his embrace, but didn’t have the strength; wanted to speak, but didn’t have the breath.
    God, oh, God, what was he doing to her?
    She felt his hands slide up her back, scorching the flesh left bare by the low-cut gown, then drop suddenly to mold her hips and pull her hard against his lower body with abrupt impatience. What little breath she could command left her lips in a rush as the hard throbbing of his desire ignited her senses. Troy hid her face in his shoulder in an instinctive attempt to prevent him from seeing the helpless reaction.
    “Troy…” His voice was deep, choked off somewhere in his throat, and his movements against her had become a primitive and sensuous dance needing no music.
    She closed her eyes, breathing rapidly through parted lips, her fingers tangling fiercely in his hair. The kiss on the steps yesterday, she realized vaguely, had barely hinted that he could make her feel like this. He had stolen her breath then, but she sensed that he was stealing far, far more now. Her willpower. Her strength. Her soul. Herself….
    The familiar and comforting library vanished; time ground to a halt. The bubble of need within her grew, expanded, until it filled her entire body. It throbbed in rhythm with his desire, demanding an end to a sweet and mindless torture. She felt his hands searching, exploring, creating a sensual friction with the silky material of her gown, and the bubble of desire filled with a hot rush of hunger.
    “God,” he whispered harshly, unevenly, “you’re not wearing a damn thing under this dress, are you?”
    Troy heard the words, but the sensations in her body gripped and burned and refused to allow speech. She felt his lips moving down her cheek, along her jaw; felt the demanding heat of them stringing burning kisses down her throat. She lifted her head from his shoulder only to throw it back, the unconscious, provocative gesture allowing more scope for his explorations.
    Mindless, eyes tightly closed, she stroked his silky hair helplessly and aided him in locking her body to his. Never in her life had she experienced such a burning hunger. She throbbed from head to toe, and she couldn’t be close enough to him to satisfy the need to touch him.
    There was no rational voice in her mind, no whisper of logical warnings. There was only this building,