One Night with His Wife by Lynne Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

half in light, half in shadow. Taut cheekbones, eyes the colour of midnight, straight, arrogant nose, hard, masculine jawline.
    She watched Luc cast off his beautifully cut jacket, pull loose his tie and peel off his crisp cotton shirt. He discarded the items with the same controlled cool with which he did everything. Yet she quivered, insidious heat rising from deep within at the sight of his muscular brown chest, the sprinkling of curling black hair hazing his pectorals, the satin-sleek smoothness of the skin over his flat, taut stomach. The strength of her own craving shook her.
    ‘I just love your body,’ she whispered, knotting her fingers together, nerves and anticipation headily mingling to keep her ferociously tense.
    Luc flashed her a slightly uneasy glance. ‘That’s my line.’
    Star frowned in dismay, taking him literally. ‘We don’t have to have lines, do we?’
    ‘We don’t need to talk, do we?’ Evidently even more threatened by that idea, Luc strode forward at speed and raised her upright. The edges of her loosened top fell apart. His hands tightened hard on hers. The silence sizzled. He gazed down fixedly at her bare pouting breasts crested by swollen pink peaks that stirred with her every quickened breath. A tide of colour washed her face as she resisted her own self-consciousness with all her might.
    ‘Sensational…’ Suddenly, Luc was dragging the sleeves of her top down her arms, freeing her of the garment and backing her down on the bed with a lack of cool that she found intensely gratifying.
    ‘Say it in French,’ she urged breathlessly. ‘Say everything in French.’
    Momentarily, Luc stilled. ‘Try to smother the urge to tell me what to do.’
    Star gave him a hurt look of confusion.
    He lifted her up against the pillows so that she was level with him. Excitement glanced through her, sharp as a knife, but the pained light in her eyes lingered. He closed a soothing hand over her taut fingers, forcing her to release her death-grip on the corner of the duvet. ‘Just keep quiet,’ he practically begged. ‘Don’t talk…when you talk, you drive me crazy.’
    Very slowly, Star nodded.
    Eyes burning gold swept over her. He snatched in a ragged breath. ‘You just always say the wrong thing.’
    Tears stung her eyes behind her lowered eyelids.
    Luc gazed down at her in frantic frustration. She was lying there like a corpse now, still as death in human sacrifice mode. He curved not quite steady hands to her delicate cheekbones. ‘
I
always say the wrong thing,’ he contradicted in desperation.
    Star opened her wonderful eyes and nodded forgivingly.
    Without hesitation, he captured her lips again with potent driving passion. She stopped thinking, as if he had punched a switch. He slid lithely down the bed and closed his mouth urgently over one thrusting tender pink nipple. She gasped and jerked, every muscle straining in reaction, and instantly she was on fire again. The tormenting sensitivity of her own flesh made her moan helplessly and melted her quivering body to hot liquid honey.
    ‘I want to taste you…’ Luc muttered raggedly, wrenching her out of her skirt, his mouth travelling down over her slim, twisting length with a hot, devastating sensuality that overwhelmed her.
    There was no escape from the raw force of her own need. Her heart racing, she flung back her head as he found thehot moist centre of her. A low, keening cry of reaction erupted from her. She was out of her mind with excitement, lost in the domination of an expert sensualist and increasingly frantic as the nagging, terrible ache for fulfilment built ever higher. Her fingernails scored his shoulders in a wild passion of impatience.
    ‘Luc!’ she sobbed in despair.
    He came over her then, and slid between her trembling thighs. She couldn’t get him there quick enough. The fire inside her was all-consuming. He sank into her on one powerful thrust, and the pleasure was so tormentingly intense she almost passed out