gaze jumped to hers. She could tell he was resisting her command, wanting to keep all the authority for himself. With the backs of her fingers she traced the outside curves of her bare breasts.
"Kitty..."
She did it again.
He stepped forward, reaching out for her. "Let's go somewhere."
Kitty stayed where she was. The power was here, in The Burning Rose, in the spirits of the women who had worked this room. Kitty thought she might understand them now, as much as someone from a century and a half later could, the shame she usually felt when thinking of them diminishing. Here in Hot Water it might have been the Wild West, but in other parts of the world it had been Victorian times. For women of that era, choices had been limited, and the dominion - and opinions - of men had been the norm.
So between these walls perhaps they had found an independence of sorts. Within this room, Kitty recognized that her ancestors might have found pleasure in a man's pleasure. More, they had established a not-so-subtle aura of female dominance that had protected them against degradation. Here, in The Burning Rose, a woman could lie with a man without bringing her heart into it. And oh, that was what she wanted to do with Dylan.
"Kitty." Dylan stretched his hand closer. "Let's go."
She ignored him and reached for one of his belt loops instead. Rising to her knees, she pulled him closer.
"What are you doing?" His voice grated.
"You wanted to see me," she said. "Now I want to see you." The top snap of his jeans popped open.
He shuddered. "Shit, Kitty."
The zipper rasped loudly.
He shuddered again.
She'd never felt so powerful in her entire life. So in control.
Pushing aside the edges of the jeans, she widened the vee made by the zipper. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as she used her hand to trace him through the silk of black boxers. The hot hardness jumped against her palm.
"I must be dreaming," he muttered.
Thrilled by her boldness, she slid both hands inside the loosened denim to cup the cheeks of his hard, round rear end. Her movement parted the slit at the front of the boxers, exposing a tempting glimpse of smooth flesh. Squeezing the taut muscles in her hands, she leaned forward and gave a delicate lick to the bared skin.
He groaned, his hands spearing into her hair. She licked again, taking her time with an upstroke and a downstroke, intrigued and excited by the steeliness covered with such sleek, hot skin.
Her skin was hot too, and there was another rush of wet heat between her thighs. She moved closer to him, and her naked, tingling nipples brushed against the denim of his jeans. She closed her eyes, rubbing her breasts against the fabric again.
"Kitty." His voice sounded strained. "Let's ... let me..."
"No." She stared up at his face and thought the stark neediness there was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. He'd been the man of her dreams, the golden idol on a pedestal nearly all her life, but now that she was truly at his feet, it was as if they were for once on equal footing.
With a slow, deliberate movement, she pushed down his jeans. Then she looked up to catch his gaze once more, and holding it, eased his boxers away.
His breath hissed. Kitty licked her lips, then broke their eye contact to focus on what she'd revealed.
It was huge and potent-looking and it startled her for a moment to think she'd managed to take it inside her body. It jutted toward her as if wanting to intimidate her, to dominate her, but Kitty knew it was only posturing ... like barbed wire wrapped around a heart.
It was vulnerable. He was vulnerable.
To her.
Kitty leaned forward and took him in her mouth.
He groaned and it surged against her tongue. It seemed to grow larger, but she wouldn't let him get away. She painted it with pleasure, tasting his skin, grasping the backs of his hard thighs and feeling the shudders that racked his body. His hand cupped the back of her head and she felt his fingers trembling too.
In this game of desire, she was winning.
Or so she thought.
The world suddenly spun. He pushed her down onto her back, shoved up her skirts, moved his hand between her legs, and tugged aside her panties. "Dylan." She panted, resenting the sudden change in positions.
"Be quiet." He used his other hand to hold her shoulders down