Cursed (Decorah Security #21) - Rebecca York Page 0,17
as he had done before, then slowly slid them inward, teasing the sides of her breasts, before finally cupping them in his hands through the fabric of her bodice and chemise.
She should stop him. He shouldn’t touch her like that. But she was helpless to say the word “no.”
Instead, she turned more fully toward him, a small sound rising in her throat as he caressed her there. Then he did something new, his fingers brushing over her hardened nipples, making heat leap inside her. Helplessly, she felt a pleading sound rise in her throat.
“Andre. Oh Lord, Andre.”
“You like that?”
“Oh, yes. I didn’t know anything could feel that good.”
“There’s more, love.” He gathered her close, then lay back on the coverlet, taking her with him, holding her in his arms, pulling her body against his, her skirts tangling around their legs as he rocked with her.
Flames lapped at her. The flames of hell, she thought. But she didn’t care. There was only this moment, this man, and the desperation they shared.
He rolled to his back, pulling her on top of him, stroking his hands down her length so that every aching inch of her body was pressed to his.
They were both shaking with strong emotions. All she could think was that the clothing they wore was in the way. And she knew at that moment she would have let him do anything he wanted with her.
“Andre, I need . . .” she gasped, not even sure how to finish the sentence.
“I know, love. I know.” He adjusted her body, so that her aching center was pressed to the hard rod of flesh at the front of his body. It felt so good there. No—wonderful.
“Oh!” Unable to stop herself, she moved against him, her desperation rising as his hands pressed her to him, then played with her breasts through the fabric covering them.
She heard herself moan. She knew she had turned into a total wanton as her movements became frantic, as she strove for something she couldn’t name. And then a burst of pleasure grabbed her, making her call out with the wonder of it.
She was left limp and panting, her head pressed to his shoulder as he stroked her back and tangled his fingers in her hair.
“What did you do to me?”
“Gave you . . .”
Before he could finish his answer, a sound intruded into the dream. A woman’s voice, chanting—pulling Morgan away from Andre as surely as if strong fingers were tangled in her hair, yanking painfully. Yanking her back to reality.
Chapter Four
Morgan woke, breathing hard and disoriented. Her body was flush with the aftermath of sexual release—a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
In the dark she felt her face heat as wisps of the erotic dream drifted through her mind.
Where was she? In a bed. She had been sleeping. Now she was awake.
Something had snapped her out of the dream. A sound.
It filtered into her consciousness—making the hairs on the backs of her arms stand up and tingle. It was a woman’s voice—chanting to the sound of a drum.
Out in the humid night.
Morgan strained her ears, trying to figure out the words. But she couldn’t make any sense of them, and finally she came to the conclusion that they were in some language that she didn’t understand. An ancient language that sounded rough and primitive and evil.
She shivered. Evil. Yes, the chant sounded like pure evil. Meant to do harm.
To her? Or to Andre Gascon?
Suddenly, Morgan was very glad that she was safe inside the house—not out in the midnight garden.
Slipping from the bed, she glided to the window, staying to the side as she peeked out. Moonlight silvered the garden. From the safety of her bedroom, she searched the grounds of Belle Vista.
She was in rural Louisiana, she reminded herself. At the Gascon family home. She had come here because Andre Gascon had asked for a private investigator to figure out who was killing people in the swamp near his home. Killing people and making it look like a big cat had done it. And somehow that was supposed to be his fault. She hadn’t quite figured out how that fit into the scenario.
But maybe he was doing something illegal with animals. Maybe he had a zoo out there in the bayou, and he was letting the residents roam around at night. She’d come up with that theory last week, and it made as much sense as anything else.