Cursed (Decorah Security #21) - Rebecca York Page 0,54

made her clasp her hands over his shoulders.

She ached to wipe away his pain. As Linette had done in the dream, she pressed her lips to his.

She had wanted to comfort him, to reassure him. But the touch of her mouth on his was like setting a match to dry straw. Heat flared inside her, heat she was helpless to control.

He made a needy sound as he angled his head so he could feast on her mouth—the way the Andre in the dream had feasted on Linette.

Linette had been a virgin. Morgan knew what she was doing as she lay back on the bed, taking Andre with her, rolling to her side so she was lying half on top of him.

As her hands moved over him, he did the same, stroking, caressing, arousing.

Panting, she broke the kiss—just for a moment. “You need to take off your clothes.”

“The dream turned you on . . .”

She pressed her fingers to his lips. “No. That’s wrong. The dream made me so sad. They never got to make love. But we can.”

“That’s not a good reason,” he grated.

“It wouldn’t be if it were the only reason.” She was tired of arguing with him. It had been a long time since she had wanted to be with a man like this. But if she knew anything in her heart, it was that she wanted to make love with Andre Gascon, urgently.

“This isn’t a dream. It’s reality,” she murmured as her hand slid down his body, finding the hard shaft of his erection behind the fly of his jeans. When she pressed her hand over him, she felt his body jerk.

“Don’t.”

She laughed. “If you say you don’t want me, you’re going to have a hard time getting me to believe it.” As she said the word “hard,” she swiveled her hand, making him gasp.

“Oh Lord, Morgan. I want you so much. I wanted you before you ever arrived here.”

“How?”

“As soon as I found you at Decorah—I knew.”

She wasn’t exactly following his logic, but it didn’t matter. Her main goal was to get him to stop talking. And she knew she had won the battle when his hands went to the front of her robe and began to undo the buttons. She reached to help him, and their fingers tangled.

“Let me do it,” he growled. “I want the pleasure of undressing you.”

“Yes.” She lay back, lowering her arms to her sides, looking up at him in the dim light coming through the window. It was early in the morning, she noted with some corner of her mind. The sun would come up soon.

But the light from the bathroom let her see the way his eyes burned with passion. And that thrilled her.

He finished opening the buttons of her robe, then carefully spread the front open.

She felt shy as his gaze drank her in. Shy as Linette would have felt.

“You are so . . . so beautiful,” he breathed. His hand moved to touch her, stroking tenderly across her collarbone, then moving slowly, slowly downward, grazing the tops of her breasts before tracing their fullness.

He skirted her nipples, and she ached to feel the pressure of his thumbs and fingers squeezing there. When his hand slid lower to run over her ribs, she made a small sound of protest.

But he kept going, tracing a circle around her navel before sliding his fingers into the triangle of hair at the top of her legs.

Again, she wanted him to go farther, to dip his fingers into the hot, swollen folds of her sex. But he rolled away from her and stood up.

“Come back,” she pleaded, holding out her arms to him.

“In a minute.” He walked to the door, closed it and snapped the lock, and she realized she had forgotten all about making sure they had privacy. Then he strode back to the bed, pulling his shirt over his head before opening his belt buckle. When he reached the side of the bed, he unzipped the jeans, slicking them down his legs along with his underwear.

He stood over her, and as he had on her a few minutes earlier, she feasted her eyes on him—enjoying his wonderful, hard-muscled body, his broad chest covered with dark hair, his narrow waist and flat belly. Her gaze inevitably dropped lower, focusing on the erection that stood out from his body, proud and thick.

“You are so sexy looking,” she whispered.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

When she realized she was still wearing the robe, she