the sliding glass door, so that she was trapped between its coldness and his warmth, her breasts wildly sensitive against his hard chest.
“Shh,” he whispered at her temple. “Don’t panic. I won’t hurt you.” He smiled softly. The drinks had done the trick; he was finally feeling relaxed and slightly muddled, which was a relief from all the heavy thinking he’d had to do lately. He couldn’t have Bess, he reasoned now, but Elissa was fair game, wasn’t she? Shy and virginal—how tempting to a man. What would it hurt to give her a little experience? He cared about her, in a way. And who better to deal with her repressions? She’d almost admitted earlier that she’d let him.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked in a high-pitched tone. Her fingers started to push him away, but when her hands encountered warm, hair-roughened skin, they stopped struggling and flattened against him. She realized she didn’t feel like resisting, anyway. The alcohol had done something to her willpower. She felt more like relaxing against King than fighting him; his proximity was having a throbbing effect on her body.
“Because I need something to occupy me, to keep me out of trouble. So you’re going to be my hobby,” he said.
“I don’t want to be your hobby,” she protested weakly. Her legs felt trembly.
“I was yours at the beginning,” he reminded her. “You’ve no one to blame but yourself.”
“That was different. You were repressed,” she said defensively. He was too close. She was inhaling the tangy, clean scent of him, and it was intoxicating her more than the vodka had. His bared chest was hard under her fingers, and between seeing him and smelling him and feeling him, she was adrift on sensation, her heart pounding. All that devastating masculinity, so close.
“I was repressed?” he asked with an amused smile.
“You were all alone,” she said quietly, avoiding his eyes. “I felt sorry for you. I was alone, too. I... Well, I thought it would be nice to have a friend.”
“You had Warchief,” he pointed out, grinning. “Speaking of Warchief...” He glanced around. The big parrot was on his perch ring, one foot drawn up, his eyes closed. “Unusual, his going to sleep without being covered. Is that antibiotic working, do you think?”
“He isn’t sneezing or rasping,” she said, grateful for the change of subject. “He’s better. He’s just sleepy. He always goes to sleep at dusk, when you’re not around.” She grinned. “He’s in love with you.”
“I think he’s a she,” he laughed. Then he turned his attention back to her, looking down at the bodice of her jumpsuit with narrowing eyes. He moved experimentally, rubbing his chest against her, and she gasped at the sudden, sharp pleasure the friction produced.
She flushed to the roots of her long dark hair. “King!”
“Shocking, isn’t it?” he asked, lifting his narrow gaze to hers.
Her eyes searched his, curiosity momentarily displacing her nervousness at this new intimacy.
His gaze held hers while the hands at her waist began to move her in a sensuous circle against his hard, warm chest.
The only sounds she heard were the hoarseness of the ocean against the sand and the wildness of her own breathing. She couldn’t bear to look at King as sensation overwhelmed her, and she lowered her forehead to his shoulder. He was breathing heavily, too, his heartbeat audible.
His thumbs edged under her arms, brushing at the sides of her breasts, feeling her softness, feeling her begin to tremble with the newness of physical pleasure.
“You aren’t wearing a bra, are you?” he whispered, his voice deep and soft at her ear. “That silky thing is so thin that it’s like holding you naked in my arms.”
The power of the erotic suggestion was such that Elissa bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and her legs threatened to buckle underneath her. She shuddered.
“Elissa,” he breathed roughly.
She could smell the Scotch on his breath, but even that was oddly exciting. His arms suddenly lifted her into an embrace tight enough that she could feel his ribs digging into her. She clung to him, her face buried in his throat, breathing in the exquisitely male scent of him, her head spinning, her body aching for something it had never known, her breasts crushed against hard muscle. He bit her ear, then ran his tongue around its soft curves, an intimate gesture that she’d never realized could have such a profound effect.