Quiet Walks the Tiger - By Heather Graham Page 0,29
denied him...had she wanted to...been able to...
His hands were as sure as his lips. With one he held the small of her back, curving her to him in an arch that made her even more aware of his burning heat and his need for her, a need she felt that she melted to like soft wax. The excitement and spark of fire she experienced near him suddenly burst into flame like an inferno. His other hand was firmly caressing her face, sliding down the silken column of her neck, fondling her collarbone, her shoulder, seducing with each firm movement. It crept between them with no thought of obstruction from her to crush against her breast, seeking as it enticed, a work-roughened thumb grazing a nipple with expert enticement until it hardened to a full peak, straining against the fabric of her shirt to receive the intoxicating touch. A moan sounded in Sloan’s throat, a whimper of desire. She was lost in his onslaught, swept away in a great wash of desire that began as a burning need in the root of femininity and spread a weakness rushing through her like a tidal wave. She couldn’t think, only need and crave...from somewhere a voice inside her reminded her that she couldn’t give, but it made no sense...she wanted desperately to give...and give...and keep on giving until she could quench the terrible storm of desire...
Her fingers, limp at first, found life. They curled over his broad shoulders, marveling at the play of muscle, and moved on to the coarse edges of dark hair at his nape, pulling her ever closer as her mind whirled in sensation. She wasn’t sure that she still touched earth...
She never did think of her conniving that night. It was a sudden splurge of fear, spurred as his fingers slipped beneath her shirt to sear her flesh with new pleasure that finally jolted her mind. What if she wasn’t all that he wanted? What if she froze and just couldn’t...? It had been so very long...
All the terrors that flitted through her mind were unnecessary. Wesley had remembered where they were and under what circumstances, even if she hadn’t. He drew away with a shake, then pulled her close to his chest again with tenderness. Her head rested against his thundering heart as he spoke.
“There’s so much I want to say to you, Sloan. But I think your other guests are going to start speculating as to what we’re up to. I can’t wait long, though. Saturday night, when your performance and the hectic pace that goes with it is over, we’re going to leave George and Cassie early and find some place to be entirely alone. No crowded dance floor or restaurant, and no car. I want you alone. Agreed?”
Sloan nodded vigorously against his chest, not trusting herself to speak. Please God, she prayed hastily, let it be a proposal. I don’t think I can handle this much longer. And if I’m his wife, I know I’ll be okay, I’ll have to be okay, because I’ll know he wants me forever...
Everyone left shortly after they returned to the patio, Wesley brushing a quick kiss against her forehead as he helped George carry out his sleeping sons.
Sloan slept soundly. She had weighed all Wesley’s words and actions and convinced herself that he was sincere. Saturday night was sure to bring the proposal she so desperately needed.
And she had completely forgotten the other insight she had momentarily seen of the man when his temper had flared.
A man who gave no second chances and slashed offenders with a swift but merciless blow.
CHAPTER FIVE
FOR SOME INEXPLICABLE REASON the traffic in town went mad on Thursday morning. Running late to begin with, Sloan found driving the short distance to work a tedious chore. Gritting her teeth but resigned, she wove her way through vehicles that appeared ridiculously confused.
Reaching the parking lot of the college, Sloan quickly collected her things and raced into the Fine Arts building. She and Jim had a rehearsal scheduled before their first classes, and they needed every second of time. The performance was only two days away. Depositing her street clothing and papers in her office, she moved straight into Fine Arts 202, where Jim was already engaging in warm-up exercises.
“Good morning,” she called quickly, making her way to the bar where she began her own series of stretches starting with limbering pliés.
“Good morning, Mrs. Tallett,” Jim returned her call, his voice laced with a teasing amusement. “Or