He kissed the tip of her nose. "You've grown a little fond of me?"
"Yes." Her face felt hot again. "Just a little."
"Good." He grabbed the Indian blanket off the back of the couch and spread it on the floor in front of the fire. "I'm a little fond of you, too."
Her gaze drifted to the bulge in his flannel pants. "And yet, you show it in such a big way."
He grinned. "Come here. I want to kiss some part of you that doesn't taste like aloe vera." His blue eyes glimmered with heat. "I'm sure I can find just the spot."
She knew he could. She circled the coffee table and stood in front of him.
He touched her cheek. "Vanda, I love you."
Her heart cracked wide open. "Phil." She threw her arms around his neck. "What would I do without you?"
She was falling in love. She hadn't wanted to. But he was proving far too irresistible. And sweet. And sexy. "Will you make love to me? Now?"
"I thought you'd never ask." He bent his head down.
Vanda leaned into Phil as he kissed her. It was a languid, leisurely kiss. No doubt he intended to make love to her slowly and thoroughly. But the rhythmic stroking of his tongue against hers, the feel of his soft skin under her roaming hands, and the earthy, manly scent of him filling her senses—it made her bones melt, her heart race, and her desire spiral out of control.
She dug her fingers into his back and arched into him. She pressed her hips against his groin, rubbing his hard length. The aching emptiness between her legs grew hot and demanding.
To hell with leisurely lovemaking. They could do that the second time. Or the third.
She broke the kiss. "Let's get on with it." She fumbled with the knot on her terry-cloth belt. Everything was tinted red, so she knew her eyes were glowing.
"Sweetheart, I love the eagerness, but we need to talk first."
"You've got to be kidding." She yanked her robe off and tossed it on the floor.
He sucked in a breath. "Good God, you're beautiful."
"Thank you." She noticed his groin was even larger. "Enough chitchat." She grabbed hold of the waistband of his flannel pajama bottoms.
He clasped her wrists to stop her. "We really do need to talk."
"Why?" She yanked her hands from his grasp and glared at him. "Are you dumping me?"
"No! I love you. I want to spend my life with you."
Her heart swelled. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
"Then what's the problem? I can't get pregnant. I have no diseases. Your gorgeous body will not be harmed in any way." She grabbed her whip off the coffee table. "Unless, of course, you piss me off."
He laughed.
She huffed. "That was supposed to scare you into submission. The whip or personal love slave—which will it be?"
His blue eyes twinkled. "You don't have to resort to threats. I gladly volunteer."
She tossed the whip onto the table. "Then stop talking and kiss me. Make me scream. That's an order."
He shifted his weight. "I have to say something first."
Vanda groaned with frustration. She should have used the damned whip.
"Remember how you mentioned that the Nazis sent wolves after you?"
She froze. Her skin chilled with goose bumps, in spite of the blazing fire nearby. "I don't want to talk about it." She couldn't let Phil know. He'd never look at her the same way again. "The past is gone. There's no point in talking about it."
"But this—"
"No! You love me, don't you?" Tears sprang to her eyes once again. "Isn't love supposed to be enough?"
He searched her eyes. "I hope it is."
"It is." She wrapped her arms around him. "Please. Just take me as I am. Love me."
"I do love you. More than anything."
"Good." She tugged his pants down. "Then hurry."
"We have all night. Don't rush me."
But he was ready. So ready. "I want you." She reached out to touch him.
"Wait a minute." He lowered her to the floor, and she immediately locked her legs around his waist.
"Love slave." She lifted her hips to rub herself against him. "Take me now."
He pushed her hips down. "Not now."
"Yes, now. What about the term 'love slave' do you not understand?"
He chuckled. "I was the first one to declare my love. So I get the first turn."
"We're taking turns?"
"Yes. Me first."
She suppressed a smile. For a love slave, he was very domineering. But even their little power struggles turned her on. "You think you're in charge here?"
"I know I am." He fished her terry-cloth belt from her robe.
"Maybe I just let you think you're in charge." She frowned as he looped the belt around her wrists. "What are you doing?"
"I intend to explore you thoroughly. I can't do it if you keep rushing me." He pulled her arms above her head and tied the terry-cloth ends around a leg of the coffee table.
She tugged at the belt, then smiled. He'd tied her so loosely, she could free her hands whenever she wanted. "So who made you the boss?"
"I did. Feel free to register your complaints."
"I will. You—You're—" She sucked in a breath when his tongue tickled her neck. "You're overbearing."
"Mmm-hmm." With his tongue, he licked a path down to her breasts.
"You're a caveman." She shivered as his tongue circled her nipple. "Pushy and completely ob-ob—"
He sucked her nipple into his mouth.
"Obnoxious!"
He tugged on the hardened tip, and she moaned.
The ache between her legs grew more desperate. "Phil, please."
"You're not begging, are you?" He nibbled down her belly.
"Never."
"Good, 'cause it won't sway me. This is still my turn, and I'm not done with you." He slipped two fingers inside her.
She jolted.
"You're so wet." He waggled his fingers. "So beautiful."
She panted, gasping for air. Oh God, it felt so good.
Her legs tensed. Her hips lifted.
And his fingers withdrew. The building crescendo keeled over and fell flat.
"Ack!" She'd never felt so desperate. "What was that?"
"Trust me." He dove between her legs.
She squealed at the feel of his tongue. He tickled and teased, suckled and nipped.
The tension slammed back into her full force, stealing her breath away. Oh God, if this was how he took his turn, he could take the whole night. A whole fortnight. Her sight dimmed. Her ears hummed. All feelings, all thoughts, zeroed in on his wicked mouth.
She screamed as a massive convulsion racked her body. She writhed, oblivious to everything but the delicious shudders.
She gasped when he entered her suddenly. "Phil." She freed her hands from the belt. "Are you trying to kill me?"
He smiled and kissed her brow. "Hang in there, sweetheart. It's still my turn."
Several hours later, Phil lay flat on his back in a sated stupor.
"Phil," Vanda whispered in his ear.
He groaned. Was it his turn again? He'd lost count. After his last turn, he'd thought he was completely spent. He'd been half asleep when she'd started massaging him with a warm, wet washcloth. She was so gentle, he'd floated in a drowsy, semiaroused state.
But then she took him into her mouth. In a flash he was fully awake and fully erect. She tortured him till he begged for mercy, and then she straddled him. He didn't know what was more exciting: feeling her hot sheath sliding up and down his penis, or watching her make love to him. He'd adored watching the expressions on her face, the flush on her skin, and the bounce of her breasts. He'd relished hearing the soft moans and hoarse cries. He had never experienced anything so beautifully erotic.
She'd nearly killed him.
"Phil," she whispered again.
He moaned.