She felt his erection through his pants. It throbbed against her belly with a provocative rhythm. They were fused. Lips to lips. Chest to chest. Thigh to thigh. And yet it wasn’t nearly close enough. Too much clothing in the way.
Twining her fingers into the warm, thick, whiskey-colored hair at the nape of his neck, she arched her body against his. She opened her mouth wider, encouraging that roving tongue to pepper her with wet, sexual thrusts.
He mimicked her moves, one hand cupping the back of her neck. The fingers of his other hand stroked her jaw, her throat and skimmed lower until he was caressing her breasts through the velvety bodice of her dress. He kneaded the pliant flesh, searing her with triple-digit heat. Oh, she couldn’t wait until his hands were on her bare skin.
His thumb flicked across the pebble-hard nipple straining tight against her restrictive clothing. Damn, but she wanted to be naked. She threw back her head and a needy moan escaped her lips.
Putty. She was nothing but putty in his hands. The notion both frightened and exhilarated her.
Feverish desire clawed through her, pulling her down, drawing her under the power of Quinn’s spell. With the aurora borealis whipping gracefully in her peripheral vision, the fireplace embers glowing and Quinn’s tongue on its restless pursuit, she felt swept away by some unstoppable, forbidden fantasy.
Except this reality was more titillating than her most taboo dreams.
Too much torture. She simply could not stand this any longer. She wanted him. Now. Crazily, illogically, this very minute. She refused to stub out her urges. Passion pushed all her fears aside. Desire evaporated any shred of common sense she might have possessed. She wrenched her mouth from his.
“Quinn,” she gasped. “Before we go any further, there’s something I must tell you.”
He looked dazed, muzzy with craving. Their breathing mingled in rapid spurts.
“What is it?”
“I’m not...” She paused, not quite certain how to put this. “I’m not like other women.”
“You got that right, sweetheart.” He couldn’t seem to resist dropping a kiss on her jaw. That achingly light pressure threw her completely off-kilter.
She splayed a hand on his chest and pushed him back. She needed a moment to regroup. “No. I don’t mean it like that.”
He rearranged himself on the couch, shoved a hand through his hair and gave her his complete attention. “I’m listening.”
“I’ve never...” She squirmed uncomfortably. She hated admitting her deficiencies. She’d been raised on the myth that Freemonts never revealed their flaws. So why was she going to tell him her darkest secret? Because she felt as if he was the only one who could help her. “Well...you know...”
“What? Had sex?” He stared at her in disbelief.
“I’m twenty-seven, Quinn. I was almost engaged. Of course I’ve had sex.”
“Oh. What then?” He frowned.
This was so hard. She squirmed, she fidgeted. She tried the words out mentally first, but nothing seemed right. Finally she blurted, “I’ve never...” Then paused again.
“Never what?”
She dropped her voice to a whisper. “...had an orgasm.”
“You’re kidding. For real?”
She nodded. “Lloyd says I’m frigid. That it’s my fault he had to turn to other women.”
“Bullshit!” Quinn spoke with such vehemence, Kay jumped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. But that ex-boyfriend of yours is a jerk.”
His anger at Lloyd flattered her. She knew then that she had done the right thing by coming to Alaska, by revealing to Quinn her hidden shame.
“How he could fool around on such a beautiful, exciting, interesting woman is beyond me. He must have sawdust for brains.”
“You think I’m interesting?” She smiled shyly, not meaning to be coy. She wasn’t milking him for more compliments, but she was touched beyond measure that he found her interesting, as she’d always thought herself rather dull.
“Interesting, hell.” Quinn snorted. “You’re downright mysterious. You keep yourself so contained. I ache to know what you’re thinking when you get those Mona Lisa smiles on your face. And you’re anything but frigid. If you’ve never been able to come, it’s through no fault of your own. You’ve just been with the wrong men.”
Kay gulped. This next part was hard, but she had to say it. “I want to ask a favor of you.”
“What is it?” His eyes never left her face.
“Do you think that maybe you could help me...er...achieve sexual fulfillment?”
“Say the word, sweetheart,” he encouraged her, lifting a hand to capture a strand of her hair and rub it between his fingers. “Put aside that aristocratic breeding of yours and tell me that you want to come bigger than the state of Alaska.”
Pressing her teeth into her bottom lip, she stared straight into his eyes.
And almost lost it completely.
“I want you to make me come,” she begged him. “More than anything in the world.”
HOW HAD HE GOTTEN so lucky?
Kay Freemont, rich, successful, cultured and beautiful, wanted to entrust him, a simple Alaskan man, with her sexual awakening.
Stunned, delighted, touched, flattered and horny beyond comprehension. How had he gotten so lucky?
He sent a brief prayer of thanks to the heavens and added a pleading postscript: Don’t let me lose control. Help me to be strong so I can give her what she needs.
It was going to be hard—pun definitely intended—to rein in his own ravenous desires. He hadn’t been with a woman since he and Heather had broken up. He was hanging by a thread.
But he had to dig deep, find a way to put his own needs on hold. Because Kay was giving him the opportunity of a lifetime. She was granting him the privilege of bringing her to the heights of her sexuality.
He was a fortunate SOB and he would not let her down.
She took a long swallow of champagne, then sat her glass on the floor at her feet and shifted her body into his. “I’m ready, Quinn. Make love to me.”
Shaking his head, he reached out and tenderly traced her lips with his thumb. She shivered beneath his caress, and the shot of adrenaline that jumped into his gut floored him.
Control, Scofield. Control.
“Oh, no, my sweet, not so fast,” Quinn said, when what he wanted to do more than anything in the world was strip that velvet dress over her head, rip off those long johns and make messy, wet, hot love to her.
“What do you mean?” she whispered, her eyes growing wide.
“A proper seduction takes time.”
“Oh, yes? How much time?” She seemed alarmed.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
He grinned wickedly. “When you’re ready.”
“I’m ready tonight,” she said a bit peevishly. She narrowed her eyes at him and he understood her frustration. If she thought she was frustrated now, she was in for a big shock.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes,