Transcendent Read Online Free Page B

she turned her head to the side with a sigh, he set his mouth to the hollow under her ear.
    A tiny, secretive shudder rippled through her. It was amazing what a precision stealth assault could accomplish where air strikes and heavy ordinance failed. “Put your hands above your head and leave them there.”
    â€œThat has nothing to do with touching me,” she said without moving.
    True, but it had everything to do with surrender. “Surely you understand the concept of setting a scene,” he murmured into her hair.
    She turned her head to meet his gaze. Again, that heart-stopping jolt. Then, defiance in every line of her body, her mouth set in a firm line, she lifted her hands over her head, palms up, fingers curled, the movement as elegant and impassive as a ballerina’s. He sat up and straddled her hips, then trailed his fingers gently over the cashmere and down her sides in sweeping movements, stroking the fine material clinging to the lines of her body. The tension in her body eased ever so slightly with each pass of his hands. Her full lips parted as sensation lapped at her resistance.
    Then he switched tactics, increasing the pressure of his touch, catching the cashmere between his fingers and using it to caress the skin of her arms, then her shoulders, then abdomen. Eyes heavy-lidded, she undulated, then stiffened up again, as if reminded of her determination to defy what he made her feel.
    He avoided her breasts entirely until her nipples peaked under the material, then stroked only the gentle swell of the undersides. Nothing came between his hands and her skin except the sweater.
    â€œNo bra?”
    â€œI’m barely an A cup. You know that,” she said. The words held a hint of Miss Banks’ green-apple-tart tone but were low, distant. Absorbed in what he made her feel, despite the set of her body.
    So the lacy bras and garter belts were part of the costume she wore for their encounters. He filed away this detail of the real Marin. “I like you like this,” he said. “Bare. Accessible.”
    Another soft, distracted sound, but she went silent when he used the backs of his curled fingers to pet the sides of her breasts. The first time he grazed her nipples she gasped and the second time she arched into his hands like a cat. He kept the material between his thumbs and forefingers as he pinched and rolled the swollen peaks.
    She grew taut underneath him, her body quivering with resistance. Her eyes opened, closed, opened again, fighting to stay alert and distance herself from what she felt. Another firmer pinch and she let out a whimper, bit her lip, then curled her fingers into the sheet above her head. His cock strained at his zipper, but he ignored his need and focused on the subtle battle she waged inside. Protracted, gentle touch generated an entirely different kind of need in Marin. Hotter. Softer. Languid. Her lips were pink and swollen from her efforts to muffle the noises growing throatier as the minutes passed.
    Watching her sink into desire and fight it every step of the way sent hot lust cracking down his spine. He focused his attention on her breasts and nipples and let sensation work against her trembling body until he couldn’t stand the barrier between them and pushed at her sweater.
    â€œOff,” he commanded.
    She’d followed orders frequently enough to automatically obey the tone, and let him pull her sweater over her head. He smoothed the tousled hair back from her face then deliberately bent to her nipples, patiently seeking the right combination of teeth and tongue to make her quiver with the effort of not reacting. She moaned when he abandoned the pink, swollen tips to press a line of kisses down the center of her body. With little effort he worked her jeans down and off. He kissed each hipbone, the taut skin of her abdomen, the bottom of her sternum, then shifted back to her side, leaned his head on his doubled arm and slid his fingers