Delilah's Flame by Andrea Parnell

herself struggling, to no avail. Tabor settled himself over her, his weight pinning her tightly to the bed. His mouth replaced his hand over her lips. Again she fought as something intense and frightening ignited within her. Disgust? No. Desire? Impossible. She refused to admit it. She hated Tabor Stanton.
    His free hand tore the puffed silk sleeve from one shoulder and slid to the soft swell of her breast. She gasped her horror at his action and her reaction. A quick rush of heat filled her. She’d never been touched that way, never been forced so close to a man. The shame of it was that half the emotion she felt was desire. How could she? How could she have turned wanton? For him?
    As his hand moved lower, she fought a new surge of passion but felt herself weakening. Delilah shut her eyes. It was a mistake, heightening the other senses to his nearness. His lips, ravishing hers, still held the taste of sherry. The scent of him, maleness and leather, intoxicated her...the sound of his heartbeat and breathing drummed in her ears. His body against her was hard and strong as steel, his mouth unrelenting.
    Her body turned renegade, responding to him, wanting to give in to him, softening under his pressure. “Tabor...” she moaned as his tongue slid past her lips.
    “You won’t regret losing this time, Delilah. I promise,” came his hoarse whisper.
    His words were ill-timed and reminded her who he was. When he released her arms, she struck at his shoulders with her fists. But as his mouth reclaimed hers, the fighting ceased and she clutched at his leather vest instead. Lost, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him closer.
    “Delilah,” he whispered, kissing her face as he plucked the pins from her flaming hair. Fingers laced in the loosened silk strands, he continued exploring the velvet warmth of her mouth, stopping only when he felt her struggle for breath. Damm, how he wanted her.
    His mouth crushed down hard on hers again, savoring the honey taste of her lips. His tongue swept once more into the soft hollows of her mouth.
    Delilah’s arms locked around him, holding him close when she would have pushed him away. Oh, God help her, she was kissing him back, joying in the feverish press of his lips.
    “Nooo,” she moaned when he took his mouth away. Her eyes locked instinctively with his.
    “Yes,” he corrected, his hands never leaving her. Warm rough fingers slid from her hair to her throat, over her shoulders, downward to tease beneath the restricting lace-covered bodice. With what seemed like infinite slowness, he unbuttoned each tiny black pearl stud. When all were free, he parted the garment, moaning as the rose-tipped mounds spilled out.
    He drew a ragged breath. “Christ, you’re a bittersweet woman, Delilah. So damn beautiful. So bad.” His palms made slow circles over the tightening peaks. “I think you need taming. Am I right?”
    “Yes,” she whispered breathlessly. Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out logic and thought. “Yes.”
    Tabor stripped away his vest and shirt and flung them to the floor. His eyes lingered on her milk-white flesh. She had a small dark mole on the left side below her breast. He found it provocative, a tiny secret for his eyes only. Whispering her name, Tabor eased himself down on her, crushing her softness against his hair-glazed chest. Both moaned at the maddening contact. Face buried in her fragrant hair, he slid his mouth lower until he found the velvet flesh and the marble-hard peaks he craved.
    Her loins ached in a way she had never known. Delilah, jolted beyond reason by a host of new and shattering emotions, cried out his name as his hand probed recklessly beneath her skirts. Warm fingers drifted maddeningly past silk stockings and satin garters, caressing smooth, soft skin, stopping only when his hand reached that intimate part of her. Soft cries came from her lips as he probed the soft, springy curls there. Her body felt hot and fiery as a new star,