Parallel Fire by Deidre Knight Page A

restaurant. Goose bumps raced up and down her arms as he moved his hips in a sinuous motion, brushing his naked cock against her mound.
    â€œUm, there weren’t,” she squeaked, unconsciously arching up into his body as he scrapped his teeth along his mark.
    â€œWeren’t what?” he muttered, one hand moving up to start sliding her camisole up her stomach. He paused long enough to caress her there, trailing fire in his wake.
    â€œAny other men.”
    His hand stopped.
    His mouth stopped.
    His hips stopped. She was really sad when his hips stopped.
    â€œYou’re a virgin?” His voice sounded oddly strangled.
    â€œIt’s not a crime to be one, you know. I’m not the Oldest Living Virgin, or anything. It’s not like I’m in the Guinness Book of World Records,” she babbled. “Besides, I’ve done other things…oh!” His hands had started moving again, with a swiftness that startled her. Her camisole was toast as he ripped it literally from her body, his claws barely scrapping her skin, sending shivers of need once again down her spine.
    Claws?
    Emma had barely registered the fact that Max had used his claws to ruin her favorite shirt when he started working on her jeans. “No! Bad kitty!” She slapped him on the top of his head, determined to save at least some of her wardrobe.
    He lifted his head, his eyes golden and burning, a rumbling sound emanating from his throat as he pinned her hands above her head. Emma thought about struggling, but something about the way he looked had her lying passively. “You’re a virgin.”
    Emma blinked, unsure how to respond. “Duh.”
    Max stared down at her, his eyes narrowing as he studied her features as if seeing her for the very first time. “No man has ever touched you.”
    She thought about telling him about the make-out sessions her one and only boyfriend had talked her into, the oral sex they’d indulged in a few times, but decided that discretion was the better part of valor. Jimmy was a nice guy, and deserved to live. “Again. Duh.”
    â€œNo man will ever touch you again.”
    Emma studied granite-like features above her. “Even you?” The growl deepened. She sighed, inexplicably happy to hear that sound. “Okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Duh.” She grinned. “By the way, Lion-O, that was my favorite shirt.”
    He looked down. “Damn, Emma.”
    â€œWhat?” She looked down, expecting to see something odd, like very dried alfredo sauce decorating one boob or something. Instead she saw the pale pink lace bra she’d put on that morning, the one that was completely see-through. It helped give her confidence to feel the sexy lingerie against her skin, so much so she’d replaced all of her old undies with the lacy stuff.
    From the look, and feel, of things, Max definitely approved.
    Max switched her wrists into one hand. The other trailed down her body to her jeans, undoing the snap and zipper with ease. “Lift your ass, Emma,” he commanded. She obeyed without thinking, shifting so he could ease her jeans down her legs.
    He hissed out a breath at the sight of the pale pink lace panties that matched the bra. Underneath, she was hairless. “A full Brazilian,” he sighed.
    â€œUh-huh.”
    He moved his hand and began petting her over her panties, cupping her intimately. “Mine,” he sighed. His golden eyes bored into hers, a silent command in them. “Keep your hands where they are.”
    â€œWhy?” Emma complied as Max moved his hand slowly from her wrists, trailing down her arm to the side of her breast.
    â€œBecause I’m not ready for you to touch me yet. I want this first time to be yours.”
    â€œI’d rather it was ours.” She gasped as his hand gently embraced her breast. His thumb strummed gently over her nipple, causing it to peak under the pink bra.
    â€œTrust me,