Dancing in the Moonlight - Harlequin.com

220 DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT
slanted over her, and he watched her for several long
moments, his eyes hot and aroused.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His low
voice plucked and strummed along her nerve endings.
“Show me,” she murmured.
He groaned and lowered his mouth to take one taut,
aching nipple into his mouth. She buried her fingers in
his hair, holding him to her while he touched and licked
and teased, until she was consumed with the similar
need to touch him and taste him.
Her hands went to his shirt, and she pulled it free
without bothering to work the buttons. His muscles
were every bit as beautiful as they had felt through
cloth, rippling and hard, and she couldn’t resist tracing
her fingers across his pectorals.
Even though she hadn’t reached them yet, his abdominals
contracted at her featherlight touch on his chest
and he let out a long, ragged breath and kissed her.
She wanted to stay lost in his kiss, wanted to forget
everything but the heat and wonder blooming to life
inside her.
She should have been expecting it, bracing herself for
it, but before she quite realized what was happening, he
reached a hand to the snap of her slacks and worked her
zipper free.
Cold, cruel reality slapped her and she froze, her
heart racing as panic suddenly burst through her with
the speed and force of a bullet. In a moment she would
be naked and there would be nowhere to hide. The ugly
plastic and metal prosthesis—the hardware she despised—would
be laid bare for all the world.