His lips left her breast and drifted lower, over her midriff.

She caught her breath, glanced down. Tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged.

"Your trousers. Take them off." She had to pause to moisten her lips, met his eyes when he glanced up. Smiled like a cat. "I want to see all of you."

His hands had strayed to her hips. For one instant, his fingers flexed, pressed in, then his grip eased. Bending his head, he returned to tracing kisses about her navel, but his hands drifted down to his waistband.

She lay back, let her lids fall, seized the moment to catch her breath, very conscious of the warmth, the building heat, the rising, rushing tide of desire. His and hers-theirs-to be shared. Totally.

He shifted and she opened her eyes, watched him rear back and strip his trousers and stockings off; he'd already kicked off his shoes. Then he was as naked as she; as he turned back to her she wished there was a mirror usefully hung, so she could see his back, the long planes narrowing to his waist and hips, the long length of his muscled legs.

He was gorgeous-all she could see met with her complete approval, but she still hadn't seen all she wished to see.

She tried to push back from him, tried to glance down, but he followed her too closely, pressing her deep into the silken cushions as he lowered his body to hers, lowered his head and took her lips in a suddenly searing kiss.

A kiss that left little doubt the time had come, that the lion had played enough and now would have his due. A tide of desire seemed to rise at his command-he sent it rushing through her and it swept her away.

Martin couldn't control the force that had claimed him, that had driven him from the moment she'd told him just what had so aroused her. He knew he should think, but couldn't, couldn't free his rational mind from the overwhelming tide of desire, stronger this time than it had ever been before, fueled by a deeper passion, swollen by a whirlpool of emotions he didn't recognize, much less understand.

All he knew was that she was as committed as he to their joining, to the satisfaction of merging their bodies, to the soul-deep pleasure they would share. All he could feel was the driving need to be inside her, buried deeply within her luscious body, savoring the incredible sensation of her surrounding him, pleasuring his senses with the ultimate caress. With instincts trained by long experience, he'd managed to slow the tide, hold it back long enough to ease her way. But his reins had snapped in the instant he'd felt her bare thighs caress his naked flanks.

He caught her up in the kiss, pressed her back into the cushions, anchored one hand in her hair. With his hips, he pressed her thighs wide, then reached down between their bodies. His questing fingers stroked through the soft tufts of her curls; ravenous desire growled through him at the realization they were already damp.

Reaching further, he touched her, shackled his need long enough to trace the swollen folds, seized just one moment to learn her by a lover's touch, intimate and evocative. Hot wetness met his fingertips; sinking into her mouth, boldly probing with his tongue, he equally boldly opened her, then slid one long finger slowly, steadily into her soft sheath.

Her body arched lightly under his; she gasped through their kiss, then he took her mouth again, played havoc with her senses as he stroked once, twice-she clamped tight about his finger. He stroked again, then withdrew, then pressed another finger in alongside the first.

Her hips lifted, tilted; he inwardly smiled-ravenously. Overwhelmed by the kiss, senses dizzily fractured, she responded instinctively to the intimate caress, opening to his penetration, hips and thighs easing, relaxing.

He shifted, rising over her, pressing his hips deep between her thighs. Withdrawing his fingers to her entrance, he used them to guide the throbbing head of his erection into the soft, surrendering flesh. He pressed in and her slickness welcomed him. He rested there, just inside her body, and gave his attention to her mouth, demanding, commanding all her attention, enmeshing her senses… then he eased fractionally back and flexed his hips sharply.

Drove deep into her body with a single powerful thrust, felt the fleeting resistance of her maidenhead give way, felt the slick, sleek heat of her enclose him, then clamp tight about his rigid length.

Her cry was more a yelp, a sudden sound of pain. Then she stilled, completely, beneath him. Laboring for breath, in a state close to agony, he forced himself to remain still, held back the need to plunder her warmth, to conquer, claim her and make her his. One hand still anchored in her hair, the other braced beside her, he lifted his head and looked down at her face.

She drew in a huge, long-drawn breath, her breasts swelling against his chest. The ache in his loins increased another notch. Before he could summon wit enough to speak, her lids fluttered, lifted enough for him to see her eyes, the sapphire blue all but drowned, her gaze unfocused.

Then she exhaled, slowly. "Good God!"

She blinked, blinked again. Then her gaze slowly sharpened; she focused on his face. Blinked. Tried to shift-

"No!" He bent his head, touched his lips to hers, made them cling. "Just… wait a minute."

She let out another shuddering breath. "It feels like-"

He sealed her lips, kissed her long, hard and deep, and felt every last ounce of resistance melt away, felt her body soften under his.

Surrender.

No moment had ever been so sweet, filled with a heady sense of rightness, of this being his due, his right, his privilege.

As if to have her had been a lifelong ambition at long last realized.

He didn't even need to think to move, to start the slow, steady undulation of the dance that was, in truth, especially here and now, especially with her, second nature to him.

Their lips melded, parted, came together again; their bodies mirrored the movement. Their rhythm was not something he consciously set, so attuned to her needs, so sunk in her splendor, that he moderated the demands of his body instinctively, matching them to hers.

Until she writhed, sobbed, clung, until her hands sought his shoulders, fingers clutching, sinking deep, clinging frantically as ecstasy beckoned. Her knees rose, clamping about his hips; her hips tilted, taking him deeper, urging him to take, to claim.

He eased back only to spread her thighs wider, lift her knees higher until they gripped his waist, then he drove deeper into her core, deeper into her heat.

She drew back from their kiss, sobbed his name-and it had never sounded so evocative. He braced his arms, lifted his chest from her breasts, then bent his head, claimed her lips, and changed the tenor of their joining.

Changed gliding slide for forceful thrust, changed shallow angle for deeper, more powerful penetration. The strong, repetitive need washed over him; beneath him, she flowered and took him in. Then she seemed to catch her breath, as if her passion welled higher, reached a new level of desire. She boldly met him and matched him, her body caressing his, brazenly intimate.

Her softness drew him in and he was caught, the splendor of her body offering a sumptuous net into which he willingly fell. And then there was no longer her and him, separate entities, but one all-consuming need.

To be one. Utterly, completely-forever.

The wave swept in, broadsided him, lifted them both high on its crest.

Then she shattered, his name on her lips, her body clamping hard about his. Drawing him inexorably with her, into the white heat of the void.

Amanda clung, eyes closed, mind awash with bliss, knowing nothing beyond the incredible pleasure he'd given her, the joy they'd shared-and that he was still with her.

She could feel him, hard and hot at her core, buried so deep he'd touched her heart. She held tight as his body shuddered, convulsed, felt the rush of warmth deep within. Felt the intimacy strongly, powerfully, as with a muted groan he slowly collapsed onto her, their bodies slick, their lungs laboring, their hearts thundering in their ears. The physicality of the deed swept over her, her vulnerability, surrender implicit as she lay trapped beneath him, impaled to her heart.

And she knew she'd committed much more than the act.

Triumph filled her, but not the sort she'd expected to feel. This was a glow, a deeper, richer satisfaction, a tenderness that no girlish delight that he'd wanted her, desired her, and had been driven to have her despite and against his will could ever match.

She was a woman who had found her mate-her one true male-her destiny. Her future, and his.

Drifting on a tide of glory, she reached for him, found his face, trailed her fingers to his lips, then lifted her head and blindly pressed her lips to his.

He returned the caress; their lips clung, then parted.

With a soft sigh, she sank back, and let blissful exhaustion claim her.

He couldn't think.

It was a frightening realization. No matter how hard he tried to focus his mind, it remained blank, overwhelmed.

Martin had no idea how long he'd lain, stretched naked beside Amanda, equally naked, their limbs entwined, before he managed that much rationality. He knew the fact should scare him witless. Instead…

He was all too ready to ignore his mental vacuity, to indulge his senses rather than his wits.

His ever-greedy senses were very ready to be indulged. After all she'd given him, all he'd blindly taken, said senses should have been sated, yet ever since he'd attained some semblance of wakefulness, they'd been clamoring for more.