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What is it?
The morello cherry tart. . . with whipped cream. He set her down on the table, which had been
cleared but for the silver epergne, the cherry tart, and the little bowl of whipped cream, and farther down,
a little pile of unused silverware that awaited Walsh to put it away.
The table was a huge expanse of snowy white linen, and on every wall, the big mirrors reflected the two
of them, alone at last, wrapped up in each other.
Robert, do you expect me to eat with my hands? Go fetch me one of those forks down there.
How unimaginative of you, Miss Hamilton, he murmured, dipping his finger in the whipped cream. He
offered it to her with a sultry smile.
With a low, wicked laugh, she accepted hungrily, sucking his finger clean.
He stood in front of her where she sat on the table; she parted her legs to let him move closer. Gently he
took her face between his hands and kissed her with slow, drugging depth. As she clung to him, going
weak with desire, she knew she had never felt so close to him, still flush with their shared victory.
She sighed with pleasure as he moved lower, kissing her chin, her neck. His hands moved in slow
caresses up and down her back and then she felt a small tug and glanced askance at him, realizing he had
just unhooked her gown.
Pray, what do you think you re doing, sir? she asked in mock hauteur.
Having my dessert, he whispered, peeling her bodice down in front to her waist so that she sat on the
edge of the dining-room table bare chested, with nothing but a diamond necklace around her throat.
She braced her hands back behind her and stared at him, waiting. He glanced at the bowl of cream.
Then she laughed with lazy desire when he smeared her breasts with whipped cream and commenced
licking it off. Her laughter died away as the hot, tugging sensation of his hungry, suckling mouth moved
her into ever deeper waves of want.
She wrapped her arms around his wide shoulders, ran her fingers through his silky black hair. Caressing
her breasts, he eased her back onto the table, cradling her head with one hand.
His hair tousled from her caresses, he glanced at her with a cocky half smile, whipped cream around his
wet, wanton mouth.
You have such a beautiful mouth, she whispered as she curled up and licked his lips clean. Her hands
trembled as she undressed him.
Moments later his body was naked to the waist. She gasped softly at the blissful sensation of his velvety
muscled chest against her bare skin, so intimate, so warm. She molded her hands to his powerful
shoulders then ran them down his massive arms, entranced by every line of him.
He skimmed his lips across her brow, down her cheek, down her throat. Are you going to let me make
love to you tonight?
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Possibly, she said faintly, her eyes closed in breathless sensation.
Oh, I ll have to do better than that.Possibly, he scoffed.
You re welcome to try.
That sounds . . . he kissed her, unpinning her hair distinctly like a challenge, Miss Hamilton.
She traced the ridges of his washboard stomach. Hmm?
I think you ve just thrown down the gauntlet. Now I shall have to seduce you in earnest.
She laughed and spread her arms out on the table, lying back. Do your worst.
I shall. His hands glided down her hips, following her curves. God, you re beautiful, he whispered.
Oh, Hawk, touch me, she breathed, chest heaving. Her wetness flowed in anticipation of his touch as
his hand glided up under her skirts. She acquiesced, parting her thighs wider at his gentle push. Then his
warm fingers eased into her soaked passage, his thumb circling lightly on her mound. She groaned in
surrender. He kissed her breasts with leisurely enjoyment.
With his dark eyes gone hazy and heavy lidded, he watched her fall utterly under his spell. He pleasured
her until she was writhing and riding his fingers on the hard table. Then he moved up, staring at her as he
unfastened his black trousers. She waited in quivering anticipation. He guided his massive erection to her
teeming threshold.
With a hot, roguish little smile, he sported with her, played the tease. He rubbed himself slick in her
wetness until she begged for him and only then did he deign to give her an inch or so, tantalizing her.
You are a wicked man, she panted.
Yes, he whispered. But let that be our little secret. Do you need me now, darling? Do you need me
deep inside you?
God, yes, Hawk, please, she groaned, undulating beneath him.
He captured her hands, linked his fingers through hers, and caught her heaving gasps of awe on his
tongue as he filled her, inch by inch, until he had driven in to the hilt.
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