[Daemon's] arms tightened, drew her closer as his hand stroked up and down her back, just for the simple pleasure of it. She sighed. The tension in her muscles eased a bit, and she rested against him more fully.

He wasn’t thinking of seduction when his hands began to wander over her—or when her hands hesitantly stroked him.

He wasn’t thinking of seduction when his body delighted in how different the silky skin of her neck felt under his mouth compared to the robe beneath his hands.

He wasn’t thinking of sex when he opened his robe and then hers so that only that film of spidersilk separated skin from skin. Or when even the spidersilk no longer separated them.

He wasn’t thinking of sex when his mouth settled over hers and he sent them both sliding into dark, hot desire. And by the time he found himself in bed, listening to her purr with pleasure while he moved inside her, he wasn’t able to think at all.

Author: Anne Bishop