He’d watched her from the time they’d reached the party that night, watched the material swirl around her, watched the rhinestones catch the light. He’d seen the easy sway of her walk and he’d listened to the sound of her laughter. He’d found himself praying just to have the night, no matter what came after. Just this night. And it was his. Her eyes were eternally blue as they stared into his. Her smile was sensual, tempting. He should tease her lips, but he didn’t. Instead he kissed her forehead, her cheeks and the lobe of her ear. He whispered against it, telling her just how wonderful she looked in the dress, and just what he intended to do to her and where. He lowered his lips to her shoulder and gloried in the satiny texture of her flesh there. He nuzzled the plunging cleavage of the gown, pressing his lips and tongue against the rise of her breasts. Then he rose, anxious to rid himself of his constricting clothes. She was suddenly on her knees before him, working on the buttons of his shirt.
