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She had

never seen a man's eyes look so… smoldering. He lowered his head to her, an

intense, incredibly erotic look on his face.

"I believe I am about to claim you, Ms. Masterson." The heated, implacable words

were breathed just against her lips.

"Oh, but I don't think—"

"Good. Don't think." His hot mouth closed firmly over her own.

Something happened when they came together.

Something beyond reason; something primitive and erotically wild. What started

out as steady heat quickly escalated to an intense, untamable, unstoppable

maelstrom of passion.

She didn't remember her shorts coming off. Or her top. Or her bra and panties,

for that matter. She certainly couldn't recall Tyber slipping out of his jeans

and underwear.

She was aware of the first time his powerful leg brushed against hers. And of

his naked thigh inserting itself between her own. She remembered the feel of the

hair on his leg gliding against the smooth skin of her inner thigh.

The touch of his hands, large and warm against the bare skin of her back.

The sultry caress of his long hair across her chest as his unyielding mouth took

hers once again.

The commanding way he turned her to maximize the pleasure.

It seemed as if Tyber could not get enough of her. He massaged his palms

ardently over her body as they lay facing each other, his untamed yet sensitive

touch arousing nerve endings she didn't even know she had. He caressed and

stroked as if she were his personal pagan sacrifice. His to do with as he

wished. His to consume.

She would never forget the sultry, sizzling expression on his wildly handsome

face as he lost himself in sensual pleasures the depth of which she had never

experienced before.

Like hot, wet silk, his mouth fastened on the curve of her neck as he cupped her

bottom to press her tight against him. He was throbbing. Incredibly hard.

Incredibly endowed.

In a feminine action as old as time, Zanita moved slightly away from him. What

am I doing?

He firmly brought her back.

"I—I'm—" He never let her complete the sentence. Entwining his legs with hers,

his large hands cupping her head, lacing through her curls, he held her still

for his voracious, heart-stopping kisses. She dissolved totally, melting into

his embrace.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tyber knew that a fever had him in its grip.

Uncharacteristic or not, he had no intention of pulling free.

When he rolled the rosy turgid peak of her breast along the edge of his teeth,

the choking sound issuing from low in her throat sizzled him.

When he drew the edge of her breast deep into his wet mouth and Zanita began to

whimper, his body temperature soared.

Her little cries of passion made his rushing blood burn. His only coherent

thought was—more.

Tyber's hands slid under her back, raising her to him, as he dropped his head

between her full breasts to rub his face roughly against her skin, deeply

inhaling her womanly scent. He was lost… lost.

Tyber's uninhibited sensuousness took Zanita's breath away.

He ignited her.

Zanita pressed her lips to his steaming throat, right over a throbbing vein. She

could feel his pulse, his life force, beating strong beneath her mouth. Tyber

turned his head to the side to give her better access; his ragged breath

skittered across the top of her head as her mouth drew insistently on him. In

response, his muscular arms fastened securely around her slim waist, an

imprisoning web of masculine strength, as soft as silk, as strong as steel.

Each entangled the other. They clung together in passion like interwoven vines.

Zanita ran her kiss-swollen lips up the strong column of his throat, now craving

him like her personal designer drug. She stopped to tug sharply on his earlobe,

then ran the small point of her tongue around the rim of his ear, darting the

tip just inside.

His quick intake of breath and slight tremor inflamed her.

Losing all reserve, her actions unconsciously mimicked his as she buried her

face in his long, fragrant hair, breathing deeply of its clean masculine scent

before writhing against him like a cat in heat.

Tyber went wild.

He rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath him. His mouth crashed down on

hers, a searing brand of possession. His fingers laced with hers, pinning her to

the cushion beneath them as he imprisoned her hands in a classic stance of male

sexual domination. This enlightened Renaissance man had just shed his cloak of

refinement; he became untamed, insatiable, and definitely ready for love.

He entered her in one sure stroke to the hilt.

They both cried out.

She wrapped her legs tightly around him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her.

Then Tyber fused his mouth to hers and moved in her. And moved in her. And moved

in her.

She felt the first tremors, not quite sure what was happening. She begged him to

stop; Tyber ignored her.

He was relentless.

She began sobbing. She threatened him if he stopped. For the first time in her

life, she lost her inhibitions; she screamed and hollered and had one hell of a

time. When the exploding spasms rocked her, they were so intense, she took him

with her right over the edge.

Tyber groaned from the depths of his soul and had the most powerful orgasm he

had ever had in his life. Collapsing on top of her, he nestled his head in her

shoulder, too shaken to move a muscle.

Zanita came down to earth, blinked her eyes at the moon, and grinned like the

Cheshire cat against the sweat-slicked skin of Tyber's throat.

Good Lord… He had done it!

She had been well and truly befuddled.

After several minutes, Tyber raised his head, tossing back his mane of hair.

He had figured it out.

The knowledge that he wanted this woman now, again, tomorrow, became crystal

clear to him. She had responded to him as she had to no other man, he was sure

of that. His arms tightened around her as he bent forward to give her a sweet,

lingering kiss.

His fingers massaged her scalp as he gazed thoughtfully into her eyes. "I'm the

first one to make you feel that way."

"How did you know?" She seemed surprised at his level of perception.

Tyber raised a lordly eyebrow. "Well, let me think… I could say it's intuition

or even my great psychic ability, but perhaps it was all the yelling—'Oh my God

what's happening

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