Tempted by the Prince (The Raminar Family Book 4) Elizabeth Lennox (little bear else holmelund minarik TXT) 📖

to her before.  Many times over the past several days.  In fact, he loved teasing her core, watching her body come alive to his touch but not letting her reach that release until…until he’d brought her to the edge over and over again.

“Please,” she sobbed, trying to get away.  But as soon as he took his finger away, she grabbed his wrist.

“You’re going to stay still, Rachel,” he warned, trying to hide his smile.

“Yes!” she sobbed, pressing her hands against his shoulders until he felt the small pricks of her fingernails.  “Yes.  I’ll be still.”

He knew that she wouldn’t be, but it turned him on when she tried…and failed.

Moving closer, his mouth covered that nub, flicking it with his tongue and she screamed, fighting to remain still.  He pulled away and she smacked her fists against the covers of the bed.

“I won’t do it again!” she vowed.

He laughed.  “Yes, you will.   I loved it. And so did you.”

She lifted her head, glaring at him, and he lifted his eyebrows in question.  “Then why are you doing this to me?”

He slid a finger along the wet, glistening folds.  “Because I like it.”

She gritted her teeth and tried to pull back, sliding away from his mouth.

He knew all her tricks though and grabbed her hips, pulling her back into position.  “You know that’s not going to work, love.”

“Please!  I can’t take much more of this,” she begged, combing her fingers through his hair.  He smirked, lowering his head again.

“I think you can,” and with that warning, he moved closer.  But this time, she was too close to the edge and she exploded against his mouth.  He loved this, loved feeling her writhe in such an uninhibited way.  With his mouth and fingers, he extended her pleasure until she sighed and he pulled back.

Grabbing a condom, he rolled it down over his shaft, then settled himself over her again.  “Tell me that you want me,” he ordered, pressing against her opening, but not entering her.

She shuddered, wrapping her legs around him.  Damn, he loved this woman!

“I want you,” she whispered, lifting her hips to meet his thrust.  “I want you so much!” she gasped as he pressed into her, filling her up until she arched into him, taking him even deeper into her body.

Then he started thrusting, slowly at first, bringing her back to need.  All too soon, she was exploding around him, her inner muscles clamping down on his shaft.  Her climax took him right along with her and he filled her up, groaning with his own release.

Chapter 11

Over the next two weeks, Rachel fell further in love with Tarin.  Every day, they worked together, and not just on the university project. He brought her in on several other major initiatives that he was working on.  She felt as if she were part of the team, especially when he asked her for her opinion.  Even his other advisors came to her for assistance, asking for feedback and for her organizational capabilities.  She analyzed the financials for the various projects, offered her feedback, provided options, and felt more alive than at any other time in her life.

At night, Tarin took her into his arms and made love to her.  She never knew if their lovemaking was going to be wild and frantic, or slow and languorous.  Every moment in his company was filled with pleasure of one kind or another.

And after he’d make love to her, he’d turn on music, pull her into his arms and teach her about dancing.  She learned the foxtrot and the two step, swing dancing and, one night, he showed her the tango.

“It’s a love story,” he explained, guiding her into position.

“A dance is a love story?” She looked at him with that teasing glint in her eyes.

“Don’t mock,” he told her sternly.  “This is a battle between the sexes, a love story of the ages.”  He took her hands and placed one on his shoulder, the other in his own.  “It’s all about a battle for control.”  He stepped forward and she instinctively moved backwards.  “A battle of love and hatred.”

She laughed, but by now, she could anticipate what he would do merely by the way his hands felt on her skin.  “A love story about hatred?”

“Absolutely,” he replied.  “The tango is about the dichotomy between emotions.  Hatred and love. Happiness and sadness.  Life and death.  It’s a back and forth, with each emotion, each person, battling for control.”

She stumbled a few times, but he merely steadied her against him, causing them to pause as their skin on skin contact aroused them.

“I push you one way, then you push me back, forcing me to listen to you.”  She moved forward, “pushing” him backwards.  “And then I confuse you with a twirl,” and he spun her under his arm.  She twirled again and again.  “But I’m always there to unravel the mysteries,” and he caught her in his arms.  “But you don’t want my power,” he explained and pushed her outward, their hands clasping as she extended her arms, “but our love is too strong and we can’t fight the battles of the world without each other.”  He spun her back into his arms.  “And then we’re back to the dance, again,” he explained, moving her forward, then himself backwards.

By the time he dipped her at the end of the dance, arching her over his arm, she was breathless and more turned on than she could ever remember.

“Kiss me, Tarin,” she whispered urgently.

They didn’t make it to the bed that time and she gasped as he entered her.  There was no more foreplay.  Just the age old primal dance until they found their release in each other’s arms.  As he lifted her up and carried her to bed, she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Who won?”