How to Trap a Tycoon Elizabeth Bevarly (year 7 reading list txt) 📖

He chuckled. "Oh, Dorsey, the things we can teach each other."

Her laughter joined his. "So what are you waiting for?"

Nothing, as became evident immediately. Because before Dorsey had even completed the question, Adam was tucking her right back into his embrace and lowering his head to hers. This time his kisses were less leisurely than before. This time there was hunger, demand and intensity. This time, there would be no retreat for conversation. This time, they would brand each other for life.

Life , Dorsey echoed faintly to herself as she got more and more lost in his kiss. She could hardly wait for that life to begin. Then Adam deepened his kiss even more, tasted her to the very depths of her soul, and she thought, Um, yeah, okay, I guess I can wait just a little while…

Then that thought, too, faded easily away, because, quite frankly, her brain was the last body part she wanted to be using at the moment. Lifting her hands to his hair, she threaded her fingers through the silky tresses, recalling quickly how much she loved doing this, how good it felt to pull him closer, how very possessive she could be where he was concerned. Adam seemed to sense her thoughts, because he looped his arms around her waist and splayed his hands open over her back to push her body flush with his own. It was an exquisite feeling, touching every inch of his body with every inch of hers, and she reveled in the realization that she would be able to do this forever.

But forever could wait a bit, too, because Dorsey couldn't. Neither could Adam, evidently, because as he pressed upon her—into her—one particularly soulful kiss, he moved a hand forward to curve his fingers unapologetically over her breast. A keen heat shot through her at the contact, and she gasped as she tightened her own fingers in his hair. In response, he, too, clenched his hand tighter, more resolutely, over her, and she was helpless to halt the moan that arose from some deep, dark place inside her.

"Again," she managed to murmur, and immediately Adam obeyed. Several times, in fact.

Without even thinking about what she was doing, relying on simple reaction now, Dorsey dropped a hand to the button of his blue jeans and punched it through its mooning. Hastily, she tugged down the zipper and dipped her hand inside the stiff fabric, until she held him, pulsing and hard, in her palm. He was already slick with his desire for her, and she rejoiced in the knowledge of the power she held over him. Then he caught the fastening of her own jeans in two deft fingers and loosed it, thrusting his own hand inside to easily—and quickly—find the damp, heated heart of her. And when Dorsey's knees buckled beneath her, she understood that that power ran both ways.

Adam roped his other arm around her waist, catching her capably before she would have melted to the ground. But as he held her, he continued the intimate onslaught he'd started with the other hand. Back and forth his fingers furrowed her delicate flesh, drawing erotic patterns and scandalous designs. Over and over he penetrated her, first with one finger, then two, until she was nearly insensate with wanting him.

As his actions intensified, her own exploration of him ebbed, but not so far that he remained in control of himself. As she slowly ran her fingers along the solid length of him, as she methodically rolled her palm over the tip of his shaft, his respiration accelerated and his own ministrations grew more haphazard.

And just when she grew certain that she wouldn't be able to respond in any way other than bursting into flame, somehow, Dorsey found the focus, the energy, to murmur, "Adam."

For a moment, he didn't reply, only stilled his hand and relaxed—a little—his body. Finally, though, weakly, he whispered, "What?"

"I really, really, really want you," she told him.

"That's good," he replied breathlessly. "That's real good. Because I really, really, really, want you, too."

With much reluctance, she pointed out, "But there's no place to… I mean, we can't… There isn't room here to—"

Before she could even complete the sentence—and in one swift, fluid gesture—Adam withdrew his hand from her jeans, tugged them, and her panties, down over her hips, tossed his leather jacket up onto the counter and deposited Dorsey, bare-bottomed, atop it. The feel of soft leather beneath her naked flesh was an erogenous adventure she wasn't likely to forget anytime soon. She held her breath for a moment, to see if the counter would come crashing down with her upon it, but it held firm.

And so did Adam.

Without compunction or care, he finished removing her jeans and panties and tossed them to the floor, unheeded. Then, without scruple or ceremony, he began to shed his own. Dorsey's eyes widened in wonder at what he clearly meant to do, then a thrill of anticipation shot through her like a lightning bolt.

"Are you sure you want to try this?" she asked. But already she was scooting closer to the edge—to Adam.

"Oh, yes," he readily assured her. "I've been thinking about this for a loooong time. Well, this and about a million other varieties of joining my body to yours. But we can get to them next week," he hastily assured her. "In fact, I've been anticipating this so much lately that—" He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a condom, smiling hugely. "I didn't even bother to put it in my wallet."

Dorsey smiled back. "Gosh, I hope you brought more than one."

He tipped his head back and tented his hands before himself in silent benediction. "Thank you for this woman," he said to some unknown deity. Then he returned his gaze to her face. "Because she is, without question, the answer to every prayer, every wish, every dream I've ever had."

Oh, well, since he put it like that…

"I love you, Adam."

His gaze never left