He followed her into the room and closed the French doors. "I'm on my own home ground now." He took a step nearer so that he was directly behind her. With one sweeping motion, he sliddown the zipper of her dress. "And I told you I won't share you."
His hands slipped inside the loosened dress. "Naked," he said hoarsely. "There was nothing in the world more erotic than knowing that you were naked beneath that flimsy layer of silk." His hands were squeezing her waist, his fingertips running over the supple muscles with a pleasure that was echoed in his voice. "While we were sitting there at the table I was thinking how beautiful you'd look when I took it off you." His hands moved slowly up her back, and with painstaking care he pushed the silk off her shoulders. "I don't know what we ate this evening." He pushed the bodice down another inch until it hovered over the tips of her breasts. "All I could taste were warm, sweet breasts." He drew the silk farther down until it fell about her hips. She felt dizzy. "And I wondered if the rest of you would taste as sweet." He suddenly jerked the material over her hips and let it fall into a pool at her feet, leaving her in only her high-heeled sandals. "Look as sweet."
Then the sandals also slipped from her feet as his hands encircled her waist and lifted her out of the dress. He held her for a moment, rubbing her against him with a raw sensuality that made her heart pound wildly. "And you do look sweet." He kissed her deeply. "And you taste ..." He lifted his head, his eyes glazed with need. He drew a deep, shaky breath and slowly released her. "Not yet. I want to look at you for a few minutes. This golden half light was created for you." He took a few steps back, his eyes flicking over her with an intimacy that caused a tingling to start between her thighs. His hands finished unbuttoning his shirt and he stripped it off, his eyes never leaving her. "I don't want to make love to you in the dark. I want to do it now with you awash in this golden mist. I want to watch your silver hair flying around your face as I move in you."
She laughed shakily. "Then you'd better hurry. I don't know how long this light will last." She bit her lower lip. "I don't know how long I will, either. Do you want me to undress you?"
"I'll do it. It's faster." She watched him as he stripped with efficient swiftness. He had a beautiful body, she thought dreamily. Lean and tough, with tight, hard buttocks and a horseman's strong, muscular thighs. The cloud of dark hair on his chest looked soft and inviting to touch. "And that's the last hurried action we're taking tonight. Slow. Every move slow and easy." He was drawing her over to the wing chair by the French doors. "I want to play with you, get to know your body. I don't know how long I can stand it, but I want to try. Would you mind?"
"Not at all." She didn't know if he heard. Her assent had been a mere breath of sound. She was surprised the words came out at all.
"Good." He dropped into the chair and pulled her down on his lap, facing him. She gasped. The masculine hardness of his bones and sinews was a sensual shock against her softness. She had never felt so womanly before in her life. She was conscious of the pliant softness of each curve, the ripe fullness of her breasts, the slight swell of her buttocks against the hardness of his thighs. Good heavens, the differences between their bodies! He rubbed his chest lightly, teasingly, against her breasts, the soft mat of hair tickling the sensitive tips. She made a low sound deep in her throat and arched against him. "Philip."
"I know." He was undulating like a cat against her, his eyes closed with an expression of pleasure so sensual that it was an arousal in itself. "It's too much, isn't it? It's killing me too. I feel as if I'm going to explode any moment. Just a little more. Lord, you feel good against me." His eyes opened and they were clouded with a smoky intensity. His entire body was hardening against her, muscles taking on a tension that was unbearably exciting for her to feel. He kissed her temple. "Be very still. I want to pet you a little. It won't be long."
Then his hand was running over her with a skilled sensitivity that caused tremors to rack her with every deft stroke. His long, tanned fingers were lifting her breasts, rubbing the undersides with smooth gentle rhythm. She could feel the muscles of her stomach clench. The tension was rising within her until it was painful.
"So pretty." His hand moved down to her stomach. He laughed softly as he felt the tautness beneath his palm. "You're wanting me, aren't you? Do you know how wonderful that makes me feel? How much do you want me?" His fingers moved exploringly down between her thighs, and she gasped as they entered with one smooth stroke and began to move. She buried her head against his chest, her breathing coming in little pants. Unbelievable. It was unbelievable. "I think you want me quite a lot," he said thickly. His other palm was stroking the soft nest of curls, pulling, probing, tugging gently. "But not as much as I want you. It's a physical impossibility. I'm going to go up in smoke in another second. I've never wanted a woman like this before. It's tearing the guts out of me."
Even through the haze that was enveloping her she was conscious of the thread of anger beneath the hoarseness of his voice. Poor Philip, she thought vaguely. He always liked to be in control, but he was caught in the same sensual web that she was. Her lips moved lovingly on his shoulder. "It's all right, Philip. Everything will be fine."
He glanced down at her in surprise. Then, for a moment, there was an expression of exquisite gentleness that transformed the taut hardness of his face. "Yes, everything will be all right," he said huskily.
His arms shifted and tightened, and suddenly he was standing, carrying her toward the bed. He placed her on the cool, silk counterpane, and followed her down. His thighs were on either side of her. She could feel the thin dusting of hair against her own smoothness. Different. So beautifully different.
"Do you know what I'm seeing when I look at you?" He whispered. "Gold. Satin gold skin, silver gold hair." His fingers combed slowly through the thick length of her tresses before bringing two silky locks forward and winding them around her breasts so that only her nipples were revealed. "Just these lovely things are pink." He bent forward, his teeth pulling gently on one taut peak.
He was golden too. The light streaming through the French doors gave his bronzed skin a shining patina and played over the supple muscles of his shoulders. Her hands grasped those shoulders, and she arched up against him as she felt his tongue touching, his teeth nipping, pulling hot wires of sensation that led to every part of her body. "I want to memorize the taste of every sweet part of you. You should be savored." He closed his eyes. "But I'm too hungry. I'm starving to death, Pandora." His hands released her breasts and he was moving between her thighs. "And you are, too, aren't you?"
Hunger. Aching. Yearning to be filled. "Yes, I'm starving too."
He laughed huskily. "God, I love to hear you say that." He leaned forward to kiss her with such loving sweetness that joy welled and flowed, not easing the hunger, but blurring the edges with beauty.
He plunged forward. Pain! It lasted only for a moment, piercing, shocking her. But it was Philip who cried out and froze in her arms. No! He mustn't do that. "It's all right." Her hands released their hold on his shoulders and moved up to caress his cheeks. "Please. It's all right." It was better now, and she began to move, enticing him, reveling in him.