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  Her slender arms moved from his shoulders to his strong neck and she held onto him like a straw tossed on an ocean wave.

  Registering her feminine heat and the rising scent of her body, Martin pulled her closer, trying to absorb her into himself. He was certain she could hear his increased respiration and feel the hardness he was helpless to control. His fire and passion were raging and spreading—out of control, and he did to her what he didn’t do the first time he tasted her lips. He devoured her mouth.

  One hand held her chin gently as the other searched for the zipper at the back of her dress. Forcing himself to go slowly, he lowered the zipper to her waist, exposing her bare back. Martin didn’t want to hurt Parris nor did he want to frighten her.

  Both hands feathered over her naked skin until his hands grazed the cotton panty of her pantyhose. She moaned once against his invading tongue as one hand gathered the hem of her dress to her waist.

  Parris was lightheaded with her rising desire and her hands were as busy as Martin’s when she untied the deep rose pink length of satin from around his neck. The bow tie floated to the floor.

  A low tortured groan was swallowed up by the drums the moment Martin’s hand slipped under the waistband to her pantyhose and he found her hot, wet and pulsing.

  “That’s the fire, baby,” he crooned against her moist lips. “You are the fire.”

  His hand claimed her womanhood, one finger searching between the succulent folds and finding her ready. Her pulsing flesh closed on his finger and he swept her up in his arms, taking the stairs two at a time.

  Placing her on the center of his bed, Martin didn’t take his gaze off her face. He recognized the flood of desire flushing her features. Her dress, bunched up above her waist and down around her shoulders was a twisted ribbon of orange. Silken nylons shimmered on her long legs and the variegated colors of orange, purple, pink and red on the snakeskin high heels on her narrow feet contrasted sharply against the white bed sheet.

  Undressing quickly, his trousers, cummerbund, socks and shoes were pooled on the carpeted floor. Seconds later his briefs joined the pile, and he stood above her, naked, proud and magnificent in all of his throbbing male splendor.

  Parris wanted to look away but couldn’t. She could not believe the perfection of the body poised above her. Martin Cole was larger, much larger than she thought he could possibly be. His broad chest was covered with thick black curling hair which tapered to a thin line before disappearing into an inverted triangle of even coarser hair, from which throbbed a long, thick length of hard dark-brown flesh nestled between strong muscled thighs.

  She closed her eyes, registering the overwhelming heat from his body as he sank down to the bed. She curled her fingers into tight fists as he removed her dress, shoes and then her pantyhose, opening them only when she heard Martin’s breath explode from between his compressed lips.

  Every muscle in his body screamed and vibrated. The smell of her perfume on her skin and hair rose sharply in his nostrils, making his blood rush hot and uncontrollably in his veins.

  Martin laid his right hand, fingers outstretched over her flat belly. She inhaled deeply and her firm golden breasts with their dark nipples trembled noticeably above her narrow rib cage. He lay down beside Parris, pulling her to his side. He had to force himself to go slow; slow enough so he wouldn’t spill out his passions before he claimed her body.

  “I am going to love you, Parris. Love you until you forget any other man ever existed. Love you until you want me as much as I want you.” Moving over her, he supported his weight on his elbows and lowered his body.

  Her arms curved under his arms and grasped his thick shoulders. “I want you, Martin. I want you so very, very much,” she confessed.

  He kissed her forehead, her nose, her mouth, then moved lower to her neck, his tongue tasting and savoring her flesh. “Oh, baby,” he moaned before his mouth closed over a breast. He devoured the breast, his teeth tightening on the nipple, then moved over to give the other one equal attention.

  Parris swallowed back the sobs threatening to spill from her throat. She ran her hands up and down his damp back, feeling the muscles contracting under her fingers. She did gasp when his tongue traced a path downward between her breasts to her ribs and further down to her stomach.

  His hot breath scorched the furred triangle between her thighs and she arched instinctively. Her body squirmed beneath him once his finger found her again, her hips moving erotically on the sheet.

  The temperature of her body alternated between hot and cold. The pleasure Martin wrung from her was pure and unrestrained.

  The dormant sexuality of her body had been awakened and she craved his possession, her desire rising quickly. She groaned in frustration when he left her, but she smiled when she saw him reach into the drawer of the bedside table and withdraw a small packet.

  Breathing heavily, she waited until he withdrew the latex covering and rolled it down the length of his rigid flesh.

  Her breasts tingled against his hair-roughened chest as he moved over her again and positioned his length between her thighs.

  Martin found her opening and pushed gently. He increased the pressure until a small cry from Parris halted him. She was wet enough but he hadn’t thought she would be so tight.

  “Relax, baby,” he crooned. He kissed her mouth, renewing her desire. Her fingers fastened in his long hair, pulling the heavy curls from the confines of its elastic fastening.

  Moving down her body, he kissed her belly, leaving heat as his hot mouth seared her naked flesh. Settling himself at the foot of the king-size bed, he tasted the honey flowing from between her legs.

  Parris gasped in sweet agony, unable to believe the pleasure whirling and spiraling, screaming for release.

  She couldn’t disguise her body’s reaction as his tongue searched where his finger had been and she surrendered to the ecstasy shaking her uncontrollably.

  She was so caught up in the wonder of fulfillment that she barely registered the sharp invasion of her body. Arching, she cried out as Martin again sought entry into her tight flesh.

  Martin went still. She couldn’t be, he thought. She just couldn’t be!

  He withdrew and removed the latex condom. A spurt of desire made him harder, and he wanted her even more.

  His own need for fulfillment matched Parris’s as he pulled back and drove his starving flesh into hers. He felt the resistance give way and seconds later he was lost in the fiery force of vibrating liquid fire, pulling him in where he was helpless to resist the ecstasy hurtling him to another dimension.

  Parris felt the rigid fullness taking up every inch of her body and she responded to the rocking motion of her womb. The involuntary tremors began, taking her higher and higher until she thought she would surely die.

  Her fingernails bit into the firm muscles in his buttocks and she buried her face against his shoulder. Her teeth claimed the flesh below his throat and she cried out shamelessly as she abandoned herself to the sweet burning joy of completion.

  Martin was aware of the moment her body flowered and closed around his sex and he was lost. He exploded, filling her womb with his love and his passion.

  Parris felt his weight, registered his heat and felt the soreness between her thighs, savoring the feeling of satisfaction that left her unable to move. Closing her eyes, she succumbed to the sleep of a sated lover.

  Martin loathe to withdraw from her body. He wanted to lie between her thighs—forever.

  But he did withdraw, his brow furrowed in confusion. Reaching over, he turned on the lamp on the table and stared down at the dark red stains on the sheet and between Parris’s thighs.

  Sitting back on his heels, he shook his head. How could she be? How could Parris be a virgin when she had been married?

  Even though she had lived with Owen Lawson for a month—surely that should have been time for her to share her body with her husband.

  He picked up the unused condom and tossed it on the floor.
Sinking down the bed beside her, he exhaled and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what to think, and again he wanted answers from the woman asleep under his roof.

  The answers would have to wait; wait until she woke up.

  Parris woke, not knowing the time or the day. The vertical blinds were drawn and the bedroom was bathed in a soft pink light. Turning over, she realized she was not in her bedroom.

  She sat up and Martin moved from where he sat in the shadows to stand beside the bed. “What time is it?”

  “Nine-thirty.”

  She saw the direction of his gaze and she pulled the sheet up over her naked breasts. “How long have I been asleep?”

  He took in her heavy lids and the huskier than usual sound of her voice. She was even sexy after making love. “A little bit more than three hours.” Reaching out, he pulled the sheet from her loose grip. “I ran some water for your bath.”

  Parris was forced to let go of the sheet and hold onto his neck as he scooped her from the bed. Burying her face against his strong neck, she kissed him behind the ear.

  Martin stumbled slightly and tightened his grip under her knees. “Don’t do that.” He tried to sound angry, but chuckled when she ran the tip of her tongue around the outline of his ear.

  “You have sexy ears, Martin.” She fastened his curling hair behind his ears. “Why do you wear your hair so long?”

  Studying her face thoughtfully for a moment, he said, “It’s my way of rebelling.”

  “Against who?”

  “Against those who think they know who I am,” Martin answered truthfully. “When it comes to business and finance I can walk the walk and talk the talk with the best of them. But that’s where the similarity ends. When I work a deal everyone at the table knows which is mine because I’ve given it my signature. In other words it is the same but it looks different.”

  A slight frown of confusion appeared between her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  He walked into the bathroom and settled her into a sunken tub of swirling warm water from pulsating jets. Stripping off his jeans, he joined her in the black marble Jacuzzi.

  “You’re a designer. What’s makes your work different from someone else’s?”

  She luxuriated in the healing water, sinking down to a depression along the side of the tub. Moisture beaded quickly on her face and curled her hair.

  “My preference for certain color combinations and fabrics. I’m known for working with light walls, natural woods and mirrors.”

  “These features are your signature, Parris. One of these days I’ll have you read a proposal, then ask you to identify my signature.”

  She watched Martin run a wet hand through his hair, pushing the heavy curls off his forehead. “How will I know which is or isn’t yours?”

  “You’ve lived with me for a month. You should’ve learned something about me in that time.”

  Her expression still registered confusion. Don’t you know that I’m in love with you, Parris? Martin screamed silently to her. Don’t you know that I want to marry you?

  He waded over to her, pulling her against his chest. The warm water heightened the color in her face. Lowering his head, he kissed her tenderly.

  Her legs floated between his and Parris didn’t have to look down to see his rising desire. She felt it against her bare thighs.

  “Put your legs around my waist,” he ordered quietly.

  She complied as he lifted her easily and entered her newly opened flesh. The water warm helped ease the sore muscles she never had to use before.

  Holding onto his neck, she leaned back in Martin’s strong embrace and once again experienced a shimmering moment of uncontrolled passion. Her eager response to his raw sensuousness shocked the both of them as she collapsed against his chest, her breath coming in long, surrendering moans.

  Deep shuddering groans escaped Martin’s parted lips before they faded away when he repeated her name over and over like a litany.

  He recovered enough to retrieve a thick terry wash cloth and a bar of scented soap and lathered her body, taking special care with the area between her legs.

  Parris returned the favor as she lathered his large body, her teasing fingers lingering between his thighs.

  He scooped a handful of water over her hair; she sputtered, then splashed his face. It ended with a passionate kiss that left the both of them breathless.

  Martin stepped out of the tub, extending his hand and pulling her up in one strong motion. He wrapped her in a large thick bath sheet, rubbing her body until her skin glowed and tingled.

  “Remind me not to share a bath with you again,” she murmured. Her hair was soaked and limp strands had escaped the pins she used for her French twist.

  “I thought you enjoyed it.”

  “I enjoyed everything except the dunking.”

  He towel-dried his hair, grinning at her. “Then we’ll repeat everything except the dunking.”

  Martin dropped his towel to the floor and reached for her. Tilting her chin, he made passionate love to her with his eyes. “Parris, why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?”

  Her eyes widened and her breathing halted, then started up again. Her gaze was directed to the base of Martin’s throat where her teeth had left a dark red bruise.

  “You didn’t ask me,” she replied.

  “I assumed you wouldn’t be one because you’d been married.”

  “You assumed wrong.”

  Martin noted the hostility in her voice. “What the hell did Lawson do to you?”

  Parris pulled away from him, taking a backward step. How could she tell Martin that Owen hadn’t been able to make love to her because his addiction made him impotent? She couldn’t tell Martin about Owen’s impotency without breaking her promise to Owen that she would never tell anyone about his addiction if he gave her her freedom.

  “You said that I should let you know what I don’t want and don’t like. I don’t want or like to discuss Owen Lawson.”

  He stiffened as though she had struck him. She had given him back his own words. Nodding slowly, he said, “I’ll respect your request.”

  She gave him a smile, moving closer and curving her arms around his neck. Martin felt the soft crush of her breasts, but they failed to arouse him. He would never mention her ex-husband’s name to her again, but some unspoken voice whispered that the man would turn up again to threaten Parris and drive a wedge between them.

  Chapter 8

  Martin had successfully concealed his anger. He had been in San José for a week, having completed his negotiations with Raul Cordero-Vega, but not without a few concessions. ColeDiz International Ltd. had pledged a million dollars to support the preservation of Costa Rica’s rain forest.

  Interior Minister Raul Cordero-Vega was relentless in his demands. It was as if the retired colonel had taken perverse pleasure in making the heir apparent to ColeDiz International Ltd. wait two days before granting him an audience; then he would not concede to lowering the tariff for exports until Martin threatened to shut down production and withdraw all ColeDiz business dealings from the Central American nation.

  Martin’s call to Samuel Cole elicited a string of colorful expletives from the elder Cole who promised he would make Cordero-Vega pay for his dictatorial demands.

  “A million dollars is nothing compared to what ColeDiz will lose if we halt production before we’re able to set up in Belize,” Martin countered.

  “You’re right, Martin,” Samuel agreed, “but I hate to have Cordero-Vega think he can hold ColeDiz hostage while he exploits us for what we both know is his personal illegal scam. The man’s probably amassing a fortune to raise a private army to overthrow the Costa Rican democratic government.”

  “Whatever his plan for the future let’s hope we’re operating in Belize if he decides to replay this scenario.”

  “Why don’t you see if you can set up an appointment with the Belize officials before you return home.”

  “I’ve confirmed a meeti
ng with their interior department for the end of the month.”

  There was a pause before Samuel Cole replied. “Why wait three weeks, Martin? You’re right there.”

  Martin ran a hand over his face in a gesture which indicated weariness. “I’ll meet with them after I get back. Raul took more than a year to set us up for this ploy and I don’t think he’ll squeeze us again for a while.”

  “I don’t want to wait for him to set us up again,” Samuel argued.

  “I said I’ll finalize everything when I get back,” Martin insisted.

  “Get back from where?”

  “I’m taking a week off.”

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  Martin’s jaw tightened as he closed his eyes. Fatigue, frustration and annoyance swept over him in a rush. Cordero-Vega had manipulated him, his father was pressuring him and he had been away from Parris for more than a week. All he wanted was out of San José and in Parris’s arms on a beach far enough away from Florida and anything which vaguely resembled ColeDiz International Ltd.

  “I’m going on vacation, Father. I’ll have a report of this trip on your desk before I come back.” He depressed a button not permitting Samuel a chance to interrogate him further or offer an apology.

  Punching in several numbers, he dialed the exchange to his home. He counted the four rings before the answering machine was activated. A slight frown creased his forehead. Parris hadn’t answered the call.

  Checking his watch, his frown deepened. It was nearly ten o’clock in Florida and he wondered if perhaps she was asleep or in the bathroom. No, he thought. Even if she had been in the bathroom she would’ve heard the telephone. He had installed telephones in every room in the house.

  Martin lay down on the bed and folded his arms under his head. He wasn’t scheduled to leave San José until early the following morning and he needed to hear Parris’s voice.

  He had convinced her to stay at his house until he returned. She had agreed and he looked forward to his nightly telephone calls with her. Hearing her velvety voice coming through the wire each night dissolved his tension and made him look forward to concluding his business negotiations and returning to her as quickly as possible.