Dee Ann Palmer
It was Rafael who stopped.
Her eyes flew open.
"Do you want me, Jenny?"
She stared at him. Did she want him? She ached for release. Her heart raced because she wanted him so much.
"Say it, Jenny, tell me you want this." One hand moved to stroke a nipple, the other moved to massage the tiny spot that would bring her once more to the mountain top."Say it, Jenny."
The tumult was rising again under the stroking fingers, and all she had to do was ask. But she remembered the name he had cried in the night, and her mind told her that this was not what she wanted. For herself or for him. She had saved his life, but when she had made herself vulnerable in that exotic moment of loving him, it was another woman's name he had called out. Did she want him? God knew, she did. But not just for sex. Having been married to one man, engaged to another, she'd learned that this act was only part of a relationship between a man and a woman. Rafael didn't love her, would never marry her, and sex fell far short of all that she wanted from him. Wanted for him.
Her voice shook, but she knew what her response had to be. If there was anything that could be said of this man, it was that he was a man of honor. She counted on that as she spoke. "Stop. Please stop."
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