Forbidden by Susan Johnson (good books to read for teens .TXT) 📕

categorically abhorred the word as an incongruous feeling in an imperfect world. Yet he was experiencing ecstasy because an outspoken, lush woman whom he scarcely knew was impaled on his erection, clinging to him with a strength he found surprising.

He deliberately moved in her, thinking sensibly that the novel, disturbing sensation would disappear to be replaced by more familiar feelings of pleasure. But when he moved, she moved also, he up and she down and he felt his brain lift away from his head. His hands automatically clamped hard on her hips and pressed downward because any experienced devotee of gratification such as he had automatic reflexes to sustain sensation. And his eyes shut too and he felt exactly as she did. As though they were floating alone in the world.

She moved a few moments later and then he did and shortly her languorous eyes opened and much later his and they smiled at each other as though they were the last two people on earth.

When he climaxed at last, she joined him and he felt as though he were fifteen again and joyously alive.

She caught herself just in time; she almost said, "I love you," but stifled the words before she uttered the ultimate incivility to the man all of Paris understood did not believe, in love.

They made love next with her seated on the balcony rail, tightly held so she didn't fall into the river below. But when he lifted her down from the railing some time later and pressed her back against the cool stone cottage wall, his hands beginning their practiced arousal for the third time, she said "Are you avoiding the bed?"

His gaze lifted to look at her and uncertain how to respond, he hesitated. He probably was, he thought.

No woman had ever slept in his bed.

"Just asking," Daisy casually said, reading his nonresponse, not impelled by any great need to infringe on his territory. The pleasure he was giving her was quite generous enough.

"It's only a bed," he said resolutely, his solitude repudiated more easily than he anticipated. Taking her hand, he moved toward the door.

"Are you sure? It's not necessary."

"I'm rarely sure of anything except my polo ponies' competence. That's about the only certainty I rely on."

"So cynical, Monsieur le Duc," Daisy teased, laughter in her eyes, her lush body moving beside his as though they were irrevocably mated, companions from some time long past.

"Consider yourself fortunate, Mademoiselle," he lazily drawled, "to have eluded the sensation."

"Replaced today though—am I right?—with more joyous feeling. And I like your bed." It was very large, austere, plainly constructed in pale birch.

She had a frankness he found refreshing, more—renewing, as though she could disarm the black demons impoverishing his soul. And unlike most women, she knew when to discontinue her occasional tendency toward introspection. "Yes," he said, "I like my bed. Could I interest you in a closer look?" His grin was deliberately wolfish, making Daisy laugh out loud in pleasure.

"You're much too handsome for your own good," she chastised, pulling her hand from his in mock disapproval. He was physical perfection of an unparalleled degree. The kind that made other men resigned and women believe God had truly answered their prayers.

"You, Mademoiselle, are hardly in a position to remonstrate. The entire world no doubt has been at your feet from the cradle."

"Would you care to join them?" She was teasing but testing her powers too in a feminine display of vanity.

She was too perfect, he thought, as she stood provocatively nude before him, too exotic, too tempting, too assured of her extravagant beauty. "Perhaps some other time," he politely declined, his gaze having shuttered slightly, the familiar sardonic half-lidded gaze of the Duc de Vec once again regarding her.

"I see there have been too many importuning women," Daisy perceptively said. "Forgive me. I said it only in fun."

His relief was not immediately apparent. He'd been asked for much, she decided. Predictable but a shame—and perhaps been given too little. "Would you like me to genuflect to you? I'm completely without pride." A startling statement from Hazard Black's daughter, a woman the world regarded without exception as prideful.

"No."

He was uncomfortable, she could see, as if too many dissatisfying memories were recalled. "If you don't smile, I'll never fuck you again."

Her astonishing declaration brought a smile. "Never say I'm a fool," he pleasantly replied.

"I've three brothers," she said as though in explanation of her crudity.

"How nice," he casually responded. He required no explanation; he hadn't been shocked by anything in years. "And now since I've smiled, I think we're ready for your gracious offer." Playfully tumbling her onto his bed with a small nudge, he followed her down onto the quilted cotton bedcover, his body lightly pinning hers beneath his, his hands gently framing her face. The sun had moved across the sky, the lengthening shadows of late afternoon casting the room in a soft golden glow. Daisy lay against the white coverlet, her dark hair spread in silky disarray, the enchantment she was feeling evident in her large eyes, her soft mouth delicious with temptation. Her golden skin was so silken and fine he thought of sentimentally romantic phrases like "smooth as monumental alabaster, beauty unadorned" and the warmth of her body beneath his was lushly hot like the evening air at the Pyramids. Another seriously romantic analogy, he thought with mild amazement—he was treading on unfamiliar ground. Uncomfortable with the feeling, he bent to kiss her because he knew the sensations of physical lust so much better.

His mouth touching hers was all the dreams young girls dream, possessive and gently demanding, moving across the softness of her lips with enough pressure so she felt an answering heat spread like molten gold deep inside her. Daisy kissed him back like a young girl might, offering everything to him, reaching up and clinging to him, wanting him never to leave her. But she wasn't a young girl, and he was the least available man in the world, so