Page 28 of Conail (Members From Money Season 2, #150)

When she remained silent, he exited the vehicle and came around to open her door.

Taking her hand, he linked their fingers as he guided her to the towering glass doors.

Without letting go of her hand, he punched in a series of codes before ushering her inside.

Warmth enveloped her immediately, the wide foyer one of elegance.

His mother's apartment was impressive, but this was a work of art.

Wide sweeping stairs with polished wood gleaming in the lights from the chandelier cascading from a high arched ceiling was the first impression.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked politely as he let go of her hand.

"No, I'm fine." She wandered over to an open doorway that was obviously the living room.

It was papered in pale gold silk with expensive artworks dotting the walls.

A grand piano was in a place of prominence beneath a floor-to-ceiling window that offered a view of dense trees and brushes. "Do you play?"

"A little." He stood there watching as she wandered around the room, touching crystals and treasures he had picked up on his travels.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Her delighted comment had him crossing to her as she stood in front of a painting with an explosion of bold colors.

"You're a Colby fan."

"I most definitely am." She started to lift a hand to touch the canvas but dropped it before making contact.

"I won't charge you for touching."

"It's like watching a kaleidoscope of colors pulsing together for supremacy. I really like his style of painting."

"Have you ever met him?"

She shook her head as she continued to study the painting.

"Would you like to?" he heard himself asking.

She turned around and felt a shimmer of heat as she stared at him.

"Very much."

"That can be arranged." He had to touch her. He could not go one second without giving into the urge to do so. Indulging himself, he toyed with the large gold hoop at her left ear.

"Conail--"

"I don't know what's happening to me, but I need you." His eyes met hers, a smoky gray that held secrets.

Yasmine felt herself trembling.

"Have me."

The two simple words set off an explosion that rocked his world. Moving in, he cupped the back of her head and ravished her mouth.

His body shuddered as she opened her mouth and gave him access.

Yasmine's hands crept up around his neck, her body molding against his as the kiss spun her out of control.

She felt as if she was drowning. Liquid fire ate at her insides and melted her very bones.

She did not care about anything else except his arms around her, his long lean body against hers and his mouth driving her to utter madness.

Conail felt the shudders wracking him as he delved into the honeyed sweetness of her mouth. His hands wandered restlessly down her back and up again. He could not stop touching her. Her sweetness was so addictive, he felt as if he was being slowly drawn inside her and making his home there.

He did not want to stop, could not stop.

His fingers kneaded the back of her neck before tangling in her short curls.

Her nipples were branding his chest, and he was amazed he could feel it even through the thick sweater he was wearing.

His body was so hot, he was surprised it did not melt the clothing away.

Dragging his mouth from hers, he trailed desperate kisses along her cheek and the sides of her lips, before heading to her neck and then her throat.

Her scent was intoxicating, filling every crevice and corner of his senses.

The need to have her was so great that he was on the verge of dragging her to the floor when he realized what he had been about to do.

Fighting the madness that had started to invade him, he stepped back, his eyes swirling, his chest heaving.

"Upstairs," he whispered harshly, fingers biting into her arms. "Now."

Taking her hand, he guided her out of the room and up the long, spiral staircase, cursing the time it took for them to reach the top.

By the time they reached the double oak doors, Yasmine was shaking with emotions.

Her first impression was a sitting room with comfortable tan sofas and an area Indian rug, before he whisked her into a bedroom that was easily four times her entire suite at the farmhouse.

The ceiling was high and arched, coming to a point in the middle.

The bed was on a dais and could easily sleep a dozen people comfortably.

Instead of carpet, the wooden floor shone dully from the lights streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Turning her to face him, he cupped her face between hands that were not quite steady.

"Desire for you is eating away at my insides," he admitted hoarsely. "I cannot stop thinking about you. I don't know what the hell to do."

"Want me to give you a suggestion?" she asked huskily.

"No," he laughed a little harshly. "It's something I have to figure out for myself. You're spending the night."

"Conail--"

"You're staying." His arrogant tone had her lifting a brow.

"I need you."

He felt his bones liquefying at the simple statement. It was said in all honesty, no guiles -- not an ounce of coyness, no effort to try and get him to persuade her. He was not used to such honesty, and it broke away the edge of cynicism that he had placed over his heart.

"Yasmine." He whispered her name like an entreaty and had her moving towards him.

"I'm going to hurt you. I cannot help it. This monstrous need for you--" Breaking off, he took her hand and led her to the bed. Taking his time, he carefully guided her up the steps. He was determined to take it slow, even if it killed him and it might very well do so.

He kissed her forehead, the tenderness bringing tears to her eyes. When he kissed her eyes closed, she reached for him, but he evaded her hands.

"Not yet. If you touch me it will be all over." Pulling her hands to her sides, he trailed his fingers down her neck, until he was peeling off the shoulders of her dress.

Murmuring deep in his throat, he pushed the soft material down and waited until she stepped out of it before tackling her bra.

His eyes flew to her face when she gasped.

"What is it?"

"My nipples." She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.

"Sensitive?"

She nodded, her head arching as he ran his thumbs over the rigid flesh.

"Conail." His name was a whisper coming from her lips.

"Soon." He pushed her down on the bed gently and knelt to take off her boots. Putting them to the side, he ran his hands up and down the silky stockings she had on before taking them off.

Yasmine had to bite back the sob as he continued to massage her calves. Going on his knees, he caressed her thighs, his eyes on her face. He had to fight the urge to just take her.

Rising, he made short work of stripping off his clothes.

She felt the pleasure wash over her as she stared at his lean body.

His chest was heavy with muscles and his stomach washboard flat.

Her eyes boldly swept his full sex and she felt the excitement thrumming inside her.

She could not wait to get him inside her.

But he had other plans. Lifting her legs, he placed them on the bed and had her scooting up against the mound of pillows.

"Don't move," he instructed. Starting from her lips which he brushed gently, he continued down to her neck and throat. All the while his fingers were splayed possessively on her belly.

When he reached her breasts, she was already vibrating with need.

He suckled gently, one hand drifting down to cup her sex. As soon as he pressed his palm down, she climaxed, tearing sobs echoing around the room as the white-hot fever shot through her body.

She had hardly drifted back down when he was tormenting her again.

He kissed her stomach, open-mouthed kisses that left a trail of moisture in their wake.

Her eyes popped wide open when he parted her thighs and used his tongue and teeth to send her into a wild and ferocious storm that had her crying out his name.

She reached for him blindly as he came alongside her. His body was throbbing, one long ache that was spiraling out of control. Crushing her mouth, he swallowed her cries, his hand splayed over her stomach.

Sliding beneath her, he lifted her hips so that she was suspended over him. Gray-green eyes swirled with emotions, his hands trembling as he lowered her slowly so that she could sheath him.

A groan escaped him, and he felt as if the top of his head was about to explode.

His hands drifted to her full breasts as she started to ride him.

He was fighting to slow things down, but it was too late.

As soon as she started moving it was all over.

He watched through narrowed eyes as she arched her back, fingers curling into the hairs on his chest.

Lifting his head, he seized a nipple and suckled hungrily. Her body splintered, the pleasure so intense, she was sure she would never live to see another minute. Driving into her, Conail felt his own body gathering strength and without warning, he was following helplessly behind her.

His body shuddered as if it had been hit by a massive earthquake. His heart was pounding so hard, it was drowning out everything else. His flesh was coated with a fine sheen of moisture. When she collapsed on top of him, he held her with gentle hands, his senses overflowing.

In stunned disbelief, he continued to hold her, feeling the wild beating of her heart against his chest. Or was it his? he wondered hazily.

When she stirred as if to slide off him, he tightened his hold and kept her there. He could have held the position for days, months even.

Her face was buried against his neck, and he could feel her breath on his skin. Very soon, he knew he was going to have her again and there was nothing he could do about it.