A Promise of Thunder

it. A lot can be said for sexual gratification.”
    He lowered his head and tasted the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat, sliding slowly, tantalizingly upward to brush a lingering kiss against her lips. Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed into her eyes. “The choice is yours, sweetheart. Will we marry or do you need more persuasion?”
    Storm’s thoughts scattered like leaves before the wind. With Grady’s hard body in intimate contact with hers, coherent speech was impossible. Grady chuckled indulgently as he nuzzled her ear. She smelled so good. The scent she used to rinse her hair lingered like the odor of dried crushed flowers after their summer blossoms were gone. And she tasted just as sweet, Grady thought as he placed gentle, nibbling kisses along her cheekbone.
    Then, sudden, urgent need made the game seem like innocent child’s play. He was nolonger satisfied to merely kiss and taste; he wanted more, much more. Through the confusion of her thoughts, Storm knew the exact moment Grady’s teasing kisses turned into raw, grinding need. His hands grew bold, seeking her breasts, kneading the tender mounds and massaging her nipples through the material of her dress. When they tired of that sport they drifted downward over her hips to grasp her buttocks, pulling her against the swollen hardness of his groin. Storm gasped and squirmed, trying to escape. She realized her mistake too late.
    “Oh, lady, you do know how to drive a man crazy.”
    “No, I didn’t mean—You must let me go. I don’t want this. I want—”
    “I know exactly what you want, lady, and I’m going to give it to you. When we marry you can have it every day.”
    “Marrying you would be sheer madness,” Storm managed to say between the kisses he was pressing against her lips.
    With practiced ease her coat was stripped from her and tossed to the floor. When his nimble fingers undid the fastenings on the front of her dress, loosened the strings of her corset and stroked her naked breasts, Storm began to tremble. “Your body doesn’t lie,” Grady said with a note of triumph when her nipples tautened beneath his caresses. Then his mouth closed over a rosy peak and suckled roughly. Storm jerked convulsively, the hot warmth of his mouth creating a sweet melting inside her.
    Storm wanted to cry out in protest, wanted to make Grady stop. She knew from her past experience with the magnificent savage that his loving was too soul-destroying, too intense for it to be lasting. Lust, pure and simple. When the unaccountable attraction between them cooled nothing would remain. Grady didn’t love her; he felt pity and a certain responsibility for her—and he needed a mother for his son.
    “No!”
    “Yes.”
    He eased her down on the makeshift bed of furs and blankets and sat back on his haunches, staring at her through narrowed lids. The fire in the hearth was blazing brightly; the room had grown quite warm, but it paled in comparison to the white-hot flame devouring Grady.
    He slid her dress over her shoulders and down her arms. The corset quickly followed, then her shift. “Never will I understand why white women wear so many clothes,” Grady said as he slid the stockings down her legs and removed her shoes. “Indian women are too practical to force their bodies into instruments of torture.”
    “I’m not an Indian,” Storm managed to say.
    “No, you’re not. Your skin is too soft and pale.”
    A thick brown finger stretched out to draw a shaky line down one breast to its pink nipple. Gently, his hand outlined the circle of her breast. The gentle massage sent currents ofelectricity through her body. Broadening his scope, his hands slid over her silken belly to her thighs, spreading and lifting them to press moist kisses on the smooth insides. Then his mouth grew bold, sliding upward to nuzzle the nest of blonde curls nestled between her legs. When his tongue darted into the moist crevice of her womanhood Storm cried out in dismay.
    “You can’t! No, please!”
    Grady lifted his head. “Did your husband never love you in this manner?”
    “Buddy would never do such a perverted thing like that. It isn’t right. It isn’t … Oh …”
    Ignoring her protest, Grady lowered his head, grasping her hips and holding her in place while he continued pressing warm, wet kisses on that most intimate part of her. Though every nerve in her body fought against this ultimate intimacy, Storm arched against his caress, seeking more of