Only 04 - Only Love

swiftly around Whip as Shannon give back the deep kiss. His hands went from her shoulders to her thighs in long, slow sweeps. Fingers widespread, he measured the feminine elegance of her back, the lush flare of her hips, the siren call of her breasts pressed more closely against his chest with each stroke of his hands.
    When Whip could deny himself no longer, he allowed his hands to slide along Shannon’s ribs until his thumbs met at the bottom of her breastbone.Without warning his hands shifted, cupping soft, taut flesh.
    A threadlike groan was dragged from Whip when he discovered that Shannon was even more womanly beneath her men’s clothes than he had guessed. Her softness filled his hands.
    Probing, caressing, his thumbs circled Shannon’s sensitive nipples. They blossomed in a rush that sent a fierce answering fire through Whip. Delicately he caught the tips of her breasts between his fingers and squeezed.
    Shannon made a high sound of surprise as desire splintered through her, tightening her body, arching it against him in a wild caress. Her nipples had been transformed by Whip’s touch. Now they were hard peaks that stood out proudly against her old flannel shirt, begging for Whip’s hands, his mouth, his passion.
    “Honey girl,” he groaned. “You could set fire to stone, and I’m one hell of a long way from stone.”
    Before Shannon could answer, Whip took her mouth again. His tongue shot between her teeth as his hands slid down to her hips, lifting her, fitting the soft nest above her thighs to the rigid male flesh she had called from his body. He rocked her sensuously against his arousal while his tongue mated with hers in a fierce, elemental rhythm.
    Wild pleasure streaked through Shannon, shaking her. She couldn’t get her breath because she was holding on to Whip too hard. He was holding her even harder in turn, but she still couldn’t get close enough to him. She was dizzy for lack of air, yet she pressed even more violently against Whip’s mouth, needing the deep kiss in a way she didn’t understand.
    And then he dragged her hips against his rigid flesh.
    A ragged moan was torn from Shannon’s throat. The sound could have been pain or fear or passion, or all three together.
    Abruptly Whip realized that he was devouring Shannon’s mouth, crushing her to his body with both arms and grinding his hips against her as though he would have her here, now, standing up like a whore in an alley.
    Shuddering, Whip tore his mouth from Shannon’s and loosened his arms. He let her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor.
    She made a questioning sound and touched her lips with fingers that jerked slightly with each quick breath she took.
    Unhappily Whip looked at Shannon’s face. Against the bloody marks left by his savaged hands, her skin looked pale. Her eyes were dilated and her lips were soft, trembling, parted as she dragged raggedly at air. She swayed until she reached out blindly and steadied herself against the wall.
    “Are you all right?” Whip asked.
    He wanted to be gentle, but the question came out rough. His voice was harsh with the blood that was still pumping fiercely through his body.
    “I feel—” Shannon’s breath broke. “Dizzy. Crazy. I can’t breathe and I’m shaking like I’m cold but parts of me are on fire and I’m burning and I want—I want—oh, God, I don’t know what I want! What did you do to me, Whip?”
    For a long moment Whip looked at Shannon, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.
    “How long have you been married?” he asked finally.
    “What does that—have to do with—how I feel?”
    The breaking of Shannon’s breath acted on Whip like tongues of fire licking over his aroused flesh, making him ache until he had to clench his teeth against a groan.
    “It has everything to do with it,” Whip said thickly. “What you’re feeling is passion, honey girl. Pure and wild and hotter than hell.”
    “I don’t—understand.”
    Whip made a sound that could have been a curse or a prayer or both at once.
    “Your husband wasn’t much of a man to cozy up with on a cold night, was he?” Whip said between his teeth.
    “Silent John wasn’t—that is, he isn’t —a warm man.”
    “Are you telling me that you haven’t ever felt sexual desire like this before?”
    “This?” Shannon drew a ragged breath and looked at Whip with burning blue eyes. “This is desire?”
    “Son of a bitch,” Whip whispered, shocked. “You mean it,