Trust Me

soft breast. Desdemona was shocked to the core by the desire that lanced through her.
    “Stark.” She clung to him as he kissed her throat. “This isn’t what I meant.”
    “It’s okay. It’s clean. I saw that new guy on your staff wipe it off earlier.”
    “Yes, I know, but – “ She broke off when he put his hands on her upper thighs. Her skin burned beneath the fine fabric of her dress. “Oh, my God.”
    He bit her ear with exquisite care. Desdemona shivered. Then his hand was under the edge of her dress, moving higher. He cupped her for a few seconds. She tightened her legs around him. His thighs were as hard as stone.
    “I like that,” he said. He seized a fistful of her hair and buried his face in it. “And I like this, too. You smell good.”
    The raw sensuality in his voice did strange and dangerous things to Desdemona. She heard something clatter on the kitchen floor. One of her black shoes had come off.
    He pushed her backward until she was lying on top of the island, her legs dangling over the edge.
    He leaned over her, pinning her to the wooden surface. His mouth sought the curve of her throat once more. His heavily aroused body was pressed against her. She could feel the hard, unyielding shape of his manhood. He stroked the crotch of her panties.
    “You’re soaking wet.” He sounded dazed with wonder.
    She was excruciatingly aware that he was right. For some reason the evidence of her own arousal brought back a measure of reality. “Stark, please. This has gone far enough.”
    He raised his head and looked down at her with glittering eyes. “What?”
    “This is – “ She levered herself up on one elbow and pushed hair out of her eyes. “This is all happening much too fast.”
    “Sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll slow down if that’s what you want. We’ve got all night.”
    “Wait.” She braced one hand against his massive shoulder. “I mean we’re really going too fast. For heaven’s sake, Stark, one month ago you were on the verge of marrying another woman.”
    Confusion flared in his intent gaze. “But I didn’t marry anyone else. There’s nothing to stop me from making love to you tonight.”
    “Yes, I know, but that’s not quite the point I’m trying to make. Let’s look at the motivation for this, uh, incident.”
    “Incident?”
    “We have to try to understand what’s really happening here. Now, then, you were recently traumatized by the rejection you received at the hands of your fiancee.”
    “Ex-fiancee,” he said grimly.
    “Whatever. I suspect you were also very angry, too. Perfectly natural.”
    “You think so?” His voice turned unnaturally soft.
    “Of course.” Desdemona struggled to a sitting position. Stark did not move from between her splayed thighs. “That sort of thing is very hard on the ego.”
    “Are you going to turn this into a counseling session?” he demanded in disbelief.
    “I told you, I think we should take a close look at your motivations here.”
    “Forget it. There is nothing complicated about my motivations.”
    She ignored that. “I’m afraid that what actually made you want to kiss me tonight was a need to prove that you can still make a woman respond to you.”
    He eyed her with a brooding stare. “You do want me, don’t you? I didn’t get that part wrong, did I?”
    “That’s got nothing to do with this,” she assured him.
    “My mistake,” he said roughly. “I thought maybe the fact that your panties are soaking wet had something to do with this incident.”
    She felt herself turn scarlet. “Stark, for goodness’ sake.”
    “You think I’m making love to you on a countertop here in the kitchen because I’m trying to prove to myself that I’m not completely washed up as a man?”
    “I never implied that you were washed up or that you had to prove anything. I’m just not sure that you’re doing this for the right reasons.”
    “I don’t believe this. You want me and I want you. We’re mature, consenting adults. Neither of us is involved with anyone else. What better reasons could there be?”
    Desdemona reached the end of her tether. “Never mind. If you can’t figure that out for yourself, I’m not going to waste my time explaining it to you. Will you kindly let me off this table?”
    “Damn it, I really hate that,” Stark said.
    “Hate what?”
    “I hate it when a woman avoids a direct answer to a simple, straightforward question and then gets mad about the question.”
    “Tough.