Wildest Hearts

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    Annie moaned as he stretched her slowly, opening her completely to his touch. A strange, pulsing tension was building within her. She wrapped her arms around Oliver, clinging to him, trying to bring him closer. His fingers moved on her, finding just the right place.

    “Oliver. My God, please.”

    “Let me see you fly, Annie. You're safe. I'm here to catch you.”

    Something exploded inside her. The tension that had gripped her so tightly a moment earlier suddenly found its release in an exquisite explosion of sensation. Her body convulsed around his probing fingers. And then the ripples of pleasure began.

    She heard herself whispering Oliver's name over and over again in a breathless voice she hardly recognized as her own.

    A moment later she went limp in his arms. Oliver held her as she coiled languorously against him. His hand traced the length of her spine in a soothing, gentling movement.

    “Beautiful.” Oliver kissed her shoulder. “Spectacular. But, then, I knew from the start that you would be one of a kind.”

    She looked up at him through heavy, drooping lashes. “That was amazing. Absolutely amazing.”

    His smile was one of satisfaction, as if he had found his own release. “I'm glad.”

    “I have never felt anything like that before in my life. Nothing has ever been like that.”

    “Good.”

    Maybe it had been so special because she knew she was in love, Annie thought in dreamy wonder. That realization brought another in its wake.

    Annie looked up at Oliver in consternation. “You haven't even gotten undressed.”

    “There's plenty of time.” He kissed her damp forehead. “All night, in fact.”

    “Yes, I know.” Her voice trailed off.

    Something was wrong. She could feel it. She searched Oliver's face in the shadows. His eyes still burned with the desire she had seen in him earlier. She could feel the sexual rigidity of his body. He was fully aroused. She could also feel the iron-willed control he was exerting over himself.

    It was then she realized just what was bothering her. From the moment she had told Oliver that she wanted to go to bed with him, he had taken charge. Everything that had just happened had been carefully orchestrated by him. He had controlled the passionate interlude just as he controlled everything and everyone in his life.

    “Don't you want me?” Annie whispered.

    “More than you can possibly guess. And I'm going to have you when the time is right.”

    “I thought the time was right,” she muttered.

    “Soon.” Oliver got to his feet, reached down, and scooped her up into his arms.

    Annie clung to him, still boneless from the aftereffects of her climax. A small chill went through her, washing away some of the lingering warmth. It was clear that as much as Oliver seemed to desire her, he had no intention of allowing himself to be at the mercy of his own passion.

    Or hers.

    It occurred to Annie that Oliver was determined to prove to himself and to her that he was in complete control. Apparently he would not allow himself to surrender to anything, not even pleasure.

    A glint of green near the rock garden caught Annie's attention as Oliver strode toward the door with her in his arms. She glanced down and saw the emerald-eyed leopard watching her as she was carried off into the night.

    A long while later, after the pale gray sheets of Oliver's bed were damp and twisted from the mind-shattering lovemaking that he had visited upon her, Oliver finally claimed his exhausted bride.

    He loomed over her, his shoulders and the sleek contours of his back glistening in the moonlight. His control had cost him something, Annie realized when she saw the sheen of sweat on him. At least it hadn't been easy for him.

    The bottom line, however, was that after three hours of passion, Oliver was still in complete command of himself. It was profoundly depressing to know that she did not have the same effect on his senses that he had on hers. He wanted her, but he wanted her on his terms, his way, and in his own good time.

    “Look at me.” Oliver brushed his lips across her forehead. “I want to see your eyes when I make you mine.”

    Annie obeyed, too tired now to argue. Her gaze met his and she nearly dissolved completely beneath the searing heat she saw in his eyes. He thrust himself into her with a slow, tender, very calculated movement of his body. She realized that even in this final act of consummation he had to prove he was still in