Wildest Hearts

control.

    Annie almost swore in frustration even though she had never been so physically satisfied in her entire life. But at that moment he sheathed himself completely within her, filling her to the core. Annie was flooded with sensation once more. Incredibly, her weary body could still respond.

    “So tight,” Oliver whispered. His forehead rested on hers as he waited for her body to accommodate itself to him. “You fit me like a glove, Annie.”

    He pulled out slightly and then pushed slowly back into her. Annie shuddered. Her body clenched around his.

    “That feels so good.” Oliver's voice was tight and thick.

    Annie dug her nails into his shoulders. Then she lifted herself cautiously, testing the length and breadth of him. He seemed huge inside her. The weight of him was crushing her into the sheets.

    Oliver gritted his teeth. “Yes. Just like that. God, yes.” He reached down between their bodies and found the sensitive place in the nest of curls above her legs. Annie shrieked softly.

    He waited until she had almost finished convulsing around him. Then and only then, did he finally allow himself to savor his own release.

    Annie was so exhausted she fell asleep before he eased himself out of her body. Her last thought was that this situation would not do at all. Oliver needed to learn there was such a thing as too much self-control. She did not know how many nights of this she could take.

    Annie awoke later to a moonlit room. For a moment she was disoriented. A feeling of unreality held her in thrall causing her to wonder briefly if she was caught up in a dream. Then she became aware of the weight of Oliver's arm across her breasts. The fiery memories came back in a rush.

    She turned her head on the pillow and saw that Oliver was asleep beside her. The pale light from the window illuminated the planes and angles of his harsh features. Somewhere along the line his midnight dark hair had come free of the band that he used to tie it back. It spilled across the elegant pillow giving him a primitive, untamed look. She had gone to bed with a pagan.

    Annie lay very still, recalling her first sight of his nude body during the night. The power in him was physical as well as mental. He was a strong, lean, well-built man who had not allowed himself to soften. The coordinated masculine grace she had always admired in him was infinitely more impressive when he had his clothes off.

    Annie sat up slowly amid the gray sheets and looked around the room. She had peeked into the master bedroom suite once when she had moved into the penthouse, but she had never actually been inside it. An invisible gate had barred the way until now. She suspected few women would have had the nerve to walk into this most private and personal of rooms without an invitation.

    The bedroom was filled with deep shadows. A black lacquer chest of drawers stood against one wall. Next to it was a severely styled gray metal chair. The soft light from the moon picked out the gold threads in the austere, abstract design embroidered on the black quilt.

    Restlessly Annie slipped out from beneath the weight of Oliver's arm, pushed aside the tangled sheets, and got out of bed. She felt vulnerable as well as cold so she picked up the first article of clothing she came across. It was the shirt Oliver had worn earlier. She put it on and went to the window.

    The neon lights of the Seattle waterfront glittered far below. When she looked out over Elliott Bay, however, she could see nothing but an endless sea of night.

    “What are you doing, Annie?”

    She jumped at the sound of Oliver's low voice. She glanced quickly back over her shoulder. He was watching her from the shadows of the bed, his eyes reflecting the cold moonlight. He sprawled across the rumpled pillows with the natural arrogance of a jungle cat. His dark, tangled mane drifted across his sleek, muscled shoulders.

    “I thought you were asleep,” she whispered.

    “I felt you leave the bed. Is anything wrong?” There was genuine concern in his voice.

    “No. There's nothing wrong.” He was a good man, she thought. But he definitely had some problems. “I just got out of bed to look at the view.”

    “The view is very nice from here,” Oliver said, his tone darkening with lazy sensuality.

    Annie could feel his eyes on her. She pulled his shirt a little more snugly around herself. “Oliver?”

    “Yes?”

    Annie couldn't think of what to say next. She had no idea of how to