Fever Read Online Free PDF Page A

felt cool as it puffed against her tender flesh.
    He stopped momentarily and cleared his throat. Hard. “I know you’re warm, but maybe we should cover you up.”
    She lashed out at the sheet. She couldn’t bear it. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled his hand until it lay nestled between her aching breasts. His fist tightened, and water rolled across her abdomen. It crept along the crease of her leg and down to the vee between her thighs. Ah, that was what she needed. “There,” she whispered.
    Silence. “You’re killing me here, babe.”
    “Please.” She opened her eyelids enough to see his dark eyes glittering at her. He stared at her for a long moment before his gaze shifted to her breasts. The ache in them intensified as he studied her. She was ready to ask him again—to beg him—when she felt his first touch.
    “Ahhh,” she sighed.
    “So perfect,” he murmured.
    His hand moved in small circles, carefully avoiding her nipple. Her demanding flesh refused to be ignored. She could feel her nipple tightening, stiffening. It looked almost tawdry as it stood straight up in the air, itching for the terrycloth that lurked so nearby. As she watched, his thumb snaked out and rubbed the rough material firmly against the red areola. She arched on the bed and let out a cry.
    He pulled back sharply.
    She caught his wrist. “Don’t stop,” she said breathlessly.
    “I’m not sure about this, Delia.”
    “Don’t stop.”
    She pulled his hand back to her breast and whimpered when his fingers spread round her, capturing her.
    God, she needed this.
    He squeezed, and the heat inside her spiked. She’d been secretly waiting for this for so long. He was touching her. Intimately. Fondling and coaxing. The rush inside her head was dizzying. This . This was what she needed. It was the only thing that was going to ease her distress.
    She let her legs spread apart. “Hot,” she panted. “Burning up.”
    His hand stilled. “Oh, God. Don’t push me.”
    “Help me.”
    He started to pull away. “We can’t do this.”
    She clung to him. “Please.”
    “No. It wouldn’t be right. I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not taking advantage of you.”
    She looked at him beseechingly. He couldn’t stop now. He’d reduced her to a writhing, needy mess. If he left her, she’d be a pile of smoldering ashes by morning.
    “I need it.” She needed it more than her next breath. Needed him. She’d trusted him to fight this battle with her, but if he couldn’t…
    She caught the washcloth. “I’ll do it myself.”
    His head snapped back, and he jerked the washcloth away. “The hell you will.”
    “Please!” she cried as his weight lifted abruptly from the bed. She reached for him, but he stood just out of her reach, looking down at her and breathing heavily. Suddenly, he turned. She propped herself up onto her elbows to watch him as he walked away into the haze.
    He couldn’t leave her like this!
    She heard water running again, and her head dropped back. No. No more. She couldn’t take any more teasing.
    Silence bounced off the walls when he came back to the side of the bed. Water dripped from his hand onto the carpet as she waited in tense anticipation.
    “For me,” she whispered.
    He stood still, almost as if fighting some internal struggle, but then moved fast. She collapsed back against the pillow when his hand dove between her legs and cupped her. Her hips thrust off the bed, half in an attempt to press harder against his touch and half in an effort to shove him away. The washcloth was colder than the others had been. It felt like ice against her tender skin.
    “Is this what you need, hot stuff?”
    She gyrated on the sheets. “Yessss.”
    “And this?”
    His hand began to move. She bit her lip and closed her eyes so tightly, stars danced behind her eyelids.
    “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he said in a strained voice. He found his place at her side. “You better not regret this.”
    She