Two Passionate Proposals Read Online Free PDF Page B

the
ceiling, fuming with humiliation.
    Her breath coming more quickly now, Imogen
began to pull down his zipper. She could already feel him hard beneath her hand
and was unable to quell a surge of relief so strong that tears welled in her
eyes. He still wanted her, still desired her, in spite of everything that had
happened.
    He opened his mouth to say something,
looked at the strip of vine hovering above him, and obviously thought better of
it because he tightened his jaw. His eyes met hers. They were pools of molten
mercury, and she inhaled as, in spite of her perilous situation, desire swept
through her. She caught his gaze and held it as she slid his underwear down,
releasing him.
    Hawke’s gaze returned to the ceiling. He
looked furious, and embarrassed at being aroused by what she was doing. Imogen
felt a surge of pleasure. Part of her wanted to make him suffer for turning on
her, for believing she’d gone over to Chaos. She didn’t have long before the
other S.U. soldiers found them. But she wanted to torture him—just a little
bit.
    Lowering her head, she ran her tongue
lightly up his erection, and he rewarded her with a sharp intake of breath.
When she reached the tip, she enclosed him in her mouth.
    “Oh for fuck’s sake . . . .” His strained
whisper trailed off as she began to move her mouth up and down. The muscles in
his legs tensed under her, and when she glanced up at him, he was looking up,
holding his breath.
    Pleasure washed over her, and she sighed,
taking him deeper into her mouth. She could feel the heat building inside him.
She wanted to drive him wild—not too wild, obviously, as that would defeat the
object of the exercise—but wild enough, until he was begging her to sit astride
him and bring them both to release.
    Suddenly, she had a flash of memory of his
room back in England and the first time she’d done this, exploring his body
with her hands and mouth, wanting to drive him as mad with desire as he had
her. Regret knifed through her, and she stopped kissing him, lifted her head to
look up at him. His eyes were closed now, his breathing shallow.
    She moved slowly up him, brushing her
breasts against his chest, until her face was level with his.
    Hawke opened his eyes, and they weren’t
filled with hate; they were warm with love and passion, and Imogen’s own eyes
filled with tears.
    She pushed herself upright, her hand coming
up to cover her mouth. “Oh, Goddess.” She slid off him, sitting on the side of
the bed, and covered her face with her hands. “What am I doing?” Tears streamed
down her face.
    Silence hung between them for a moment.
    “Imogen,” Hawke said finally, his voice
soft.
    Without turning, she traced a pattern in
the air with her hands, and the vines slowly receded from his body.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I surrender,
Major. Do with me what you will.”
    *
    Hawke gasped as the vines withdrew, and his
body was released. He lowered his arms, flexing the stiff muscles, circling his
wrists. Now she stops? He cursed under his breath, glaring at his
erection, then looked across at Imogen, at her white, slender body. She made no
sound, but her shoulders quivered, and he knew she was crying.
    He sat up, wincing and tucking himself back
into his pants as he did so. Her hair had fallen forward, revealing the back of
her slim, white neck. She looked so extremely fragile. He’d dreamed of placing
a thick, metal band around it and tightening it until she stopped breathing, of
doing a hundred terrible things to end her life. He’d thought he hated her, but
now he knew he’d mistaken hatred for hurt and frustration.
    Until that moment, he hadn’t been sure what
he’d do if she released him.
    Now, he moved beside her and, turning her
gently, wrapped her in his arms.
    Imogen sat stiffly for a moment, then, like
ice cream left on a radiator, she melted against him. He cradled her, worried
about her shoulder, her tears soaking into his shirt.
    Pushing her back onto