“I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he murmured against her lips.

“Is it all you want to do?” she challenged, her mood reckless.

“Hell no, that’s not all… Take off your clothes for me,” he ordered.

“I shall need help with my gown.”

He obliged, making short work of the task, letting the elegant creation fall to the floor in a whisper of silk. But he merely watched as she finished undressing. Shoes and stockings went, followed by camisole and corset and lacy underdrawers. Finally Heather stood only in her chemise and the pearl choker.

“Now your hair,” Sloan said, watching her through narrowed eyes.

She pulled out the pins one by one with unsteady fingers, tossing them on the dressing table. Then she shook her head till her long, golden hair swirled about her shoulders.

She smiled then, and Sloan damned near stopped breathing. With that seductive smile, so sensual and lovely, Heather was pure temptress. His dream lover in the flesh.

Possessiveness surged inside him, and for once he didn’t try to fight or deny it. He felt wild. He wanted to take her hard and fast… no, he wanted to draw out the moment till they were both crazy with need.

He wanted to make love to her slowly, kissing every hollow and pulse. He wanted to tangle his fingers in that cloud of pale hair and savor the taste of her silken skin. He wanted to see those tresses spread across his pillow as Heather lay waiting for him, her lush graceful body bare, her eyes filled with passion….

A deep ache settled in his loins. He intended to make her pay for teasing him so.

Rapidly he stripped off his coat and tie and shirt. When he was naked to the waist, he moved toward her purposefully, the image of virile strength, his bare torso strongly muscled, his bronzed arms hard with sinew. His potent energy was so strong, she could feel it wrap around her before he even touched her.

Her body tight with anticipation, Heather lifted her face to his. She thought Sloan would kiss her, but instead he put his hands lightly on her shoulders and turned her slowly to face the full-length mirror. Watching in the glass while he stood behind her, he drew down the neckline of her chemise to expose her proud, thrusting breasts.

The cool, white light was unforgiving, as was Sloan’s hard assessment of her body; her skin shone as pale and luminous as the pearls at her throat.

Heather drew a shaky breath. With her breasts scandalously bare, she felt deliciously sinful and desirable. It was all she could do to remain still as the strong bronzed fingers rose to cup her ivory flesh. She was scaldingly aware of Sloan’s near-nakedness, of his heat at her back, of his hard thighs grazing her soft bottom.