…He moved from her bed, then began a slow strip. Betsy gulped, feeling as if she was suddenly running a fever. Roarke was built like a fantasy, but he was real, he was here, and he was hers. Warm, hard as steel in all the right places and the fact he wanted her was becoming increasingly obvious.

The thought of begging for him wasn’t a problem. In fact, Betsy couldn’t wait any longer. When he started to pull the belt from his pants like he was in no hurry, Betsy took things into her own hands.

She struggled up on her knees and replaced his hands with her own. The belt whipped away from the cloth and her hands worked at his waistband. While they were busy opening the button fly, her lips were trailing a line down his flat abs. When she reached the opening and the top of his zipper, she bit lightly, then used her tongue to soothe the small mark her teeth had left. She didn’t stop there, however. As she lowered the zipper tab by tab, she left wet, open-mouthed kisses over his warm flesh.

“Betsy, darling,” Roarke begged, “let me love you.”

“No,” she breathed when she finally freed his clothing. “Let me love you. There was a time they were holding me captive when I almost didn’t believe I’d ever get to do this. I want to enjoy every minute.”