Cathy Cash Spellman

New York Times & International Best Selling Author

Playground of the Gods Excerpt

The Playground of the Gods Excerpt

Chapter 8

Justine lay across the huge antique bed that dominated the vast bedroom. The flesh-colored teddy she wore was trimmed with ecru lace, and clung to the superb young body beneath, like a satin skin. She had been undecided, until a few moments before, whether she would let Thoros make love to her this first night. But the beach party had been provocative, sensual, and the tropical languor had seeped into her bones in a primal way that had made her feel the liquid, silken wanting that keeps the world in motion.

She wondered if it would be different for them tonight; less­ened from their first encounter, which had been almost by chance. Both stranded unexpectedly for one snowy night in Gstaad, irtroduced by friends, then left to their own devices, the snow too heavy to meander far. In a way, that would be easier, less complicated; she was just coming off love affair that had left her wary.

On the other hand, she enjoyed the cat-and-mouse quality of early romance; men were always at their best in early courtship mode, striving so hard to be wi4some, willing to kill themselves in the effort of sexual conquest And Thoros was an interesting man. Too old for long-term, liaison, too surfeited with women for any illusions to remain, but interesting, nonetheless.

Justine felt dizzy with sensual expectation, now that she’d decided to let the games begin tonight.  She wished Thoros would hurry with whatever had delayed him, and when theminutes ticked by without his arrival she decided that there was little reason to wait. She reached down to touch the places that had begun to throb with expectation and spread her thighs to expose the damp core of herself to her own exploration.

She paid no attention to the shadow that fell across her face when Thoros came in and stood at the foot of the bed staring down at her.

“Don’t steal from me, Justine,” he said, his voice low and in­tense. “It’s my place to pleasure you.”

“You were late,” she replied simply. There was a challenge he read in her eyes that asked what he could offer her that would be better.

Justine watched his face as he shed his towel and swimsuit, dropping them unceremoniously onto a damask chair—the ca­sual deliberation of it excited her, making her realize how pro­foundly she wanted to make love at that moment. It was a strong male face, part kindness, part cruelty in the eyes that were full of sexual knowing.

“Turn over,” he said, and she complied. He ran his hands over her body in a proprietary way, carefully, as if intuiting it, strong fingers tracing shoulders, back, buttocks, legs, searching for understanding of what lay beneath the surface. He spread her thighs with infinite tenderness, then pushed himself inside her suddenly, surprisingly, without another gesture.

Justine gasped at the quick intrusion, feeling strangely ex­hilarated by the suddenness. She arched to meet his thrust, but he didn’t move at all as she’d expected him to.Expecting her surprise, Thoros leaned his mouth close to her ear and whis­pered, “Lie very still, Justine. I’m going to make love to you.”

“No!” she said sharply, pulling herself free of his flesh, leav­ing him surprised, now. There was a kind of confused annoyance in the knitted brows, and in his eyes, disappointment.

Justine smiled reassurance and putting both hands on his chest, pushed him back down onto the silken coverlet.

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