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against him. His pulse beat against her finger, firm and fast; it made her own pulse accelerate to feel it.
    She pulled back her hand, swallowing, amazed at the strange sensations coursing through her tonight. She had never felt a tingling quite like the one she felt when she dragged the cloth across his chest; she had never known the heat that flowered in her abdomen. It was all very peculiar and exciting and enjoyable, all at once.
    She brought the cool rag from the water to his chest again and began a long, slow sweep down his body. Her finger passed over his flat masculine nipple, and she thought that it felt much harder and more pointed than it had before. Her patient moaned and turned toward her, kicking off his blanket once more. Priscilla shook her head, and was leaning down to pull it back up to his waist when her eyes fell upon the same member at which she had sneaked a peek earlier. She stopped in midmotion, staring.
    It was different.
    It was bigger and longer, and it seemed to be rising upward. Blinking, she drew her hand back. Automatically she began to wash his chest again, while her mind considered what she’d just seen. As she moved her hand down his chest and onto his stomach, she saw his shaft move. She stopped, amazed, then tentatively strokedhis stomach again with her cloth. Again his manhood twitched and seemed to grow.
    She glanced back up at his face. He was still asleep, his eyes closed, but his face looked somehow looser, and his mouth was open slightly. His breath rasped in his throat. Priscilla felt her own throat closing up, and something beginning to pulse deep between her legs. She squeezed her legs together tightly, surprised at the sensation.
    He licked his dry lips again. Priscilla watched him. Then—she wasn’t sure why—she dipped her forefinger into the glass of water she had brought him earlier and touched it to his lips. He pressed his lips to her finger. His hot breath seared her hand, and her stomach was fluttering as if butterflies were warring within it.
    She dipped her finger back into the water and trailed her damp finger across his lips. This time his tongue snaked out, scooping the water from her finger. It was soft as velvet, hot and firm, and heat surged in her loins.
    His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her. His eyes were glazed and vague; there was no recognition, no questioning, as there had been earlier. His lips curved upward in a way that did strange things to her insides.
    â€œNice,” he murmured. His hand came up and curved over her cheek. “How much?”
    â€œI beg your pardon?” Priscilla looked at him blankly. The touch of his hand on her face, faintly rough and searingly hot, made every thought fly out of her head.
    â€œFor the night,” he went on in a low voice. “For you.” His hand slid down her throat and onto her chest, cupping her breast. “Mm…Madam Chang always knows how to pick them.”
    Heat flooded Priscilla when she realized, from his graphic gesture, exactly what he was talking about. He thought she was a woman of the night! Someone whose favors he could buy!
    â€œSir!” She pushed his hand away and started to rise, but he clamped his fingers around her wrist and held her still.
    â€œWait. Don’t go.” His other hand went to the back of her neck, cupping it and pulling her down toward him. “Don’t you understand? You’re the one I want.”
    â€œNo! Wait! You are mistaken. You’ve—you’re delirious.” Priscilla braced her hand against his chest, but he seemed to feel the gesture was a caress, for he smiled and murmured something and pulled her even closer, until she was only inches from his face.
    Then his lips were on hers, hot and demanding. She had never been kissed like this before in her life. In truth, she had been kissed only three times, and those had been mere pecks, a brush of the lips. There had not been this heat, this demand,