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laughed delightedly against her open mouth and eased his hips over hers. She was his already.
    “Eric,” she ventured shakily.
    “What do you want?” he asked, tasting her closed eyelids.
    Her hands went to the front of his shirt, and he lifted his head. “Do you want to feel me?”
    She flushed. “Yes.”
    “Unbutton it.”
    He was heavy, but she loved his weight. Overhead there were hundreds of stars. But all she knew was the unexpected completeness of his passion.
    She touched his bare, hair-rough skin with hands that tingled with excitement. She’d never touched a man’s body before, but she loved the feel of Dutch’s. His muscles were padded, warm and strong, and she could imagine that his strength was formidable.
    “Move your hands,” he said seconds later, and when she did, he dragged his bare chest roughly over hers, shocking her with the force of desire the unexpected action caused in her body.
    “Do you like it?” he asked as he moved sinuously above her.
    “I never dreamed…” she began huskily. She was trembling, and so was her voice. “Oh, I want you,” she confessed on a sob. “I want you, I want you!”
    “I want you, too, little one,” he whispered, kissing her softly. “But I can’t treat you like a one-night stand. I find I have too much conscience.”
    Tears were rolling down her cheeks. He kissed them all away, and his tongue brushed the tears from her eyelashes, and she realized suddenly that she hadn’t had her glasses on for quite a while.
    “My…glasses?” she falterd.
    “Above your head,” he said with a smile. He sat up slowly, catching her wrists to pull her up with him. She was in a patch of light that allowed him a delicious view of creamy, hard-tipped breasts in blatant arousal.
    “Oh, you’re something else, Miss St. Clair,” he said gently. He bent and touched his mouth to the very tip of one breast.
    Her breath wouldn’t come steadily. She looked down at his blond head. “I…we should…that is…”
    He lifted his head. “Suppose in the morning we get married?”
    “M-married?”
    He nodded. “Married.” He pulled up her bodice with obvious reluctance. Then he reached behind her, retrieved her glasses, and put them back on her.
    “But…”
    His knuckles brushed one perfect breast lazily, feeling it go hard again. “This isn’t going to get better,” he said. “By tomorrow we’ll be in such a fever that nothing is going to keep us away from each other. I haven’t experienced anything this powerful since I was about fifteen. And I’m damned sure you’re feeling it for the first time.”
    “Yes, I know that, but we’re strangers,” she protested, trying to keep her head.
    “We aren’t going to be strangers for much longer,” he said flatly. “My God, I want you,” he ground out. “If you won’t marry me, I’m getting the hell out of this hotel tonight, and on the next plane out of Veracruz. Because I can’t bear to be around you without taking you. And I won’t take you without marriage.”
    “But…”
    “Am I so unmarriageable?” he burst out. “My God, I’ve had women propose to
me
! I’m not ugly, I’m well to do, I like dogs and cats, and I pay my bills on time. I’m in fairly decent health, I have friends…why in hell won’t you marry me?”
    “But it’s only desire,” she began.
    “Stop trying to be logical,” he said gruffly. “I’m not capable of logic when I’m aching like this. I want you. And you want me. For God’s sake, put me out of my misery!”
    “Would…would we have a divorce if…after we…if you…” she began.
    “I’m getting older.” He got to his feet and drew her up with him. “I travel a lot, you’d have to get used to that. But until now I’ve never had anyone of my own. I like you. I like being with you. And I think we’ll set fires in bed. It’s more than most people start out with. At least we aren’t kids who believe in fairy tales like love and happily-ever-after. I’d