Her hands slid under his shirt, up his back. Hard, strong hands, an arousing contrast to the wand-slim body, the satiny skin.
She drew his shirt over his head, reared up enough to set her teeth on his bare shoulder. And the shock of it speared straight to his loins.
The terrace door flew open once more, and the wind burst through to slap over him. He simply reached down, hauled the duvet up. And burrowed under it with her.
She laughed, and found his mouth in the blanketing dark.
Tasting her, feasting on her, he tugged her sweater up and off. "Tell me if you're too cold. "
"No. I couldn't be. "
She was burning up from the inside out, and only wanted more. More of his hands, his mouth. She arched to him, demanding, exalting when those hands, that mouth claimed her breast. The thrill of it stabbed through her, the bliss of giving her body, of having itused .
They rolled together, tugging each other free of clothes, sliding together naked as flesh began to slick from heat and passion.
The blankets fell away, so firelight flickered over them. And if in some dim corner of her brain she heard someone weeping, she could feel only that steady rise of excitement. She could see only him, in the glow of the fire, rising over her.
She lifted to meet him, opened to take him. And sighed, sighed, when he slipped inside her.
He watched her now as she watched him, gazes and bodies locked. Then the movement, slow, intensely focused as her breath came short and ragged, as dark, deep pleasure flooded her, swept her away.
He watched her crest, the arch of her throat, the blur of her eyes, felt her fly over as she squeezed around him. He fought to hold on another moment, just another moment while she quaked under him, while her breath hitched, then released on a long, low moan. And her body went soft and limp in surrender.
He kissed her then, one last, desperate kiss before he plunged, and emptied.
THE DOORS WEREclosed as the
y should be. The fire crackled and simmered. And the house was quiet, settled, and warm.
She was cocooned with him in the center of the bed, allowing herself to enjoy the bliss and the glow. With very little effort, she could have drifted straight off to sleep.
"Looks like she gave up," Mitch commented.
"Yes. For now, anyway. "
"You were right about the fire. It's nice. Very nice. "
Then he rolled so that she was under him again, and he could look down at her face. "Being with you," he began, then shook his head, touched his lips to hers. "Being with you. "
"Yes. " Smiling, she stroked her fingers through his hair. "That's very nice, too. I haven't wanted to be with anyone in a very long time. You know, you've got good arms, for a scholar. " She gave his biceps a squeeze. "I like good arms. I don't like to think I'm shallow, but I have to say it's a pleasure being naked with a man who keeps in shape. "
"I'll change that to a woman, then say the same. The first time I met you, I stood and watched you walk away. You've got one excellent ass, Ms. Harper. "
"It happens I do. " With a laugh, she gave his a light slap. "We'd better get dressed, go on down before everyone starts coming home. "
"In a minute. It was your eyes that hooked me - hooked right through me. "
"My eyes?"
"Oh yeah. I thought maybe it was because they're the color of good aged whiskey - and I did love a good whiskey. But that's not it. It's the way they look straight at me. Straight on. Fearless, and just a little regal. "
"Please. "
"Oh yeah, there's lady of the manor in there, and it beats the hell out of me why it's so sexy. Ought to be irritating, or intimidating at least. But for me, it's just . . . stimulating. "
"If that's the case, I'm going to have to start wearing dark glasses so I don't get you heated up at inappropriate times. "
"Won't matter a damn. " He gave her a light kiss, then shifted. Took her hand. "This mattered. This was important. There isn't anyone else. "