‘Good,’ she said. ‘Keep it that way. Or I’ll make like Delilah and cut off your sexy hair.’
‘No need to worry about it,’ he said grimly as he began dragging clothes off both of them. ‘I don’t even exist when I am not with you.’
‘You’re with me now,’ she murmured consolingly.
‘No, I am not,’ he denied, then came over her and entered her. ‘Now I am with you,’ he grunted in rough satisfaction.
‘If this isn’t real,’ she groaned as she flexed to take him in further, ‘I don’t ever want to wake up.’
‘It’s real,’ he assured her. ‘Feel it.’ He gave a thrust of his tight hips. ‘Real.’
‘I belong to you, don’t I?’
‘Of course. What kind of statement do you think I am making here?’
Tears filled her eyes, turning summer into midnight. ‘I’ve never belonged to anyone before,’ she whispered confidingly.
The real Annie Lacey, he saw, with a pain that cut deep into his breast. Like a child, she looked helplessly, vulnerably exposed. His big chest moved on a wave of fierce emotion.
‘You belong,’ he avowed. ‘Mine.’ It was hot. It was gruff and it was possessive. ‘Now take hold of my hair,’ he instructed tensely.
‘Why?’ she asked, momentarily thrown by the command.
‘Because it’s sexy! All right?’
She smiled, and suddenly she was no longer Annie the vulnerable child, but Annie the sensual woman, exalting in her own power. Her fingers fixed around his hair then pulled fiercely, smothering his groan of pleasurable pain as she brought his hot mouth down onto her own.
A moment later and the ribbon fell away, allowing black silk to enclose them as they lost themselves in each other.
Yes, I belong. This is real, was Annie’s last coherent thought. This is wonderfully, exquisitely real.
* * * * *