But before she could say anything, he moved over her, his perfect, sleek body poised above her, his knees parting her legs. “I can’t help myself,” he cried as he entered her and she arched upward to meet him.
Her fingers clung to the hard, strident muscles of his back as he moved, thrusting inside her with a passion so fierce she could barely breathe.
She met each of his impassioned lunges with her own. Time and space ceased to exist, and her mind spun out of control. The sound of the sea receded, and all she could hear was her own throbbing heartbeat and Zane’s ragged breathing.
Staring up at him, watching the play of emotions across his strong features, she let her body control her until there was nothing in the universe save Zane and her. Hot and wild, she felt him stiffen, and a wondrous release caused her to cry out. “Zane—Oh, Zane!” Her world tilted out of control as spasm after glorious spasm enveloped her.
“I’m here, love,” he answered, before falling in exhaustion into her waiting arms.
Chapter Eleven
She let him stay. Telling herself she was every kind of fool, Kaylie let Zane spend the night. She was allowing herself one more night of pleasure without thinking of the consequences, and they spent the early hours of the morning making love.
At five, she reluctantly rolled out of bed. Zane turned over and groaned but didn’t wake up. She showered quickly. As she dressed, she glanced at him still sprawled across her peach-colored quilt and blankets.
Her stomach twisted painfully when she thought that this might be the last time they would ever be together. She couldn’t afford to become emotionally tangled up with him again, but a part of her longed for the marriage they had once shared, the happiness they’d held for so brief a moment.
She loved him still. As much, if not more, than on the day they married. Now, as she gazed at his sleeping form, all tangled in her sheets, she felt a rush of hot tears in her throat. If only things had worked out differently….
“Stop it,” she muttered, clasping a gold necklace around her neck and swiping at her eyes. She wouldn’t cry now. Nostalgia would serve no purpose.
“What?” Zane growled, opening a sleepy eye. “Stop what?” His jaw darkened with the stubble of a beard, his eyelids drooping seductively, his bare muscles moving fluidly as he adjusted the covers. He looked so virile and male, she had to glance back to her reflection before she did or said anything stupid. “Were you talking to me?” he asked with a yawn.
She brushed her hair until it crackled. “No, I was talking to myself, but since you’re awake, remember to lock the door when you leave.” She adjusted her turquoise-colored skirt and slid her arms through a matching jacket. “And leave the extra set of keys on the table.”
“You’re throwing me out?” he asked, disbelieving. He stretched lazily, his skin dark against the sheets. His sable-brown hair fell rakishly over his eyes, and his lips twisted into a thin, sensual smile.
“I think it would be safer that way.”
“For whom?”
“You,” she quipped, seeing her eyes twinkle in the reflection as she added earrings and a dab of perfume. “You just never know when I might decide to have my way with you.”
“So have it!” He tossed back the covers to display all too vividly his well-muscled body, his mat of dark curling chest hair, his firm legs and much, much more.
Kaylie’s breath caught in her throat, and she had to swallow in order to speak. “It’s, uh, tempting—very tempting, but really, I’ve got to go—”
“Call in sick,” he suggested.
“Not on your life!” She slipped into bone-colored heels. “After already being gone while ‘Aunt Brenda’ was taken so ill, I don’t think calling in sick would go over so well.”
Zane grinned devilishly. “I could arrange it so that your aunt had a relapse.”
“You’re impossible!” Kaylie threw her brush at him, then strutted down the hall.
Zane scrambled off the bed, the glint in his eye unmistakable. Kaylie giggled as she half ran to the kitchen. Stark naked, he tore after her through the house and caught up with her at the back door.
“Zane, don’t,” she protested, fighting more laughter as his arms surrounded her and he kissed her passionately, holding her hostage against the back door. She squirmed and wriggled, but his kiss was warm and wet and reminded her of the way he’d felt the night before.
“Don’t what?” he whispered, his tongue flicking sensually between her teeth.
She couldn’t speak until he lifted his head.
“Don’t muss my hair or clothes or…” The words faded away as he kissed her again, his tongue darting between her teeth, claiming her mouth, his hands moving downward to cup her buttocks and bring her hips hard against his.
“Or what?” he prodded, not abandoning his assault on her senses.
Kaylie’s knees turned to jelly, and though she knew she should shove him away, she couldn’t find the strength. “Or I might just—”