Читать книгу The Mistresses Collection - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 48
ОглавлениеCaitlin moaned as she reluctantly woke. Her body tingled. He’d flipped her over for their tenth round only an hour ago, determined to prove that the woman’s gushing in that article hadn’t been a massive exaggeration and that he could, in fact, go much, much more.
‘So how bad was it?’ James asked teasingly.
With effort she rolled away from where she’d been burrowed against his side and smiled, happy to take the bait—and bite. ‘I think you need a little more practice at being super bad.’
‘More practice?’ He lay face down in the centre of the bed, his words muffled by pillows and a delighted laziness in his voice.
She prised her eyelids open with her fingers. ‘Much.’
He half laughed, mostly groaned. ‘Tigress.’
She’d barely slept—she couldn’t with the way he’d tended to her, tormented on her. The way he’d touched her... She was still floating in an utterly soothed, relaxed state. She’d never felt such freedom and yet such safety before. There were no morning after regrets here.
With a growl and a curse he levered up from the bed. ‘I’m not looking at you.’ He stumbled into the bathroom.
Caitlin closed her eyes again and stretched right out on the bed. Her aches began to ease; already she hungered for fulfilment again. With treatment like this, she could stay here for ever.
Her eyes flashed open at that wayward thought. Instantly, imperatively she reminded herself of some fundamental truths. Just as there was no such thing as love-at-first-sight, nor was there such a thing as love-at-first-screw. There was definitely no such thing as life-changing, earth-shattering, cataclysmic sex. So this dreamy, whole-other-plane of happiness she was coasting on was purely hormonal. Not actually real. Her pulse would settle, the softness inside would harden up again.
Dazed, she made herself drum up some emotional armour. Doubtless he had a million annoying habits—aside from the arrogance and occasional moodiness she’d already witnessed. And just because they were sexually compatible didn’t mean they had anything more in common. The ‘happy ever after’ fantasy flash could disperse into the thin air from which it had come. It was a moment, that was all. Everyone knew the initial rush of lust faded from any relationship.
Not that this was a relationship.
Hell. Her mind was shredded.
This was just fun, easy sex. With the ground rules established and the end date already in sight, there was simply enjoyment to be had. Like having a regular booking at a fine restaurant, she’d be able to enjoy all the dishes over a few short days. Then end it satisfied, replete and with no ill effects after.
The bathroom door opened and he walked out. Rippling abs, massive muscles, even more massive erection.
Dear heaven. How could he possibly be hard again? ‘Did you pop Viagra while you were in there?’ She gaped, so tempted to climb aboard and take another ride to oblivion.
‘Who needs that when I have you to look at?’ he answered all husky voice, stubble and smoky eyes. ‘You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. And the way you move? The way you moan? They way you whisper sweet filth in my ear?’ He shook his head and laughed. ‘I can’t not get hard for you.’
‘You say the most charming things.’ She shimmied into the sheets, wanting him to come back to bed. She’d discovered her inner nympho.
‘I know.’ He grinned.
But to her horror he walked into the wardrobe.
‘Are you getting dressed?’ she asked, amazed. How would he ever get his trousers done up? And what was with the hurry? Didn’t he want to sleep? Didn’t he want to put that fine erection to use?
She heard his bark of laughter.
‘You’re in New York,’ he said. ‘You should be making the most of your time here.’
‘I am,’ she called after him. ‘I’ve already walked my own New York marathon. What more do I need?’
‘You should be experiencing all the city has to offer, not just walking past all the attractions.’
‘This is all your travel expertise coming out, huh?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m experiencing local hospitality—getting to know one local very well. Isn’t that enough?’
‘No. There is so much to see and do. This is your holiday. And mine.’
She hesitated. Seriously? He didn’t just want to have a holiday in bed? ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Don’t look so wary.’ He waggled his index finger at her. ‘It won’t cost anything.’
She steadfastly met his gaze. ‘There are different kinds of costs. Money is the least of my concerns.’
‘Really?’
A small sigh escaped her. ‘You still don’t understand. You had trouble over one news story, James. One. Do you have any idea how many headlines I’ve been in? None of them good.’ She forced herself to get up off the bed and stalked towards the bathroom. The guy was never going to get it.
‘You’re still worried about being spotted?’ He followed her, leaning against the doorframe. ‘Well, so what if you are? Why give a damn? Why not just get out there and lift your chin high and screw them all?’
She kept her back to him as she turned on the shower. ‘It’s not that easy—as well you know.’ She turned to face him. ‘You’re too scared to enter a new relationship for fear of the media finding out. Of someone letting you down.’
His mouth opened, shut, then opened again. ‘That’s not why I don’t want a relationship.’
‘No?’
‘Of course it’s not. I’m not that pathetic.’
He wasn’t? She stepped into the shower. ‘So why no relationship?’
He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t fit with my lifestyle. I’m away all the time. I’m never sure for how long or where I’m going to be going. It’s not fair to ask someone to keep home fires burning.’
Oh, please, that was the line he was spinning? ‘Military spouses do it all the time,’ she said, lathering up the shower gel. ‘SEALS go covert in all kinds of dangerous places, for who knows how long.’
‘It’s not going to work for me. I’m not going to ask someone to live their life like that for me. I’m not going to leave a family in the lurch if I happen not to come back. I’m not doing that to my kid.’
Raw vehemence tinged his voice, betraying emotion. A personal connection to the words? Who had he seen not come back?
She frowned as she rinsed off, wishing she were up close enough to see into his eyes. His family published the world’s most popular independent travel guides. His grandfather had started it, his parents were also intrepid travellers. He and his brothers had grown up with the world at their feet. They were the ultimate success story. Living the American dream—independent, ambitious and happy, right?
‘Maybe you wouldn’t travel so much when you’re settled. You’d take fewer risks,’ she said.
His expression shuttered, he reached for a towel and held it out to her. ‘I’m not changing my job for anyone. I’ll never stop doing what I do. And I’d never be able to compromise it, not for anyone.’
Caitlin stepped out of the shower and wrapped the large towel around her. ‘Work will always come first for you.’ A little patch in her chest ached, but she got it.
His stance stiffened and he crossed his arms, regarding her steadily. ‘I love my job. I need to—’
‘It’s okay.’ She smiled peaceably, walking back into the bedroom. ‘You don’t have to justify it. I understand, I’ve seen it before. It’s what you’re driven to do.’
He regarded her, the defensiveness draining from his shoulders. ‘Who else do you know like that?’
‘My father. My sister.’ She shrugged. Nothing but work mattered to them—for different reasons. Her father because he sought the fame and the fortune and he’d do almost anything to get it. Her sister simply because she loved it. She loved losing herself in a character, into someone else’s life. Even better that the someone else wasn’t even real. Work was everything to them, coming ahead of anything and anyone else. Even family. That was the way it was.
Caitlin had thought she was okay with it. Over it. Until the Dominic mess. Until she’d been pilloried by the press and her family still hadn’t stepped up to defend her. That had just ripped the scab off the old wound. Now she found it festered.
Now she would never put herself in that situation again. No relationship, no man was worth being second to anything else in his life—certainly not career. No matter how heroic he might be.
But curiosity mounted as Caitlin sorted through the clothes in her suitcase—why was James so driven? The guy had money, she knew that. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have to work a day in his life if he didn’t actually want to. So what made him want to so much?
‘What led you into it,’ she asked. ‘You always wanted to be a doctor?’
‘I guess.’ He leaned against the wall, watching as she dressed. ‘One of those games we all play as kids, right?’
‘But why search and rescue specifically?’
‘I did a stint in emergency field work as part of my training and it just fit. I knew that’s what I wanted to do. I made sure that’s what I did. All my training from then on was directed that way.’
His reply was so glib, she was sure it was the PR answer again. The one he’d given many times when all those people wanted his story after that landslide photo. If she searched on his iPad she’d probably find the quote almost verbatim in one of those articles spotlighting him. But it didn’t seem to fully explain that deep drive—was there another reason he was compelled to work so much?
He walked up to her, suddenly turning her to face him.
‘Let’s go sightseeing.’ He framed her face, tilting it so she couldn’t look away from him. ‘You can’t hide—it’s like you’ve let them put you in a prison. You shouldn’t. You’re not guilty.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not that.’
He ran his hand down her spine, as if he were soothing a spitting cat. ‘Then what?’ He drew her close so she leant against his body.
She didn’t want to resist. How could she? But she might make him pay. ‘Okay. I’ll come out with you. But there can be no PDA.’
He tugged her hair so she lifted her face. He stared at her in disbelief. ‘You’re that paranoid?’
‘The photographers might not know me. But they know you. You’re like royalty here.’
She saw the denial flare in his eyes. ‘You’re worried about being photographed with me?’
She nodded.
He threw his head back and laughed. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
She put her palms on his chest and pushed, freeing herself. ‘It is not.’
‘It is.’ He laughed again. ‘But okay. If that’s what it’ll take, then no PDA. You want to walk five paces behind me as well?’
‘Not a bad idea,’ she said loftily. ‘That way I can check out your butt.’
His eyes glittered wickedly. ‘Come on. Come with me now and I’ll let you do a lot more than check out my butt later.’
It wasn’t quite five paces behind, but Caitlin did linger just a little as they walked outside the apartment building, purely to check out his mighty fine butt.
* * *
James walked up to the yellow taxi idling at the kerb. Tired but determined to do this for Caitlin. The right thing. She couldn’t spend the next fortnight doing nothing but having sex with him. Much as he’d love exactly that. Except he knew he wouldn’t—if he lay still too long, thoughts began to bug him.
He bent his head to look through the window and grinned at the driver who’d picked him up from the airport only a couple of days before. Oddly, it felt like a lifetime ago. Life had changed. ‘Thanks so much,’ he said.
‘Any time.’
‘I might need you for a couple of days,’ James warned.
‘No problem. Where you want to go first?’
‘I’ll tell you in a minute.’ James straightened and turned to find Caitlin. She was just in front of the entrance to the building, studiously—obviously—ogling him. He laughed. ‘Come on, then, woman.’ He winked.
‘We’re going by taxi?’ She looked pretty damn happy at the sight of the yellow car.
‘I massaged those sore feet of yours last night, remember?’ James teased. ‘I’m saving myself from the task tonight.’
She reached up on tiptoes and murmured in his ear. ‘Maybe I’ll require a massage anyway.’
Before he could wrap an arm around her waist and hussle her back home pronto, she stepped out of reach and opened the cab door, sliding inside.
James took a moment to inhale deep and tell himself he could manage the no-PDA thing. Climbing into the cab after her, he chuckled inwardly at her outrageous demands. The woman who’d been so tart and scathing that first night sure had a naughty streak. He loved it. Loved that she felt free enough with him to release it.
He knew she didn’t usually. Hell, she was blushing now, even though she’d said her little vixen bit already. But it was because of the deal they’d struck—an unlimited, evanescent fling. It gave them both a kind of freedom.
‘So where are we going?’ She turned towards him as she asked, her eyes alert, face shining.
His tour-guide trick had been a damn good idea. The no PDA thing? Not so much.
James shifted on the seat and tried to convince himself that all good things came to those who waited. ‘First we’re going on a drive by. Edited highlights. So you get an overview of the island without destroying your feet. Let’s start with a trip around the park.’
The taxi driver pulled out into the traffic.
‘James.’
Uh-oh, he didn’t like the edge in her voice. He glanced across and saw her gnawing the edge of her lip. ‘Problem?’
She nodded. ‘Money. Paying for this.’
He drew a breath and lied. ‘The cab is free, right?’ he called to the driver.
‘Absolutely. I owe you,’ he answered.
Good thing James had briefed him and already paid for the full day’s driving.
James felt Caitlin’s unrelenting gaze on him. To his astonishment he felt a flush mount in his own cheeks—probably deep enough to match hers.
Yeah, she knew it was a set-up. But she said nothing. James quickly leaned forward and pointed past her, out of her window. ‘Look, you can just see the Chrysler through there.’
He knew distraction would get him only so far with her. He knew he was spoilt. It was pure luck he’d been born into an extremely wealthy family. Hell, he donated almost his entire salary to charity because he already had enough income from his trust fund. He didn’t need to work a day in his life, not for money. But for sanity? For self-worth? For dignity? He’d work every hour he could. Usually he took care not to flash his funds around the guys he worked with. Certainly not around the people who’d more often than not just lost everything.
But he wanted to take Caitlin out. The money, the offer, meant nothing to him. Yet meant all the wrong things to her. He knew she wouldn’t accept because she was proud enough to want to go Dutch and couldn’t afford it. So he was going to have to improvise. Fortunately, he knew where he could find some really good guidebooks.
And he’d show her New York.
‘You want to get an idea of where things are,’ he said as the car cruised along with the traffic. ‘How the city works, in terms of design.’ If she designed costumes, he figured she’d be interested in other aspects of design too. ‘I have a plan for sustained sightseeing.’
‘Oh, you do?’
‘Uh-huh.’ He nodded sagely. ‘You don’t want to cram too much into one day. You have the benefit of a whole month in New York—you can afford to take your time, get to some of the things that aren’t on the usual lists, spend longer in some of the great places.’
‘Okay.’
He grinned; he had her interest. ‘So the rough daily plan is a gallery, a park, a place.’
‘Daily plan?’ she giggled. ‘Like this is some sightseeing diet?’
‘Feast,’ he corrected in all seriousness. ‘I’m assuming you’re into galleries, right? Museums? Places to soak up inspiration?’
Her face lit up. ‘Yes, please.’
‘Then a park—some fresh air. A bit of a stretch, some greenery. And then a place.’
‘A place?’
‘Like a building, or another kind of attraction. Maybe something historical, whatever. Like Liberty. Sound good?’
‘Sure. I’m happy to be in your hands,’ she turned her head towards him and cooed.
Tease.
‘All right, let’s head to our gallery for today.’ He had to get out of the car before he hauled her across his lap and showed her what he really thought of the no-PDA idea. ‘The Met. You okay with that?’
‘Absolutely.’
Twenty minutes later they got out of the cab. James told the cabbie to come back in a couple of hours and then pulled the paper from his pocket. He’d printed the e-tickets while she was showering this morning. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at them and registered what they were.
‘I don’t like queues.’ He shrugged.
‘I’m not a charity case.’
‘You can buy me lunch in return.’
She looked up at him, her eyes very blue and fully serious. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’
‘I know you will.’ He ached to pull her close and kiss her and tell her not to worry about the damn price of anything. But he wasn’t going to do that to her. He respected her need for independence. For space.
They were things he needed himself.
They walked into the Great Hall of the museum. She inhaled a deep breath, she even seemed to grow taller. Yeah, this was definitely what she’d needed.
He glanced around the interior—taking in the vaulted ceilings—and felt his own spirit revitalise. Yeah, he needed it too. To keep busy—his mind busy.
He let her pick which collections to tackle, happy to follow in her wake—the requisite ‘five paces behind’ perfect for checking out the inherently seductive sway of her hips as she walked. She wore another floral dress that accentuated her waist and the lush curves of her breasts. Ah, he shouldn’t be thinking of her breasts. It was going to be hours before he could bare them and set his mouth over her pretty pink—
He slammed the brakes on his thoughts and stared hard at a painting instead.
Focus, James.
But it was hard. He was hard. Why had he thought trailing around a gallery, unable to touch her, would be a good idea? He gave up on looking at the painted 2D beauties and concentrated on the live, warm, real woman right in front of him.
‘You don’t want to take photos? Buy postcards?’ he asked as they wandered from hall to hall.
‘No. I put things in here if I need to.’ She pulled a small sketchbook from her bag.
‘You draw?’ He peered over her shoulder to see the pages.
‘Enough to remember what I need to.’ She snapped it shut.
But he’d got a glimpse—small, neat, pencilled pictures. ‘What kinds of things?’ He was intrigued.
‘Patterns. Ideas. Scraps of memory. But mostly it’s all up here.’ She tapped her temple. ‘Treasures.’
Yeah, she was smart. Intense. Enthusiastic.
His brain wandered off course again. Hell, he needed some fresh air.
‘So are we going to Central Park?’ she asked when they finally headed back to meet the cabbie.
‘That would be too obvious.’ He grinned.
‘Oh.’ Her brows arched.
‘This is a park where you wouldn’t expect to find one.’
‘Where’s that?’
He pointed a finger to the sky.
‘This is really cool—the views are amazing.’ She almost bounced in excitement a half-hour later as they walked along the disused railway line that had been developed into an elevated, slim park. She turned to him and blushed. ‘You’ve seen all this.’ She glanced at him. ‘I’m sorry if this is boring.’
‘Never boring. I love New York.’ Hell, he’d forgotten just how much fun the city could be. When had he last had a holiday? He honestly couldn’t remember. Not a real holiday anyway; he always combined travel with work. ‘And I’ve not seen any of this with you before. Come on.’ He nodded to a stand ahead. ‘You can buy me lunch.’
She glanced at him. ‘You want this for lunch?’
‘I love those pretzels.’
‘Real carbs man, aren’t you?’
He nodded. ‘I find I need the energy at the moment.’
Laughing, she went to the stand and bought two of the giant, doughy pretzels.
She handed him one with a flourish. ‘I know you’re doing this to soothe my penniless pride.’
‘Careful,’ he said softly. ‘Looking at me like that might make me want to kiss you.’
‘Uh-uh.’ Laughing, she stepped a couple of paces ahead of him.
They walked along the High Line, eating. Ruefully he pondered how amazing it was that the decision not to touch made him so aware of how close she was. How easy it would be to touch. He glanced up and saw she’d caught him—no doubt his thoughts had been written all over his face given she was blushing now. But she shook her head provocatively, as if she were the mistress remonstrating with the misbehaving boy. She was going to pay for that. Later.
‘We’d better keep moving,’ he growled. ‘The Public Library,’ he instructed the cabbie when he met them at the end of the park.
‘The lions are called Patience and Fortitude,’ James informed her as they walked towards the entrance a short-ish drive later. ‘Which do you identify with?’
‘Definitely Fortitude,’ she answered wryly. ‘And you?’
‘Patience,’ he groaned. ‘I need much patience today.’
‘Poor James,’ she cooed. ‘Are you suffering?’
She had no idea.
The library was beautiful, stunning, fascinating. Just like her. James struggled to contain the rising sense of impatience as they slowly walked through the massive reading room. But he was determined to control himself—and his wayward urges. He could do something for someone else, put someone else’s needs first...
Except he was starting to wonder what her needs might be right at this time. She was looking at him more than she was looking at the building and the treasures within.
‘James?’ she asked softly—all the sass gone. Her blue eyes had gone smoky.
‘You got lunch, I’ve already got dinner.’ He sent her a quelling look and marched her back to the waiting cab. ‘No arguing. Central Park please,’ he called to the cabbie. ‘Best entrance for the Delacorte.’ He couldn’t let her derail his carefully laid plans. Not so quickly.
‘Sure.’
James peeked into the basket the driver had collected for him while they were at the library. ‘Thanks,’ he said as the car pulled over. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Nine-thirty?’
‘Perfect.’
But when he followed Caitlin out of the cab, she stood in his way, her hands on hips. ‘See him tomorrow?’
‘He owes me big time.’ James nodded, switching the basket to his other hand.
‘James—’
‘Shall we go to a show?’ He walked past her towards the park, ignoring her half-frustrated laugh. ‘Come on.’
‘James!’
‘Don’t worry.’ He pointed to a poster. ‘It’s free. All the tickets are free.’
Diverted, she stopped and scanned the print. Her gaze flickered to him accusingly. ‘I don’t recall you queuing for tickets today... How did you do this?’
‘Pulled strings,’ he answered honestly. ‘And I have a picnic in here for us to have first.’
One thing he could do was organise.
‘Thank you.’ She stepped in front of him, looking up at him. ‘I mean it. Thanks for taking me to all these places today. I have had the best time.’
So had he. But honestly? The best was yet to come.
‘You just thanked me?’ He opted to tease her—mainly to stop himself from pulling her close and plundering her mouth the way he’d been thinking of for hours now. ‘Have I finally redeemed myself in your eyes?’
‘Hmm.’ She put a hand to her chin and pretended to think about it. ‘Maybe one more night of sexual slavery will do it.’
James groaned, hard and hurting. ‘Don’t torment me. We have hours of Shakespeare to sit through first.’
He was almost bursting out of his skin with desire for her. Why had he agreed to the no-PDA idea? Madness.
She was aware of it too—sending him sly looks. Her cheeks and lips reddened, her eyes big and sparkling. She was a minx. He knew she was sitting just slightly too close, knew she was acutely clued into his physical discomfort. And she was maxing it out for the fun of it.
Yeah, she was trouble.
He tried to concentrate on the play, truly he did. But it got about forty per cent of his attention tops. Mostly he sat watching her, watching the play. He delighted in her delight. And he couldn’t wait to have her home alone and all his.
If they stayed this busy, it’d be okay. The two weeks would go by fast enough and then he’d get back into the usual routine—work, work, work, sleep. But for now he tried to think up more plans: what else they could do for free—or for very little—in New York. Only he kept glancing at her, his awareness of her so acute it hurt.
Finally the play ended. They walked through the park to the condo. The air was warm enough but the atmosphere between them sparked as if an electrical storm were raging. They didn’t speak. He was too ragged and near the edge to manage it and he could hear the little shallow breaths she was taking. Was she as keyed up as he?
It wasn’t possible.
But as they rode the elevator up to his condo they faced each other—each with a back to the wall, keeping that distance between them by tacit agreement. Because the second he touched her he’d be out of control.
She knew—her eyes gleamed with that knowledge. She was the same. She was already on fire—because her hands clutched her dress. He hissed out a breath as she lifted the hem up her legs a couple of inches. She leaned right back against the wall, her legs parted. Her breasts rose and fell quickly as she lifted her dress higher still.
‘I want you,’ she said.
James swore, grabbing her wrist and striding out of the elevator the second the doors slid open. He unlocked the condo as quickly as he could, pulling her inside and slamming the door. He hauled her close and kissed her like the sex-starved animal he was. Furious satisfaction roared through him as she slid her arms around him and clung, opening instantly for him. Quickly, desperately, he worked to undo his trousers enough to release his agonised cock and sheath it, kissing her still, claiming the cavern of her mouth with his tongue.
He needed to claim all of her.
He pushed her back against the wall and dropped to his knees. Thankful she wore a dress. Thankful she moaned and spread her legs and let him. Just thankful.
He skimmed his hands up her inner thighs, his haste fuelled by her breathlessness, her willingness, her revealing heat. Beneath her dress, he pulled aside her panties and kissed her intimately, tasting her readiness, loving the clenching of her sex as she came. He loved her quick response, loved that he had to secure her hips in a firm hold because she writhed so wildly. Dominant, victorious instincts flared. He shredded her knickers so he could delve deeper with his fingers and tongue. He loved to make her take more—give her more of that unbearable pleasure until she bent double, her hands tearing his hair as she screamed for mercy. And screamed in release. Then he just gave her all of him. Pulling her to the floor and driving home.
The expression on her face when he entered her... The unutterable pleasure of being inside her... He was possessed of the primal demand to thrust, ride, own. She was his woman—to pleasure, to hold, to enjoy. Vitality, victory flowed through him as he entered her realm. Their chemistry was nuclear powerful, their bodies brilliantly compatible. He’d never tire of the sexy sighs she released as he wound her higher again. He gritted his teeth, bucking like a wild animal, driving them both full speed to oblivion.
It was minutes before he could see again, could breathe easily again. With a rueful smile he rolled off her, kicking his legs free of his trousers. He scooped her into his arms, loving the way she clung—not just with her arms, but with her dazed eyes.
No wonder people got fixated on sex. Who’d have thought it could be so restorative? Was he really that shallow that all he needed was regular sex to keep him happy? But this was vastly different from the wild-oats, different-woman-a-week phase of not that long ago. Different in that this was with the same woman.
His gut tightened. No, it wasn’t just sex. It was sex with Caitlin. And there was no one in the world like Caitlin. He carried her up to bed, running his hand down her smooth, pale skin, appreciating the way she arched into his touch as he placed her on the mattress. Undeniably pretty, yes, but also smart, spirited. Sassy.
And sad. It appeared in her eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking. In the moments before he touched her and made her forget everything. Or before he teased her about something and made her laugh. He liked it when she laughed.
So he ran his fingers down the vee of her dress now, teasing as he unbuttoned it and got her blessedly naked. He pinned her down to kiss her and summon the sighs and smile he found so addictive. He loved that it was so easy.
Nothing felt as good as her climaxing around him, her cries filling his ears, her hot damp body collapsing as he wrung the last drops of tension from her. She was as eager for abandonment as he, passionately throwing herself into the heat that flared between them. Physical was everything. It wasn’t always fast; sometimes he made it a slow drawn-out tease.
And it was always pure ecstasy.
