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  Her bare, overheated, aching-for-his-touch skin.

  “What?” He slid the damp heat of his mouth up to press a kiss to the corner of her lips. “What didn’t you imagine?”

  She took a long, shuddery breath. “That being with you would make me feel…like this.”

  Like so much else in her life, in the past her displays of sexual desire had been mostly a pretense, an act she’d put on because it was expected.

  But not this time. Not with him. She wanted, she needed, she ached, and all with a fervor that was demolishing the very foundation of the walls she’d once depended on to protect herself.

  She didn’t care. What mattered was the heat from his body blazing against her own, the magic of his mouth at her throat, this unfamiliar craving…for Gabriel. Squeezing her eyes shut, she reached down and managed to release the fastener of her bra. Then she held her breath as he pushed the lacy cups out of his way, covering the soft mounds in his hands as her breasts sprang free.

  She moaned at the sheer pleasure of his touch. Then moaned again as he began to shape her sensitive nipples with his thumbs and forefingers. Time dissolved as the stiff little points grew even harder and longer, her need for him stronger.

  Desperation started to consume her. She rotated her hips in a mindless attempt to alleviate the ache deep at her core, and felt a thrill of anticipation as she registered the hot, heavy weight of his erection nudging against her. She heard his breath hitch, and she executed another little bump and grind, pouring gasoline on the fire with an instinct she never dreamed she possessed.

  “Please,” she entreated. “This is…Oh, Gabe, it isn’t enough.” Turning her head, she pressed hot kisses to the corner of his eye, the top of his cheekbone, the curve of his ear. “I want more. I want you.”

  “Dammit, Mallory.” He no longer sounded the least bit amused. “You’re not playing fair.”

  “Don’t you get it?” To her chagrin, her voice trembled the slightest bit. “I’m not playing at all.”

  He swore. Yet even as his heartfelt profanity sliced through the air, he was whirling her around and sweeping her into his arms.

  “What’re you doing?” she exclaimed, twining her arms around his neck as he began carrying her down the hallway.

  “I want to see you in my bed. God knows, I’ve pictured you there often enough.” Slowing, he bent his head and slanted his mouth over hers in a kiss that was all teeth, tongue and carnal intent.

  By the time he straightened, she was dizzy with desire. Burying her face in his throat, she held on tight as he bounded up the wide, curving staircase that punched upward to a second-story gallery.

  Not the least out of breath, he crossed a small landing and strode into what was obviously the master suite. As he flipped on a lamp with a thrust of his elbow at the wall switch, she had a quick impression of high ceilings, a stone fireplace and a wide bed covered with a dark glossy spread.

  Then he set her on her feet and her surroundings ceased to matter. Her attention was all on his starkly masculine face, with the obvious hunger stamped on his hard mouth and the heat glittering in his heavy-lidded eyes.

  And oh, that body. He was all rangy lines and solid muscle, with wide, olive-bronze shoulders, powerfully curved arms and small, flat nipples set in the slope of rock-hard pectoral muscles. Then there was a ripple of washboard abs covered by more taut, golden skin and a shallow dimple of a navel dotting the slash of silky hair that disappeared like an inverted exclamation mark into his briefs.

  Briefs that appeared to be strained to the limit by the heavy jut of his cotton-covered sex.

  The room suddenly seemed far too hot. And to be lacking something essential. Like air.

  “Mallory.”

  The sound of his voice jerked her gaze to his face. “What?” She took a deep, desperately needed breath.

  His eyes, so hot only seconds earlier, were now hooded, his mouth grim. “If you’re thinking of calling this off, do it now.”

  Shocked, she realized he meant it. That despite everything they’d already shared, and the indisputable proof that he was more than ready to finish what she’d started, he’d stop right now and let her walk away if that’s what she wished.

  Except there was nothing in the world she desired less. Not with this craving for him hazing her brain, this persistent ache deep inside that she was trusting him to alleviate. “Are you crazy?” Tossing back her hair, she drew herself up, trying hard to ignore the fact that she was clad in nothing but her panties and high heels. “I told you what I want. But if you’d rather pass, I’ll just go gather up my dress and—”

  The proud little lift of her chin demolished one more wall in the crumbling fortress of Gabe’s control. “The hell you will,” he gritted out, taking half a second to peel down his briefs before lifting her off her feet and tumbling her onto the mattress.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, he thought a little wildly as he followed her down to feast on the soft, yielding sweetness of her mouth. He shouldn’t be so overwhelmed by this driving desire to claim her. Or be burning up with the fevered need to watch her face when he buried himself deep, deep inside her. Not when his plan had been to take it slow, to see to her satisfaction at least once, maybe twice, before even thinking about his own.

  Only that wasn’t going to happen. She was making him so hot and crazy that if he didn’t find a way to reel it back in soon he was afraid he was going to disappoint them both.

  Making space for himself between her thighs, he slid down to kiss her throat, the smooth line of her collarbone, the valley between her breasts. Shaping one lush globe in his hand, he paid homage to the soft undercurve, the plump top swell, holding off as long as he could before he finally zeroed in on her thrusting nipples.

  “God, you’re pretty. All over, but especially here. Your breasts are the perfect size for my hands. While these—” he lashed one stiff, erect tip with the end of his tongue while gently rolling the other between his fingertips “—are the perfect shape for my mouth.”

  “Gabriel!” Digging her hands into the bedspread, she held on as if her life depended on it as he finally settled his lips over her and sucked.

  Lord, she was sweet. Sweet and chock-full of surprises, not at all the woman he’d always thought she was. The nymph, the siren, the worldly sophisticate—it was pretty clear it had all been an act. While this Mallory, his Mallory, had an unexpected vulnerability that satisfied a need in him he hadn’t known he possessed.

  By the time he raised his head, they were both gasping for air. Pushing up on one arm, he allowed himself a second to look at her, the finely modeled cheekbones, the delicate chin, those breasts, full and round, the rosy nipples wet from his mouth. Then he started to reach for her panties, only to freeze as her lashes fluttered up and her hand gripped his arm.

  “Wait.” Wetting her lips, she fought for breath. “Let me—I want…” Abandoning speech with a frustrated huff, she simply let go of his arm and let her fingers roam over his chest to explore the tight bead of his nipple, the corded sinew and muscle that ridged his torso. Then her seeking fingertips skated along his hip bone, dipped into his navel.

  Brushed slowly against his iron-hard erection.

  He jerked, gritting his teeth as that light, uncertain touch alone pushed him closer to the edge. “Mallory—”

  Ignoring his strangled warning, she took a deep breath and closed her hand around him, measuring him with the grip of her palm for the barest instant before her gaze flashed up to meet his. “Wow,” she said breathlessly, before once more dampening her lips. “Now, Gabriel. Now, please.”

  The stark request propelled him right over the edge he’d been dancing on from the second he’d watched her hair come down. Rearing up on his knees, he slid the thong off her body, then wrestled a condom out of the nightstand, swearing at the tremor in his hands as he suited up.

  The next second he was settling back into the notch of her thighs, smoothing a hand over her warm, wet center
. Finding her slick and ready, he shifted his weight forward, fighting not to just plunge himself inside her as the tightness of her body slowly gave way to his first blunt probing.

  His hands clenched against the mattress at the slick, hot squeezing sensation of her body gloving his. “Okay?” he gritted out.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Good.” Pushing deeper and deeper, he lowered his head to kiss the underside of her jaw, the point of her chin, the sweetness of her lips.

  Her hands came around him, stroking his sides, his back, flexing against the base of his spine. “Except…”

  “What?”

  Moaning softly, she shifted restlessly beneath him, her teeth strafing his bottom lip. “I need…I want…”

  “What, sweetheart?”

  “I want you.” Digging her fingernails into his butt, she pushed against him, arching and rocking…“Deeper.”

  His shoulders bunching, he drove forward. Pulling back, he waited a beat and repeated that hammering stroke, only to freeze for a moment as she made a frantic sound and her hips slammed up.

  Her whole body tightened. Then the silky tightness of her sex squeezed around him, gripping his length as she cried his name and to his shock his own climax came roaring up, tearing a harsh sound of disbelief from his throat as it slammed into him without warning.

  Pumping his hips, he poured himself into her, his whole body clenching when she gave a second startled cry and came again.

  Spent and unaccountably shaken, every muscle in his body went lax. He collapsed against her, driving her into the mattress, where they lay shivering together, fused from cheek to thigh.

  When he could finally dredge up the strength, he carefully rolled them onto their sides, not yet ready to give up his place inside her. He let his mind drift for a while, forcing himself not to think but to simply enjoy his own unfamiliar lassitude, the faint scent of Mallory’s shampoo, the sluggish return of his muscle control.

  Eventually, he opened his eyes. Studying the striking face across from his own, he was struck by how much she’d revealed to him tonight. And how much he had left to learn.

  “Gabriel?” she murmured, her voice still raspy with pleasure. “Are you awake?”

  He smoothed an errant tendril of hair behind her ear with his finger, one of the few parts of his body that still seemed to be fully functional. “Sure.”

  She forced her lashes up, although it clearly took an effort. “Can you move? More than your finger?”

  “Absolutely.” If he wanted to. Which at the moment, he didn’t.

  “Do you think—would you mind—could you get these darned shoes off my feet? I can’t believe I just made love with them on.”

  Then again…Pushing up on one elbow, he let his gaze take a leisurely stroll down her lithe, slender body to the only thing she still wore, her black-and-pink stiletto heels.

  She had more dips and swells than a carnival ride, and like a teenager viewing that first swift drop off the highest point of a roller coaster, the longer he looked, the more his exhaustion faded, replaced by a jolt of pure anticipation.

  The effect on his body was immediate and impossible to hide, and made Mallory’s eyes suddenly go wide.

  “If you insist,” he murmured as he moved down to the foot of the bed, slid her shoes from her feet, then reverently placed them on the floor. “Although personally, sweetheart, I think we ought to get these babies bronzed.” Wrapping his fingers around her ankles, he eased them over his shoulders.

  Then pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee, he took the first step leading them toward the long, thrilling drop he had planned.

  Seven

  M allory surfaced slowly.

  Stretching languorously on whisper-soft sheets, she gave a sigh of pleasure at the firm resilience of the mattress beneath her and the perfect weight of the silk blanket enveloping her. Just for a moment, she thought she must be back in her own plush bed in the airy bedroom of the house where she’d grown up.

  Until she stretched again and the muscles in her thighs protested. Waking more fully, she went stock-still as she registered the unfamiliar tenderness at her core and the events of last night filled her head.

  And knew without a single doubt that she was in Gabriel’s house, in Gabriel’s room. In Gabriel’s bed.

  Her eyes snapped open. Taking one hurried look around she realized three things.

  It was morning.

  She was alone.

  And she didn’t regret one moment of what they’d done last night. Whatever you wanted to call it—and having sex seemed far too bloodless a term to describe the power, the passion, the tenderness she and Gabe had shared—it had opened her eyes to a world she’d never known existed.

  Not once in her twenty-eight years had she suspected that she could feel such need, much less inspire it. And that with the right person nothing that brought them pleasure would feel wrong or embarrassing or awkward. Or that afterward she’d feel complete rather than diminished the way she always had before.

  It clearly called for a complete overhaul of her naive assumption that one time with Gabe would be enough. Because now that she knew what was possible, she wanted…more.

  Much more.

  Yet as she stared up at the coffered ceiling overhead, she realized she wasn’t sure how that would work, since she’d never had an actual, full-blown affair before.

  Although, really…How hard could it be?

  The thought brought a foolish little smile to her face. And even that was all right, she decided as she sat up. After all, it was beyond ridiculous to get embarrassed over a mental image when you’d cherished every last moment…and inch…of the reality.

  Combing her hair back with her fingers, she tucked the sheet beneath her arms and leaned back against the headboard, looking around with interest.

  In the dawn light limning the edges of the large shaded windows, she saw that the bedspread was a rich dark green, not black as she’d thought the night before. The rest of the room also reflected Gabe’s taste, from a burnished walnut antique armoire dominating one wall to a large black on white painting above the fireplace, its stark, curving lines proving on closer examination to be the barest outline of a voluptuous nude.

  An oversize chair was positioned to one side of the fireplace, a paperback book opened spine up on the table beside it. Her dress and underthings were draped across the matching ottoman, her shoes placed neatly beside it.

  The dog, whose name it turned out was Moose, and whose acquaintance she’d made when Gabe had finally remembered to go down and let the animal in last night, was nowhere to be seen.

  There was a black nylon carry-on bag parked by the door.

  She was considering the implication of the latter when steps sounded on the stairs. Then Gabriel strode in, fully dressed, a cup of coffee in his hand.

  His gaze immediately homed in on her. “Good. You’re awake.” Striding over, he set the cup on the nightstand beside her and sat, the mattress dipping under his weight.

  Feeling just the slightest bit self-conscious in light of the disparity in their attire, she automatically tilted up her chin. “You look nice.”

  His gaze skimmed her face, her bare throat, the shadow of cleavage showing above the sheet. His green eyes darkened. “So do you.” Leaning forward, he anchored his fingers in her hair and claimed her mouth.

  God, but the man could kiss, she thought, as his hard lips slanted softly over hers, inciting a riot of feelings. Forgetting to hold on to the sheet, forgetting about everything but him and the sensations he made her feel, she parted her lips and drank him in, a now-familiar tangle of desire starting to twist through her.

  Then almost before it started, it was over and he was pulling away. Still cradling her face, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lips before finally dropping his hand. “The coffee’s for you.”

  “Thanks.” She made no move to take it, just pulled the sheet back up and waited. Even Moose the dog, who hadn’t impressed her as
being the smartest mutt on the block, would’ve figured out by now that something was up.

  “Look, I hate like hell to do this, but a situation’s come up and I have to go out of town.”

  Well, of course. That explained the bag. As well as the air of edgy energy that surrounded him and the leashed tension he was doing his best to hide. He wasn’t on the verge of telling her “it’s been nice, now don’t let the door hit you in the fanny on your way out.” He had business.

  Suddenly able to breathe again, she loosened her grip on the sheet. “Where are you going?”

  “Belgrade, to meet my brother Dominic. And I’m afraid I have to take off for the airport soon if I’m going to make my flight.”

  “Oh.” She sat up a little straighter. “In that case, you’d better move so I can get dressed—”

  He didn’t budge. “There’s no reason to rush. As a matter of fact—” reaching into his pant’s pocket, he extracted a silver ring with a pair of keys on it, along with what looked to be a business card, dropping them next to the coffee mug “—you’re more than welcome to stay.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Between the fridge and the freezer there’s plenty to eat, the Jag’s got a full tank of gas, and I’ll leave my gas card for you in case you need a refill. The way it looks now, the earliest I’ll be back will be the end of the week. So why not take advantage and make yourself at home?”

  Why not indeed? It would be wonderful, Mallory thought, to spend more than one night in a real bed, to do her laundry without having to go to the laundromat, to have a car to drive instead of a bus to catch. To take an honest-to-God hot shower without running out of water and to sleep without being constantly awakened by people shouting or babies crying.

  Except…then what? It was already difficult to transition each day from the affluent world at work to her gritty existence on Lattimer Street. And although there was nothing she’d like better than to move as soon as she could, she was currently deeper in the hole than she’d been when she’d been hired, thanks to the price of taxis and incidentals and because she’d had to invest in some clothes since too little in her wardrobe had been business appropriate.