He thrust deeper, harder, and she gasped, her body arching greedily under his.
Lifting his shoulders a fraction farther, enough to appreciate the way her body, all sumptuous curves and hot flushed skin, undulated with each thrust, absorbed each forceful penetration as he rode her, filled her, he watched as he pushed her step by slow step closer to sensual fulfillment.
He felt the tension inside her coil, felt her tighten beneath him, her thighs gripping his flanks as release flickered and beckoned. Her ragged breathing filled his ears, a softer sound overlaying his own raspy breaths.
She reached for him, tried to pull him down to her.
Without breaking their rhythm, he shifted his hips, pressing more intimately between hers, then thrust deeper still, harder still.
She gasped, tugged, but the sight of her held him. Eventually lifting his gaze to her face, he saw the glimmer of her eyes beneath her lashes.
Alicia studied his face, licked her lips, felt her world teeter. She was so close to that joyous edge, yet, as always since that first engagement, no matter how desperate the moment, he held to his control, waiting, watching, certain to follow her, yet still…
“Come with me.” She struggled to find breath enough to add, “Now.”
His black eyes, until then hooded, opened wide— enough for her to realize she’d asked something no other ever had.
Her nerves shivered, started to unravel. Dragging in a breath, she lifted a hand to his face, traced his cheek. “Be with me. Please.”
She wasn’t sure how, but she knew what she wanted. Needed.
He knew, too. He gave a shuddering sigh; the tension rippling through him increased, hardening his body as it rode against hers, thrust into hers.
Their gazes remained locked. He shifted his weight, freed a hand, held it open close by her head. “Give me your hand.”
She did, shifting her hand from his face, watching as he interdigitated his fingers with hers, then closed them, locking their palms. Then he pressed their linked hands into the pillow.
“Wrap your legs about my waist.”
She could barely make out the gravelly command. The silk sheets caressed her skin as she complied, then gasped as he shifted fully over her and drove deep. Her spine bowed, but his weight pinned her, held her down as his hips flexed in a faster, more urgent, more compulsive rhythm.
For an instant, gasping and breathless, she rode it, then she felt his eyes on her face, met his black gaze, once again screened. Felt the flames inside rise, coalesce, fuse to an inferno.
He lowered his head, drove into her harder, faster, more powerfully.
“Now.” He breathed the word against her lips, then took them, took her mouth as the conflagration roared— and caught them. Overwhelmed them. Consumed them.
As one. Together, as she’d asked.
Tony felt the reins he’d released whip away, sensed them cinder, all control sundered and gone. For only the second time in his life, he plunged into the heart of that familiar fire with a woman, by her side. Her hand was his anchor; he clung to it as her body tightened beneath his, closed powerfully around his, hot, scalding, driving him on, taking him with her into the world beyond the flames, into the pleasure of sexual satiation.
If she wished, so he would; they whirled, joined more intimately than he’d ever been with any other, not just their bodies but their awarenesses fused, experiencing together, simultaneously soaring. Higher, then yet higher.
Until they were both gasping, bodies locked and straining. Until they were there, twined together at the peak.
Until they fell, hearts thundering, senses merged, glory pouring through them. Souls as one.
She was his. Totally, completely, beyond recall.
The words drifted of their own volition across Alicia’s brain.
Her body, trapped beneath his, thighs vulnerably wide with him buried so deep inside her, was no longer hers.
Her lips curved in sleepy satisfaction. No matter her thoughts, her will, her determination, logic had no place here. Despite all uncertainty, despite the nebulous unease that even now she could sense, a fog hovering just beyond the bed, even now, despite all, her heart rejoiced.
Lifting the hand he hadn’t claimed, she laid it on his hair, then gently stroked. Let her fingers play among the silky strands.
Let her emotions have their way.
Let them well, and fill her mind, fill her throat and her chest, fill her heart, and overflow. Let them slide through her veins and sink into her flesh, a part of her, forever.
He lay heavy upon her; she delighted in his weight. Within her, the warmth of his seed radiated a glow of deep and abiding pleasure. She’d given him all she was; tonight, he’d taken, claimed, but when she’d wanted and needed, he had surrendered and given, too.
No matter what else the days might bring, tonight, he’d been with her.
As totally hers as she’d been his.
The gentle tangling of Alicia’s fingers in his hair drew Tony back to earth. To a world that was almost as wonderful as the one they’d visited; her body was a sensual cushion beneath him, her breasts beneath his chest, her hips and thighs cradling his, their bodies still intimately joined.
He was more comfortable than he’d ever thought to be, not just in body but on all other levels. Physically, mentally, emotionally, he was at peace, at home in her arms. Where he was meant to be.
His satisfaction was so profound it was frightening. It lay like a golden sea about him, deep, timeless, ageless, weighing on his limbs, soothing his mind, infinitely precious.
Eyes closed, he savored it, held it, let its waves lap about him—and tried not to think of ever losing it.
Eventually, he felt forced to stir, to draw back from that contented sea. Lifting from Alicia, he ignored her sleepy protest; she seemed as addicted to the moment as he. Settling beside her, he drew her to him, against him, brushing aside her long hair so he could see her face. He looked into her eyes, shadowed pools, mysterious in the night.
Marry me tomorrow.
The words burned his tongue; all the reasons he shouldn’t say them—not yet—doused them. Instead, bending his head, he touched his lips to hers, and spoke from his heart.
“Je t’aime.” He breathed the words across her lips; closing his eyes, he tasted them. “Je t’adore.”
He wasn’t even conscious of speaking in French; it had always been the language of love to him.
She touched his cheek, returned his kiss, soft, clinging.
Their lips parted; he drew breath, softly asked, “Is everything here as you wish? If there’s anything you need—”
She stopped him, laying her fingers across his lips. “There’s nothing—everything’s perfect.” She hesitated, then added, “I like your house.”
They were speaking in whispers, as if not to disturb the blanket of shared pleasure that still surrounded them. It was the deepest part of the night, the small hours of the morning, yet neither was sleepy. Sated, content, they lay in each other’s arms, limbs tangled, hands occasionally touching, brushing, stroking.
Time drifted, and with it the tide of their loving. It slowly turned. Returned. Alicia didn’t think, but simply flowed with it, knew he did the same.
Effortless. Their communication in that moment needed no words, no careful phrases. It was carried by their hands, their lips, mouths, tongues, every square inch of their bodies.
They moved over and around, worshipping, first one, then the other. Pleasure bloomed, ecstasy blossomed.