This time, she wouldn’t fall in love with him.
This time, she’d be prepared for him to walk away. Safe.
His warm breath rushed over her parted lips. “If you had a choice to make tonight, would you, Red? Or would you step back and be safe, making no decision at all?”
The opera and her past and his touch spun together and dragged her under. She reached out and gripped his shoulders, digging her nails fiercely into the hard muscles. “This is my choice,” she whispered fiercely. “This is about sex, pure and simple. I admit I want you tonight, but it changes nothing between us. I’m not rewriting a second review, no matter how good the orgasm is.”
A flash of pain flared in his eyes, then quickly disappeared. “It will change everything between us.” His finger gently stroked her cheek.
“I won’t do the review.”
“I don’t care about the review.” The tenderness turned, and he thrust all ten fingers into her hair and forced her head back. “I care about this.”
His mouth took hers. Rough and primitive, he thrust his tongue deep inside and took. A moan rose in her throat and she gave herself up to him as he plundered her mouth and every dark secret she kept. She arched up and invited him to take more, halfway drunk on the taste and feel of pure male need.
He pushed her deep into the pillows. One thigh parted her legs wide for free access. Her breasts swelled in anticipation, and she reached out to tug ineffectively at his shirt, her hands trembling as she tried to undo the buttons.
“Take it off,” he ground out. His teeth nipped at her lower lip, then bathed the swollen flesh with his tongue.
“I’m trying, but you have to pull the shirt over your head.” Again, she tugged, and had a quick impulse to tear and see if the material parted like she’d heard at those male stripper shows.
“No, the dress.” His hands coasted down her body and rested on her ribcage. His thumbs brushed the tips of her breasts and coaxed them to rise even more under the fabric. “I can’t find the damn zipper, and in about three seconds I’m just going to rip.”
“I’ll lift up and you unzip it. But only if you take off your shirt.”
“Deal.”
He divested the dress from her body in one swoop, leaving her clad in black lace underwear and silk stockings. He sucked in his breath and Miranda caught the gleam of appreciation that made her burn even hotter.
“Crap, I want you so bad. I keep remembering your face when you come, how sweet and hot and wet you are.”
His steel-blue gaze raked over every inch of skin until her panties grew damp. “Please.”
“Oh, I intend to, baby.” He tore the shirt off and lowered himself over her. The soft velvety feel of the sofa cushioned her back. The hard length of his erection throbbed against her thigh. He leaned over and brushed his lips over one tight crest, playing, teasing, until he opened his mouth and sucked.
She gasped and threw her head back. He moved to the other breast, licking with firm movements that drove her toward the edge of insanity. “Not tonight,” she tore out. “Gavin, don’t tease me tonight. I want you now.”
He muttered something under his breath—either a curse or a prayer—and pressed his palm over her throbbing center. “You’re making me crazy. God, Miranda, make me take you to bed. I can’t hold out much longer.”
“No, right here.” She ripped at his belt and the rasp of the zipper echoed in the air.
“I was supposed to take this slow, make it perfect for you.” He seemed to struggle and lose the battle as he slipped one finger under the elastic edge of her panties. “I was supposed to give you foreplay.” He plunged deep, and liquid warmth rushed past to ease his entrance. She cried out at the pulses of pleasure. “I was supposed to seduce you slowly until you begged me to take you, and you couldn’t give a damn about the past.” His thumb rubbed over the swollen nub with a steady pressure. Sobs escaped her lips and she reached out to wrap her fingers around his penis, guiding him closer.
“Now.” She arched up as he did something incredibly erotic between her thighs. “I can’t wait. Damn you, take me now.”
He swore savagely. “Jesus, let that condom still be in my frickin’ pocket.” He reached over and grabbed his pants, tearing through the material until the foil package fell out. In seconds, he was sheathed.
He tugged down her panties and removed his fingers. Rearing up and spreading her legs wide, he poised at her entrance. A tiny gleam of truth pierced through the fogginess, reminding her he was about to re-claim a part of her she’d thought to keep separate. Fear choked her and she moved to push him away, her mouth open to tell him no.
But it was too late.
Gavin surged inside of her with one strong thrust.
Fire.
Fullness.
Completion.
He interlaced his fingers through hers. Stared deeply into her eyes. And moved. Again. And again.
With each thrust he took her toward the edge, until every inner muscle clenched and squeezed him tight inside her. The journey was familiar, but this time he held her gaze every step of the way, giving himself as freely as she had given her own self three years ago. The last fragile wall trembled precariously, but she fought with a fierceness she taught herself to cultivate since he left her. The emotions raged between them, pushing them forward, and then the orgasm hit. Fragments of pleasure exploded around her. She cried out and held on, and soon his hoarse shout echoed in the air as they slipped over the edge together.
Miranda knew then she’d lied to herself.
She was still in love with him.
…
Gavin cradled her in his arms and pressed a kiss against her temple. Limbs intertwined, they lay together on the sofa and drifted lazily in and out of sleep. He’d made a half-hearted attempt to make it to the bedroom, but his lady only murmured something unintelligible and snuggled closer. He decided to give up the battle. Besides, the close quarters allowed him to cushion every part of her delicious body relaxed against him.
He buried his face in a mass of fiery waves and breathed in the scent of strawberries. Making love to Miranda Storme was an experience that changed a man forever. He grew hard again at the image of her head thrown back in passion, her slick heat dampening him as he thrust inside her body, the cries he wrung from her lips as they reached the peak.
A thought skittered across his memory. There’d always been a deep connection between them during their lovemaking, but he remembered the flash of fear in her eyes right before he took her.
She’d held back.
He frowned. At the last moment, she’d fought her own surrender. She may have given him her body tonight, but her heart was still firmly encased behind that wall. He wondered if he’d ever be able to scale it.
“Gavin?”
He shook off his thoughts and tightened his arms around her. “What, baby?”
“Were you scared the night you saved that man’s life?”
His lips brushed her temple. “I told Brando I was scared out of my mind. But I learned a lot of things during my time in India. I watched people dying all around me. Poverty, disease, starvation. Made me crazy because I felt helpless to stop it, and I kept railing about injustice and fate and fairness. Suddenly, all my goals for power and money seemed useless.”
“How did you deal with this realization?”
“I finally stopped focusing on myself and looked around. You know what I found out? The people in India practice acceptance. Surrender. They live their life moment to moment, and if something bad happens, they understand it’s their own karma. I decided I wanted that type of peace.”