by Amelia Autin
He wanted her, too. Now. This very minute. His body didn’t lie, and she knew he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. “Alec...” That’s all she said. Just his name. Would it be enough? They seemed to operate on the same wavelength in so many different ways, would he understand the invitation she couldn’t put into words?
His brown eyes darkened as his whole body tightened. Then he was kissing her the way he’d kissed her on the jogging path. The way he’d kissed her in the cathedral. With a man’s whole purpose behind it. A man’s ardent desire.
He was so strong! She couldn’t get over how powerfully he held her as he covered her face with kisses, whispering his name for her: “Angel, oh God, Angel!” Intoxicating kisses that sapped her strength and made her tremble with longing. Longing to feel his bare skin beneath her hands, to finally know what his muscles felt like with nothing covering them.
From thought to deed. “I want you naked,” she breathed, tugging at the morning coat he still wore, and he obliged, stripping it off and dropping it on the floor. His shoulder holster came next, and when he shrugged out of it, she took it from him and carefully placed it on the end table beside the sofa. He surprised her when he bent and removed his ankle holster, which she also took from him and put down beside his primary gun. When she turned back, he’d already stripped off his tie and was unbuttoning his shirt from the top down, but he wasn’t going fast enough for Angelina. She tugged his shirttails out and began unbuttoning from the bottom up. When their hands met in the middle, Alec laughed softly, and after a second, she did, too.
His shirt disappeared, and for some reason, Angelina couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Unlike her one and only other lover, Alec’s chest was smooth, nearly hairless, but tanned. She’d already noted he didn’t have the milky complexion and freckles that usually accompanied red hair, and now she saw his tan extended...everywhere. At least, everywhere she could see so far.
She flexed her hands and placed them on his chest. Tentatively at first, but gaining courage for a bolder approach, she stroked and kneaded, feeling his muscles bunch and tighten under her ministrations. “You have a beautiful chest,” she told him, laughing a little under her breath. “I cannot seem to stop touching it.”
Her words—or was it her touch?—seemed to have a powerful effect on him, because he tensed and his nipples beaded. Then his hands were on the belt of her robe, tugging impatiently at the knot she’d tied so securely. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he told her, the hard edge to his tone letting her know exactly what she was doing to him. It was a heady feeling.
The knot gave way finally. Her robe fell open and he pushed it off her completely, letting it drop to the floor in an untidy heap. Then his hands were doing to her what she was doing to him, and—Oh God, she thought as she tried to drag in enough air to survive, because his caresses were robbing her of every normal function. Desperate for more—more of everything, more of Alec—she fumbled with his belt, but he forestalled her there, too, unbuckling, unzipping, heeling off his shoes, stripping off his pants until he stood naked before her. Strong. Erect. Impossibly aroused.
The throbbing between Angelina’s legs grew more intense, making her fully aware of her own needs for the first time in nearly forever. She tried to drag Alec down onto the sofa with her, but he shook his head. “I’ll be damned if our first time is going to be on a sofa,” he said roughly. “And it’s not going to be quick.” He cupped her face in his hands and captured her lips, luring her tongue with his. He finally let her go when she whimpered with need, and he whispered, “Hell no, Angel. This is going to take all night.”
All night. The words swirled in her mind, one word chasing after the other. All. Night. All. Night. All. Night. Wasn’t that what she wanted? One night to forget not only what she didn’t want to remember, but that she wasn’t free the way most women were free? One night to let herself experience everything Alec offered? Every touch. Every taste. Every sensation. One whole night—or what was left of it—to live the fantasy.
“Yes, please.” Was that her voice? That soft, yielding, feminine sound?
She’d thought her meek acquiescence would make him happy, but she was wrong. His face hardened until the bones stood out, and the sudden intensity in his expression made her eyes shift under his. He caught her chin with one hand and forced her to look at him. “I’m going to please you, Angel,” he said softly but implacably. “I’m going to please you until you scream my name. And you’re going to please me...until I scream your name. That’s the only way this is going to work between us. You’re going to tell me what you like...every step of the way. You’re going to tell me what you want. And I’ll do the same for you. And when we’re done, we’ll start all over again. And again. And again. Until neither of us can take any more.”
Angelina shivered and her nipples tightened unbearably as she realized Alec wasn’t like any other man she’d known in her life. He was...unique. He didn’t want soft and yielding. He seemed to want her just as she was. Tough. Uncompromising. Determined. Strong. He respected those qualities in her, because...because he was the same way.
She searched his eyes, his face, and knew it was the truth. He wanted exactly those things from her she’d been afraid would always prevent her from having what most other women had. She would never have to hide her true self from Alec. Never have to pretend to be someone else. It was a freeing revelation.
Then sudden fear whipped through her. Not fear of Alec, but of herself. Fear she wouldn’t be satisfied with one night. That she’d want more. That one night with Alec would only make her crave him like an addict craved a drug. That she would want forever.
But she couldn’t let fear rule her. She never had. She never would. She would take this night with Alec because she wanted it...wanted him. That was all. And she wanted what Alec had promised her—she wanted him to make her scream his name.
Even more, she desperately wanted to make him scream her name. That thought was an aphrodisiac all its own, that a man like him—so strong, so powerful—would surrender control to her, mind and body. Her eyes gleamed at the thought. “Yes,” she promised, running her short, unvarnished nails over his taut muscles, accepting everything he offered...for one night only. “I will make you scream.”
* * *
Angelina couldn’t bear it. Not one more minute. She writhed beneath Alec’s tongue, her hands fisted in the cotton sheets, her body arching, arching, as if she could dislodge his hold on her and escape that way. But he held her hips firm, his tongue making forays into her core, then back up to tease and torment the little nub that throbbed and swelled and threatened to overwhelm her desire to hold back, to not let him—
Then she exploded, crying his name, wanting it to be over but also wanting it to last forever. La petite mort—the little death—as the French called it. And it was. It was.
Alec refused to stop until she was shaking and trembling, until she collapsed boneless and sobbing for breath, unable to do anything else. Then he slid up her body, grabbed a condom from the handful he’d placed on the nightstand, rolled it on and thrust deep. Angelina came again almost immediately, her nails digging into his buttocks, pulling him tightly into her body as he flexed and thrust, flexed and thrust. Again. Then again. She came one last time seconds before he came, too—a powerful orgasmic explosion that tore her name from his throat.
Alec lay there for a few seconds, his eyes closed as he dragged one shuddering breath after another into his body. Then he withdrew carefully, disposed of the condom and settled back onto the bed. He tugged gently until she lay with her back against him, one of his strong arms curved around her waist to anchor her in place.
She thought he was dozing because his breathing was deep and even, but then he whispered in her ear in Zakharan. Sexy words. Incredibly intimate words. At first, her body reacted as if he’d caressed her— nipples tightening, a throbbing in her loins�
��but then she suddenly wondered how many other Zakharian women he’d slept with since his arrival...and which one had taught him those words.
He must have noticed her slight stiffening, must have read her mind, because he said intently—still in Zakharan—“I’ve never used those words in bed, Angel. You’re my first...in that way.”
She believed him. Just as she believed him when he said, “It’s been a long time for me. Longer than a man likes to admit, even to himself.” His hand slid down until it was nestled at the crux of her thighs, fingers brushing lightly. Reminding her of what they’d just shared numerous times. “But that’s not why I’m here,” he told her, his deep voice quiet in the stillness of the night. “I’m here because you’re the only one I want. Tell me you feel the same way.”
She sighed—an acknowledgment and an acceptance of his explanation—and let herself relax back against him. “I do,” she admitted.
“Good.”
Before she realized it, he drifted off. She didn’t mind. She loved having Alec hold her this way, even in sleep, his semi-arousal pressed up against her backside. Although, she thought with a quick flare of humor, he should not be capable of being aroused at all. Not after all the times we...
Stamina. Alec had unbelievable stamina, and apparently, so did she. But now she was exhausted, although she was still too wired to sleep. They’d slept like the dead between bouts of intense sexual pleasure, but never more than an hour at a time. And each time they’d awakened, Alec had given her two or three orgasms for each one of his. Her body was sated—more than sated.
This last time had been the worst—or the best—depends on how you look at it, she reminded herself with a satisfied smile. He’d used his fingers, watching her face and deriving pleasure from making her come despite herself. Then, when she’d grasped him firmly, wanting to torment him in return, he’d escaped her hold and slid down her body. Starting with her toes, he’d slowly worked his way up her ankles, her calves, the backs of her knees, her thighs. All this before he really got to work with his tongue at the apex of her thighs.
She sighed deeply at the memories. All good. If I never have sex again, I’ll die a happy woman, she thought dreamily.
“Come for me,” he’d told her, coaxing her into letting go with the deep voice that never failed to thrill her—his voice alone had made her shudder. “That’s right, Angel. That’s right. Come for me.” And she had. She’d been embarrassed at how easily he’d been able to entice her first climax out of her with just his fingers. Not to mention how embarrassed she’d felt admitting to him this was only her second time with a man. And the first time she’d enjoyed it.
But he hadn’t let her be embarrassed. Not that first time. Not any time. He’d encouraged her to touch him everywhere. She’d used her hands. Lips. Tongue. Teeth. And just as he said he would, he’d told her what he liked, how he liked it. How long he liked it. And he’d coaxed her into telling him what she liked, how she liked it. How long she liked it. Until they knew each other intimately. Until they no longer had to say a word. Until everything just meshed...every time.
Angelina sighed drowsily again, a sound of pure joy. Pure contentment. She wanted to stay like this forever...remembering. But before she knew it, she’d fallen asleep.
* * *
Alec woke first. He eased himself away, then lay on his side, his head propped up on one hand, watching Angelina sleep. Loving the sight of her, so sleep-and sex-tousled. Her face rosy and satisfied. She’d been perturbed at first that he’d brought condoms with him. As if he’d known they would become lovers tonight. As if he’d planned it.
But then he’d told her in all honesty, “I’ve been carrying condoms with me since the first day I kissed you. Not because I planned to seduce you, but because I would never put you at risk. I wanted to be ready if you ever said yes.” Then he’d laughed softly, deep in his throat. “Not that I didn’t want to make love to you—even before I kissed you. Remember when we met at the airport?”
She’d nodded and he’d told her, “I saw you watching me. There was just something about you, something that said, ‘Touch me and die.’” He’d laughed again. “Okay, so you were a challenge, and I could never resist a challenge. But it wasn’t just that. Everything you said, everything you did—even taking me down the day we went jogging—told me, ‘This woman is unique. She would understand.’”
She hadn’t asked him, “Understand what?” But if she had, he’d have told her at least some of what he was thinking. Even if she wasn’t ready to hear it yet.
He and Angelina were dynamite together in bed. He’d imagined they would be, but the reality put even his dreams to shame. She was so giving. Not just in what she was willing to do to and for him—although that had been an eye-opening revelation—but the trust she’d given him. Letting go of her inhibitions. Letting him know how vulnerable she was—but only with him. Letting him see how much she enjoyed everything he did to her.
It was an incredible turn-on to know he was the one giving her so much unbearable pleasure, and making her cry out his name. Knowing, too, he was the first man to tap the vein of intense sexuality that ran so deep in her, so carefully hidden from the rest of the world. God, would he ever get enough of her?
She still pushes all your buttons, Jones. She always will. Just admit it.
That was certainly true. But even as he acknowledged the truth of that statement, he acknowledged another truth—an unpalatable one. Unless he figured out a way to keep Angelina without destroying either her career or his—something that would destroy them—any button pushing in the future would have to be done long-distance.
Chapter 8
Angelina woke late—too late to go for her normal morning run—having had maybe four hours of sleep total. But the lack of sleep didn’t bother her; she’d never felt better in her life, despite the lingering awareness between her legs that made walking to the bathroom a gingery effort after she slipped quietly from the bed so as not to waken Alec.
The shower tempted her. She needed one after last night...and this morning. She wasn’t even going to count how many times she’d climaxed, although the number ten stood out in big bold letters in her mind for some reason. Not every time had been cataclysmic—but even when she’d told Alec, “I cannot,” they’d both known she could...and did.
She no sooner stepped under the hot spray when the shower curtain was jerked open and a big male body joined hers, taking up more than his share of the available space, crowding her deliberately. Taking possession of her body as if he had the right. Which he does, she acknowledged to herself. She’d given him that right. Just as he’d given her the right to take possession of his body, which she was quick to do now. Stroking. Fondling. Then standing on tiptoe to fit him at the apex of her thighs.
“Don’t, Angel,” he said at last, but his refusal was halfhearted. “I need to be at the embassy in less than an hour, and I still have to go back to my apartment and change. I can’t show up at work wearing—” She tightened her legs deliberately and he groaned deep in his throat. “Oh God, Angel. Not now. I—”
A tiny corner of her mind told her she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t resist. She slid to her knees in front of him, holding his erection in her hands and taking him into her mouth. Alec managed to turn the water off and brace himself against the shower tiles, but that was the last conscious movement he made until she’d wrung a shuddering orgasm from him.
When she finally let him go, stood and turned the water back on to wash both of them, he growled, “You’re a witch, you know that?”
Angelina smiled, for the first time understanding completely the expression like a cat at the cream pot. “Five minutes,” she said, soaping his body briskly and moving so the shower spray would rinse him off. “You could spare five minutes.”
“Yeah, but now I need to return the favor, and that will take a hell of
a lot longer than five minutes.”
She shook her head. “No time. You must get to the embassy, remember? Besides...” She laughed softly. “I am way ahead of you already. Even after this.” She was out of the shower before he could stop her, and she handed him the towel she’d used on her hair last night. They dried off in silence, but when she wrapped her towel around her and tried to slip past him into her bedroom, he stopped her with one hand on her arm, all banter gone from his expression. “This doesn’t end here, Angel.”
Part of her wanted to tell him it had to. That this was a one-time thing. But another part of her yearned to believe in the fairy-tale ending. And because she knew neither of them had time for the kind of discussion Alec was obviously intending, she compromised. “I must get to work, too,” she told him. “Now is not the time.”
“When?”
He wanted to pin her down. “Tonight?” she offered. “I am off at five. You could meet me here after that. Or I could come to your apartment.”
He hesitated for only a second. “I’ll come here. Five-thirty okay? I’ll take you to dinner, and we can talk.”
She would have agreed to anything that got Alec out of her apartment now. She’d worry about tonight later. “Fine.”
* * *
When Angelina arrived at the palace for her regular duty guarding the queen, she was stopped outside the queen’s suite by Captain Zale and Lieutenant Arkady before she could knock and gain admittance.
“The king wishes to see you, Lieutenant Mateja,” Captain Zale said without preamble. “Lieutenant Arkady will take your duty today.”
This cannot be good. A sinking feeling swept through her, but she stiffened her spine and asked coolly, “The entire day? Or just until my audience with the king is finished?” She caught her breath as another thought occurred to her, one with devastating impact. “Or am I being relieved of duty permanently?”