“I might be able to summon a few reserves of energy.”
“You do that,” he said as he headed for the bathroom.
His five-o’clock shadow had morphed into a ten-o’clock bristle. He’d scraped Natalie’s tender cheeks enough the first time around. He better shave and go a little more gentle on her this time. But when he reentered the bedroom a scant ten minutes later, she was curled in a tight ball under the featherbed and sawing soft, breathy Z’s.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, he settled at the desk. His conscience didn’t even ping as he powered up her laptop. Forty minutes later he’d seen everything he needed to. His skills weren’t as honed as those of the wizards in Interpol’s Computer Crimes Division, but they were good enough for him to feel confident she wasn’t hacking into unauthorized databases or shifting money into hidden accounts. Everything he saw indicated she’d lived well within her salary as an archivist for the State of Illinois and was now socking most of the generous salary Sarah paid her into a savings account.
Satisfied and more than a little relieved to have his instincts validated, Dom shed his clothes and slid in beside her lax, warm body. He was tempted to nudge her awake and treat himself to a celebration of his nonfindings. He restrained himself but it required a heroic effort.
* * *
Natalie woke to bright morning sunshine, the distant clang of cowbells and a feeling of energy and purpose. She ascribed the last to a solid night’s sleep—until she tried to roll over and realized she probably owed it more to the solid wall of male behind her.
God, he felt good! What’s more, he made her feel good. Just lying nested against his warmth and strength generated all kinds of wild possibilities. Like maybe waking up in the same nest for the next few weeks or months. Or even, her sneaky little subconscious suggested, years.
The thought struck her that Dominic St. Sebastian might be all she needed to feel complete. All she would ever need. Apparently, she had no family. Judging by the dearth of personal emails on her laptop, she didn’t have a wide circle of friends. Yet lying here with Dom, she didn’t feel the lack of either.
Maybe that’s why the details of her personal life were so slow returning. Her life was so empty, so blah, she didn’t want to remember it. That made her grimace, which must have translated into some small movement because a lazy voice sounded just behind her ear.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
Sheets rustling, she angled a look over her shoulder and sighed. “It’s not fair.”
“What isn’t?”
“My eyes feel goopy from sleep, my hair’s probably sticking out in all directions and I know my teeth need brushing. You, on the other hand, look fresh and wide-awake and good enough to eat.”
Good enough to gobble whole, actually. Those black eyes and hair, the golden-oak hue of his skin, the square chin and chiseled cheekbones…the whole package added up to something really spectacular to start the day with. Only the nicks and scars of his profession marred the perfection.
“In fact,” she announced, “I think I’ll have you for breakfast.”
She rolled onto her side, trying not to treat him to a blast of morning breath, and wiggled down a few inches. She started with the underside of his jaw and slowly worked her way south. Teasing, tasting, nibbling the cords in his neck, dropping kisses on alternate ribs, circling his belly button with her tongue. By the time she dragged the sheets down to his hips, he was stiff and rampant.
Her own belly tight and quivering now, she circled him with her palm. The skin was hot and satin smooth, the blood throbbing in his veins. She slid her hand up, down, up again, delighted when he grunted and jerked involuntarily.
“Okay,” she told him, her voice throaty with desire, “I need a little of that action.”
All thought of ratty hair and goopy eyes forgotten, she swung a leg over his thighs and raised her hips. Dom was straining and eager but held her off long enough to tear into another foil package.
“Let me,” she said, brushing his hands aside.
She rolled on the condom, then positioned her hips again. Together they rode to an explosive release that had him thrusting upward and her collapsing onto his chest in mindless, mewling pleasure.
* * *
Natalie recovered first. Probably because she had to pee really, really bad. She scooped up her jeans and the green-and-white-striped rugby shirt she now claimed as her own on the way to the bathroom. When she emerged, she found Dom dressed and waiting for his turn.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”
Since she wasn’t sure whether they would return to the gasthaus, she stuffed the files and laptop back into her briefcase and threw her few miscellaneous items into her weekender. The sight of those plain, sensible, neatly folded blouses made her wrinkle her nose. Whatever happened when—if—she regained her memory, she was investing in an entire new wardrobe.