His Pregnant Christmas Bride(37)

Now that he knew every cell in his body was her personal property, no matter if she would have him or not, his desire frightened him with its magnitude.

But she did want him the same way. She wanted him with everything in her. For now. And for as long as he could have her total desire, he would give her his everything.

Adjusting her in his lap, over his erection, he began to move inside her again. He luxuriated in possessing her, in exploring her body and plumbing the depths of her responses as he loved her. He gave her two more screaming, heaving orgasms before he took his own roaring release.

After he’d rinsed and dried them both, he scooped her up and headed toward his bedroom this time, where he intended to keep her for as long as she would stay.

It was only when he was walking the huge corridor leading to his suite that she stirred in his arms, her question slurring. “Where are you taking me?”

He bent to kiss those swollen lips that could barely articulate words. “To my bed. Where I’ll take you properly.”

* * *

It sometimes seemed impossible.

Well, it always did, actually. That Ivan could give her even more pleasure every time he made love to her. But he did.

Ever since that day six weeks ago when he’d given in and given her himself totally, every time he took her, it was even better, more carnal, yet more profound. He’d been very eloquent and copious with expressing his passion. Far more poetic than this science nerd could ever be. He told her every time he touched her, it was like he tapped into another realm, where neither of them had limits, where the potential for pleasure and unity was infinite.

Anastasia sighed, stretched in bed, every cell buzzing with bliss as she watched Ivan through the open door of his gigantic bedroom, theirs now. He was coming into view then disappearing as he walked to and fro in the attached living room, his deep voice barely audible so as not to disturb her as he no doubt settled a business matter with a subordinate.

She’d never felt like this before, not even with him. Their rapport had been growing with every touch, every glance and word, as if the ordeals they’d endured together had somehow given each a direct link to the other’s very essence. Now they were learning to perfect each channel of communication between them, every spark of sensation. The most incredible thing was his becoming that vocal in expressing his feelings, in communicating his thoughts and memories.

Not that he’d ever crossed some lines. He hadn’t put a name to those feelings, or ever went back in time further than when he’d been establishing Black Castle Enterprises with his partners, whom she’d discovered were more than brothers to him. It had been okay with her, as she’d thought it was only a matter of time before he let her in all the way.

But that had proved the only blot in the perfection. That she by now believed he never would.

Suddenly, the bone-deep contentment of waking up in his bed evaporated. Getting up, she put on the turquoise silk robe he’d bought her, another thing that echoed her eyes, which he loved to see.

Walking to the balcony, she opened the blackout curtains, let the cool late November daylight in, looking over the sprawling, snow-covered grounds, trying to shake off the dip in her mood.

She was being too silly, too greedy, needing to reach as deep inside him as he had inside her. But she had to live with the fact that there was far more to him than there was to her. Or anyone else for that matter. What had made him this incomparable man that he was had to have been experiences and tests that she couldn’t even imagine. No doubt things he wanted to forget, might even regret. If he couldn’t let her in that far, probably thinking she couldn’t handle it, it shouldn’t bother her. That it did was her own problem, not his. A problem she should deal with, once and for all.

“Did I wake you up?”

She whirled around at Ivan’s vocal caress. She’d been engaged in such a struggle with her wayward thoughts that she hadn’t heard his approach. He was behind her, then around her, encompassing her in his cherishing power.

She met his heated smile with her own. “I just woke up because you were no longer beside me.”

“Now I am, and it’s the only place I ever want to be.” His breath flayed her lips, hot, virile, filling her lungs and being. “No one should wake up this beautiful. No one should be this beautiful, period.”

Starting to tremble with that urgency for him that never abated, she ground herself against his hardness. “Look who’s talking.”

He pressed her back against the French window, driving one pant-clad powerful thigh between her quivering legs where her robe opened to expose them. “Tell me, Anastasia.”