More Than Perfect(34)

 And with that knowledge, he let go. Let go of a lifetime of restraints and caution. Sliced through the Gordian knot of his control. For the first time, he gave himself fully to a woman, holding nothing back. Gave himself up to the fury and passion. He could tell the instant she let go, as well. Heard her cry of surrender, felt the shift as they climbed. Felt that breathless moment of ecstasy as they hovered at the peak. Felt the explosive climax. And then they tumbled into the wild and uncharted.

 But he wasn’t alone there. He had Angie.





Six

“I gather we’re now committed to this course of insanity?” Angie asked, her voice satisfyingly breathless.

 Lucius rolled onto his side, facing her. “So it would seem.”

 Unable to help himself, he traced the length of her neck. Unbelievable how much her skin felt like silk. He glided his fingertips across the hollow at the joining of neck and throat and farther, to the gentle curve of her breast. She shivered at the touch, and with their bodies still intimately linked he could feel the abrupt kick to her heart rate. Instead of being amused by her reaction, it humbled him. His touch alone could do that. And he had a sneaking suspicion her touch alone affected him the exact same way.

 Aw, hell. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Sure, he’d hoped for a mutually satisfying sexual relationship. But this felt like more than that. This felt dangerous. Serious. It was time to adjust course, because going down this road led straight to disaster, particularly when Angie had been crystal clear about her disinterest—hell, her distaste—for anything too personal. And after Lisa… Well, he knew better than to look for something that didn’t exist.

 And yet, still he wanted Angie. Still, he touched. And touching, possessed. She didn’t hesitate when he turned to her, gathered her in. Her initial acquiescence became demand, her demand an intriguing combination of uncertainty and aggression. And something else. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Then it hit him. Infuriated, challenged, defied him. Reticence. She was holding back, refusing to give herself fully to him, and the knowledge drove him wild.

 “Look at me,” he demanded. He speared his fingers into the thick tumble of her hair, anchoring her so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “I want you to see who you’re in bed with.”

 A laugh broke from her, a heartbreaking sound. “I see you. I’ve always seen you.”

 “You’re holding back and I won’t have it. I’m not Moretti. I’m not a one-night stand. I’m not some convenient body in the dark you can use for a night’s worth of temporary pleasure and then toss aside come morning.”

 “I know you’re not. I’ve never—” She shook her head, fighting him. “I don’t do one-night stands.”

 He throttled back, allowed his voice to go low and soothing. “Then trust me. Let go. I won’t hurt you. I swear I won’t.”

 Her eyes sheened with tears and one escaped, sliding down her temple to lose its way in her hair. “You don’t understand. I don’t think I can. I don’t know how.”

 “Don’t think. Just feel.”

 He slowed the pace, drew out each caress, each kiss. Lingered and wallowed until he felt the slow give of her body. He explored her, the uncharted territory as well as the familiar, delighting in the sleek and toned, tracing from subtle curve to quiet valley. He still sensed a certain resistance, but inch by inch he soothed and encroached his way through her barriers, not giving her time for defense or withdrawal. And all the while he talked to her, a gentle, soothing whisper of words that eased him closer and closer to the true heart of the woman he held.

 The instant the last bastion fell, he joined their bodies, one to the other, taking her in every sense of the word, penetrating with one devastating stroke. Her cry of surrender shattered the air and the moment she let go was also the moment she fully awoke. He didn’t understand how or why. He didn’t understand what past issues had caused such caution, although he swore to himself that he would. He simply matched her. If he’d thought what had come before had been life altering, it bore no comparison to what they now shared. He could only ride the wave with her, fighting to stay ahead of the tumble, to draw out the experience to its ultimate degree. To show her the possible. The impossible. The transcendent.

 He had no idea whether they slept afterward. More likely, passed out. When consciousness returned, he found them so tangled together he suspected it would take a herculean effort to separate male from female. She stirred, though she made no attempt to shift away from him or begin the untangling process. He hoped she’d lost the ability to raise any further barricades against him.