Circling his hips against hers, rubbing their bodies together carnally, he sparked a mad fire, enflaming her deep at the core. She needed him, craved him. Never had she felt this kind of drive to be with someone. Only Kris.
The monster had been unleashed but it was inside her. All her feelings for this man had exploded from their bonds, seeking to claim even as she was claimed. She barely understood the ways he made her whole, made her more than what she’d been. Barely understood the drive to reach completion again and again.
She’d been waiting for this, for him, her entire life.
As he drove her higher, faster, fiercer and longer than the first time, as she was about to drop off that ledge and free fall into climax, she found his gaze and stared into his open eyes as she shattered.
He shuddered with his own release but didn’t break their locked gazes, and the emotion in his melty eyes—affection, pleasure, affinity—squeezed her heart. Squeezed so hard, tears formed. One slid down her face, and in the aftermath, still joined and totally overcome, she mouthed I love you.
Shock darted through his expression. She cursed. She hadn’t meant for him to hear her.
She stood and backed away, taking measured breaths to calm her racing pulse. “Sorry, heat of the moment. Don’t worry, it’s not contagious.”
His eyes turned flat and unreadable. Inaccessible Kristian Demetrious had returned.
“Come back and let me finish washing you,” he said.
Eyes narrowed, she did, but when he touched her, it was impersonal. Great. How in the world would she counteract this disaster?
The atmosphere was strained for the remainder of their shower and as they got dressed. He talked to her. She talked back, but couldn’t find the groove where they were intimate with each other. They shared the bathroom sink and mirror, accidentally touched, did a hundred other things that a real couple might but it wasn’t right. Panic erupted like a swarm of angry monarchs flying down her windpipe and she couldn’t get her eyeliner straight.
They went to dinner at a different place than last night and she had no illusions about whether they would eat this time. Halfway through the salad course, she put her fork down. “Can we talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” He twirled the fork in his fingers and caught it, then stabbed some lettuce as if it had tried to get up and walk off his plate.
“You know what. The shower.”
“I’m partial to showers, myself. Aren’t you?”
Resorting to deflection. Why was she not surprised? “I say that to all the guys I’m sleeping with. Don’t read into it.”
His face froze. He picked up his wineglass and sat back in the chair, all pretense of eating gone. “Well, I feel special.”
What kind of response was that? Suddenly she was tired of trying to burrow through, under or around that wall. Tired of waiting for that moment when it would all come together.
She buried her face in her hands and willed back the sudden urge to stand and run. “What do you expect me to say? That you’re nothing to me, and I can’t wait to ditch you? That I don’t have any feelings for you? I can’t. Both would be as much a lie as telling you I say that to all the guys. Guy. There’s only been one other.”
“Look at me.”
She raised her head. With a small smile, he held out a hand, palm up. Cautiously, she placed her hand in his and he squeezed it tight. She braced.
Here it comes. It’s not you, it’s me.
“You’re the most fascinating and exciting woman I’ve ever met,” he said. “The most attractive part is your honesty. I have to accept that sometimes it might lead to a little more honesty than expected. If that’s how you feel, I appreciate that you trust me enough to say so. I’m sorry I didn’t handle it well. You took me by surprise. That’s all.”
“Did you just apologize to me?” Her throat wasn’t working right, and it was going to be a close call whether or not she cried. Kris thought she was fascinating and exciting. Instead of continuing to freak out over her slip, he’d apologized. This was way better than a romance novel.
“I did, because I was acting badly. So I’ll do it again. I’m sorry. I don’t want to spend the rest of our time together being at odds. We’ve only got a few days before I go back to L.A.”
A few days? Back to L.A.?
When had English become her second language?
“Can we put it behind us and have a good time tonight?” he asked and stroked her knuckle.
“Sure.” Somewhere she’d lost the thread of the conversation and desperately, she cast about, trying to grasp it again. “What’s on the agenda for the evening?”