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He moved like the same guy, his actions defined by quiet mastery as he pulled out, zipped up, then discreetly disposed of the condom. He acted the same too, handling her like a dew drop while unbuckling her restraints, pulling out the bit, and gathering her close to his sweat-drenched chest. His heart throbbed with the same powerful rhythm, pounding at her ear even through his soaked T-shirt, confirming the impact of their passion on his own system.
But none of it was the same.
Hewasn’t the same.
He was more now.
So much more.
The hero daring enough to make this whole night happen for her. The Dom confident enough to keep pushing her through it. But the lover tender enough to cradle her tight now, murmuring soft encouragement, as she shook from the mental impact of processing all of it.
The man, vigilant and bold and beautiful and strong, who’d come to touch so much of her soul…and rule so much of her heart.
Who was so dangerously close to claiming even more.
No.
Wasn’t going to happen.
Couldn’thappen.
If he took anything more than what he’d demanded tonight, there would be bloodletting in having to let him go tomorrow. Or the next day. Perhaps the next. Did it matter? There were cosmic scissors in their future, plain and simple. Disgusting jaws that, in one mighty snip, would send her back to DC and John back to the post-military relaxation he’d earned.
Shockingly, she managed to hold on to that resolve as Franzen rose, still clutching her close, and strode off the stage. Even in the shadows and cold beyond the floodlights, she was adamant about accepting his warmth and tenderness but nothing more. She even managed a lopsided grin when he carried her through another door, down a short hall with more leather-lined walls, and into the intimacy of—gasp—a normal bedroom. Well, at least what appeared normal. Who knew what kinds of things were stored in the drawers beneath the four-poster bed or in the huge chest against the wall? For that matter, four poster bed. Hello, hidden bondage rig points?
She could only hope.
But even that thought was best tucked into another mental drawer, relinquished in the name of savoring only this moment. Maintaining this soft smile, even as John set her down on the cushy, ivory coverlet then slowly peeled away the hood. He gazed at her for a long moment, pushing aside stray hairs his action had yanked free, before moving in to kiss her with lingering reverence.
Accept nothing more than this.
Believe nothing more than this.
But crossing the Pacific in a rowboat was beginning to seem easier.
Treasure the moment.
Only the moment.
Even as he finished the kiss then guided her to turn over, stomach down, on the bed.
Even as he stretched his massive body alongside hers, skating fingers like feathers down the curve of her body, until they brushed along the furry extension still lifting from her backside.
When he pulled the plug all the way free, an unthinking moan erupted up her throat.
“You okay?” His query was just as careful as his touch. He rested his head in the crook of his elbow, watching her with a stare that missed nothing.
Tracy nodded. Quirked up one corner of her mouth. “Fine…Sir. It just…”
“Just what?”
“It feels…empty now.”
His lopsided smirk copied hers. “If that’s a bad thing, popoki, I can certainly fix the issue.”
“That so?” Her own voice wavered a little. Maybe a lot. After the intensity of what they’d just been through, could she handle even more new sexual territory now?
She only knew she wanted to find out.
