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A breathless little laugh escaped her. The flash of raw hunger in his gaze—the knowledge that he wanted her even now, after hours of lovemaking—was a potent aphrodisiac in her blood.
Keeping pace with him on the walk back proved a challenge. By the time they tumbled through the front door of his apartment—hot, gasping for breath—his roving hands had already driven her mindless with need. He toed the door shut, backed her up against the hallway wall. For a long moment they stood panting, gazes locked, the heat of desire a living, pulsing thing in the air around them. Then his head came down, and his possession of her mouth was swift, almost brutal.
Helena’s body responded with a powerful throb and she wrapped her arms around his neck, hungry for the crush of his mouth, the hot slide of his tongue against hers.
Lord.
He was right.
Her need for him was insatiable. Beyond her control.
Somehow they reached his bedroom, a haphazard trail of shoes, clothes and undergarments strewn in their wake. And then he was sheathed and inside her, filling her to the hilt with the hard, powerful thrusts of his possession.
Taking her to a place where there was only him.
Only her.
Only pleasure.
And then, too quickly, she was climaxing, her body arching wildly under him, multiple waves of pleasure radiating from her core as her internal muscles milked his simultaneous release. Her orgasm was so swift, the sensations flooding her so intense, she had to bury her face in his neck and hold back a sob of some inexplicable emotion as he rolled onto his side and cradled her into his chest.
When, a short while later, he carried her into his massive marble shower and started soaping the sweat from their bodies, she didn’t have the energy to talk or move. She simply closed her eyes, clung to his wide shoulders and let the hot soapy water and his gentle touch prolong her bliss.
Back in bed, dry and cosy, snuggled into his side, she drifted towards sleep. She was teetering on the edge of that sweet abyss when his fingers tilted up her chin. She kept her eyes closed, muttered a protest.
‘Promise me something, cara.’
She frowned. They were doing this again? ‘No regrets...’ she mumbled, and tried to drop her head back onto his chest.
His grip firmed. ‘A different promise.’
Sighing, she fluttered open her eyelids. ‘Hmm...?’
‘Promise me you’ll never let your father—never let anyone—tell you you’re worthless.’
She hesitated, her throat growing painfully tight. ‘I promise,’ she whispered, and damn if that warm glow from earlier hadn’t flared back to life.
* * *
Leo emerged from the tendrils of a deep, dreamless sleep and sensed he was being watched. He opened his eyes and blinked, adjusting to the pale morning light slanting through the gaps in the blinds. Helena lay half atop him, her naked body warm and soft, her chin propped on the slim hand splayed over his chest.
His groin stirred.
‘Morning, cara.’
Her smile held a hint of mischief, as if she knew how easily she aroused him and revelled in the knowledge.
‘Morning.’ She ran the tip of one finger down his jaw, her nail scraping through a thick layer of bristly stubble. ‘Are you properly awake?’
He moved slightly, his erection nudging her hip. ‘One hundred per cent.’
A pretty blush stole over her cheeks.
‘Can I ask you a question?’
He crooked an eyebrow. An early morning Q&A session was not quite what he’d had in mind. ‘Si,’ he said, gliding his hand over her satiny shoulder, down the back of her ribs to the dip of her waist and lower.
‘Leo.’ She smacked the fingers that had grabbed a handful of soft, delectable buttock. ‘I’m serious.’
