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“Soon.”
“I mean it, Erik.”
“I know you do.” A few more strides and they were in her bedroom. He knelt by her bed so she could dismount. Just as she straightened, ready to let him have it, he lunged up and tumbled her onto the mattress, covering her body with his.
“Well, Sandra.” He grinned lazily down at her. “Here we are.”
Her alarm bells were still sounding. His words echoed in her ears, I want to make love to you, Sandra. “Off me, you pig.”
“Umm...no, thank you.” He pushed her robe open and took in a sharp breath, gazing at her nakedness. “I have dreamed of you, Sandra, missed you, wanted you.”
His words blasted through her attitude, and without that she could say nothing, just lay staring at the ceiling as his mouth found her breast. Then she closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the sensation, telling herself he was flawed, mortal, not worthy of her goddess status, trying to remind herself that she was the great invincible Sandra, who’d never fall for any man, no matter how charmingly he presented himself. To give in to the warm, sweet feelings welling up in her would spell her doom, and the end of his interest.
No weakness.
He kissed down her stomach. Sandra waited, fists clenching the bedspread. The first lick was a long, slow caress. Then nothing. She stayed motionless, her arousal peaking, then dissipating. His tongue made the long, slow trip again. Again, she lay still, controlling her breathing and her heart as best she could.
Then touches, light ones, gentle flicks across her clit. Her breath caught. She suppressed a moan, forced herself not to move. Her desire shot up and hung like a firework in the sky, waiting to explode.
Then nothing but the room’s cool air.
A whimper escaped her. Erik whispered her name, then slid a finger inside her, started the gentle touches and licks again, taking his time, bringing her nearly to the edge, backing off and letting her come down. She fought him, not wanting him to make her lose control, even this way.
“Come for me, Sandra.” He was breathing fast, and his voice was low with emotion.
She shook her head. “You owe me a secret.”
He got off the bed and began taking off his clothes. His emerging body was familiar, beautiful, not perfect, but muscled and totally masculine. She swallowed. Never in her wildest dreams did she think this game would turn out to be so deadly serious, the rules she’d made up as a way to manipulate him so threatening to her own peace of mind.
Then he was naked, except for a condom, getting back onto her double bed, pulling off her robe, laying her back down. She submitted, anxious, eager, reluctant, impatient, terrified.
She’d never made love to anyone she cared about this much. The realization brought tears to her eyes.
No, she couldn’t do this.
“Erik...” She couldn’t believe the fear in her voice. Where was Sandra the Southie now?
“Shhh.” He kissed her, his erection warm and promising between her legs. “What is it? What are you afraid of?”
You. Me. What I feel for you. She shook her head. “The big bad wolf.”
He chuckled. “You are bigger and badder than he can ever be.”
“But I’m not...” She couldn’t go on. Couldn’t explain. He had no idea who she was or how she felt.
He stroked her hair back from her face, kissed her tenderly, laid his head down next to hers. “I’m going to tell you my secret. You said it had to be something I’d never told any other woman.”
An instant before he spoke, she guessed what he was going to say, and her heart rose in panic. This was what her instinct was warning her about. This was the difference today. She’d spent her life building barriers against this moment, barriers that she had no idea how to take down, or if she even wanted to.
She struggled to get away from him, lifting her hips, trying to slide to one side, out from under his body. The movement gave him his chance—or maybe he misunderstood. He plunged inside her, making her cry out in pleasure and despair.
“Sandra.” He pushed farther, gaining depth with each thrust until she felt he would take her over forever. “Sandra. God help me. I love you.”
13
JONAS SWITCHED OFF the engine. Allie sent him a nervous smile and got out of the car immediately. The ride from the bus station had been torture. Julie had been wrong—it was a mistake to come here again this weekend. She should have waited until next week, when Jonas was back in Boston and she could pack up the clothes at her leisure with Erik’s help, and bring them back to New York.
Seeing Jonas again was a mistake. When she’d gotten off the bus and seen him standing, waiting for her, tall and solid, even more handsome than she remembered, her heart had started pounding with equal amounts of joy and nerves, her smile had stretched to enormous proportions across her face—and so had his. They’d met with a bump of bodies, with arms flung around each other. Anyone watching would think it a passionate reunion of longtime lovers.
