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He kissed her then, his lips moving over hers with mastery and controlled passion. He was letting her set the pace. Granting her the time to adjust to being loved by his hands and mouth. Almost immediately her body quickened. Uncertainty fell away. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tilted her hips to find his erection waiting for her.
“You know what I need,” she whispered, rocking against him, feeling him slide through her slick folds and probe her entrance.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Never better.”
He rocked forward, easing his way into her with smooth, gradually deepening thrusts. While her mind had blocked all awareness of her arousal, her body had its own agenda. She expanded to welcome Christian’s possession and cried out in pleasure as he seated himself fully inside her. With barely a pause, he withdrew, and together they found a familiar rhythm.
How had she forgotten how perfectly they fit together? Bodies attuned, hands knowing exactly how and where to touch—their movements were so perfectly choreographed they could’ve made love the night before.
Christian’s steady thrusts intensified the pleasure building in her body in the same way his rough, unsteady breathing and whispered words of encouragement and praise made her heart sing. Once again Noelle’s climax claimed her fast and hard. As aware of her body’s reactions as he was of his own, Christian timed his own orgasm so perfectly that they came at nearly the same moment.
In the aftermath, Noelle lay panting and dazed beneath Christian’s weight, glad she’d been rational enough to be able to forget this bliss these past five years. Only by focusing on what had been bad about their relationship rather than recalling the good had she learned to live without him. And now he was back. And so were her memories of how amazing his lovemaking had been.
As soon as Christian shifted to lie beside her, Noelle scooted off the bed and made a beeline for her nightgown and robe. She was almost to the door before Christian spoke.
“You’re leaving?” He’d levered himself onto his elbows and stared at her in blank shock.
“I think it’s best.”
“But we haven’t talked.” He frowned. “And you used to like to snuggle after we made love.” He sounded so put out that she had a hard time repressing a smile.
She reached behind her for the door handle. “Yes, well, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
That brought him to a sitting position. Looking adorable with his hair mussed and his strong, broad shoulders slumped, he asked, “What sort of wrong impression?”
“Sex with you I can handle,” she explained, echoing what he’d once said to her. “But I can’t do intimacy.”
Then before he could rise from the bed to challenge her bold declaration, she slipped out of the room.
Shortly after dawn the next morning, Noelle woke facedown in her own bed, and her first emotion was relief. She stretched her arms and legs, luxuriating in the cool sheets and the unfettered peace of early morning. As amazing as the previous night with Christian had been, she wasn’t prepared to dive back into the intimacy of sleeping in his arms and being roused by his morning erection and sensual kisses.
Her skin prickled at the thought, and she smiled in memory of his shocked and worried expression when she’d blithely slipped out of bed after what had been the best sex of her life. If he’d had any clue how shaky her legs had been, he might not have let her go without an encore. Instead, exhausted by her long and stress-filled work week and abundance of exercise both on the battlements yesterday afternoon and in Christian’s bed last night, she’d enjoyed a blissful six-and-a-half hours of deep, restful sleep.
She’d barely finished heaving a deep, contented sigh when her bedroom door opened and the slap of four-year-old feet sped across the tile floor. A second later a small body landed on the mattress beside her, and Noelle rolled over to scoop her son into a snug embrace.
“Morning, dumpling,” she cooed in his ear, savoring the squeeze of his strong arms around her neck. “Did you sleep well?”
“I dreamed I was a dragon who ate everyone in this castle.”
“Even me?” She prodded him in the ribs and tickled him.
Marc writhed and giggled. When she let him gather a breath, he said, “No, Mama. I wouldn’t eat you.” He gave her a smug grin. “But I ate Prince Christian.”
“Your father,” she corrected, forcing a light note into her voice. “I don’t know that it’s polite to eat one of your parents.”
“It’s okay, Mama. He didn’t mind.”
Noelle decided not to belabor the point. “Are you hungry? What do you think they’ll have for breakfast?”
“Waffles?” Marc asked, his eyes round with hope.
“I don’t think they’ll have those.”
“I can make a special request to the cook,” said a deep voice from the direction of the hall. Christian stood framed in the open doorway Marc had come through only moments before. “I’m sure she would be happy to whip up a batch.”
Christian looked so handsome in khaki pants and a crisp white shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose his strong forearms. His unexpected appearance when her defenses were down sent her emotions flipping end over end. Somehow she managed a friendly smile. If she’d thought sex with Christian would simplify her feelings for the man, she was a fool.
