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If perfection existed, he’d found it.
Luke felt himself getting too close to the edge, buried so deep within her. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop and take his time if he didn’t slow down now. But then he felt her urging him on, bucking against him. And as he increased the pace, blind to everything but the goal, she cried out. Her muscles contracted in waves, and he lost all control then. His release was blinding and hard, in time with hers. They went over the edge and into free fall in perfect unison.
Luke held on to Jane, buried his face in her hair, wishing he could somehow consume her. He wanted her all for his own, no more playing around. So what if they’d only just met—when it was right, it was right.
And this was right.
Only after he’d recovered from the spasms of pleasure and regained his ability to think clearly did he realize that all those hyperintense sensations were the result of his not wearing a condom.
Damn it, he’d never screwed up this badly before. Not even with women he’d been with long-term. He’d always prided himself on his meticulous use of protection. And now this. His gut clenched as the possible repercussions flashed in his mind.
Jane had come to her senses too and was placing butterfly kisses on his shoulder and neck.
“I forgot to wear a condom,” he said.
She froze, and he felt her holding her breath. She finally released the air in a curse.
“I’m sorry. This has never happened to me before.” He withdrew himself from her and let her back down on her feet.
“It’s just as much my fault as yours.” She looked him in the eye but seemed almost embarrassed having to discuss such a clinical issue on the heels of their lovemaking. “I take birth control pills, and I was clean on my last checkup. I haven’t had sex since then, except with you.”
“I’m clean too.” He took her into his arms and held her against him.
Inhaling her peppermint scent, savoring the feel of her warm and naked against him, he almost forgot about the huge mistake they’d just made. Remembering, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, where he lay her down on the bed and then stretched out beside her. Raising up on his elbow, he realized for the first time that he was still completely dressed. He hadn’t even taken off his boots.
“Whoops,” he muttered as he swung his feet back off the bed, then unlaced and tugged off the boots. When he was back in place beside her, he rested one hand on her bare belly and propped his head on his other hand.
“I’m sorry about that. I guess I should have—or we should have…” She sighed.
“Slowed down?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the best hello I’ve ever gotten.”
Jane giggled, then expelled a weary sigh. “It’s a little scary to lose control like that.”
No kidding. The pull between them was almost too strong, too intense for people who’d only just met. Luke wanted to explore the possibilities between them, but if it meant making another stupid mistake like the one they’d just made, he knew something had to give. They needed to slow down, gain a little control over their desires…Easier said than done.
His hand, resting on her belly, got an itch to move downward. His fingertips barely brushed her pubic hair, and if he just moved a few more inches south, he’d be right where he wanted to be.
Damn it. He jerked his hand away from her and rested it on his own hip, his fist clenched in frustration.
“Is something wrong?” Jane asked.
“I was just about to lose control again, that’s all.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “I was hoping you’d touch me. Guess I ought to get dressed, hmm?”
Yes, she should get dressed. That would take away some of the temptation, at least. But he couldn’t say it. Instead, when she began to sit up, he grabbed her by the waist and held her there beside him. His cock went from half-mast to full in an instant.
“Stay here,” he heard himself say against his better judgment.
A slow smile spread across Jane’s mouth as she rolled toward him and spooned against his side. “If I’m going to be naked, it’s no fair that you get to keep your clothes on.”
She had a point there, dangerous as it was, but before he could make a decision, she began unbuttoning his shirt. He watched her, growing more aroused with each unfastened button. In the dim lamplight from the nightstand, he could see that her hair was beginning to dry in thick ringlets, and her creamy skin had the sort of glow in the soft light that the Old Masters had tried to capture in their subjects.
In fact, she did look like a painting, lying there beside him. A very erotic, riveting painting. Then the painting began to kiss his chest, and he decided she was right—clothes were only going to get in the way.
