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“What do you mean about New York, Kendra?” he demanded, ordering himself to wait. To hold on.
To hear her answer before he lost his head.
“Oh,” Kendra said, sounding flustered and breathless. Sure enough, that telltale flush rolled down the length of her body, lighting her up as surely as a billboard in Times Square. “I thought you knew already. I was a virgin that night.”
And then she began to move.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HERBODYWASdifferent now. Kendra felt awkward in her clothes and sometimes couldn’t figure out how to move the way she’d used to. There were new aches and strange pains in all kinds of surprising places, but this—
This was the same.
Better.
Balthazar was deep inside her again. At last. And this time, she was fully aware of every inch of his flesh and the fact that there was nothing between them.
This time, there was no pain.
There was only the reality of him, hard and thick, filling her so completely that it was almost too much. Almost. She had to keep moving so that the sensation grew, but never quite tipped over into pain again.
The more she moved, the better it felt.
And there was something about the look on his face as he gazed up at her. An intensity so close to a scowl that if she’d been doing anything else, she might have frozen in place—
But there wasn’t a single part of her that wanted to stay still. Much less freeze.
Instead, she braced herself against him, leaned into all that glorious heat, and let her hips do as they wished.
She took him inside her, then lifted herself away. She was fully aware of the moment he took over that rhythm, moving her instead of letting her rock herself against him, and that was better.
Everything he did was better.
Sitting up like this, different sensations buffeted her with every thrust. Her breasts bounced gently. There was a stretch in her thighs that seemed to arrow straight to the place they were joined. And that new belly of hers changed how she fit against him.
Or maybe it was as simple as the position. How would she know?
Balthazar muttered something she didn’t understand, a rough scrape of Greek. Then he tugged her lower so he could take one of her nipples deep into his mouth.
And just like that, shockinglyquickly, Kendra shattered all over again.
But he didn’t stop. He took his time with her oversensitive breasts and she kept falling apart. Again and again.
He switched his attention from one breast to the other, his hand taking over when his mouth abandoned the job. Back and forth, back and forth, and all the while he maintained that steady, even pounding rhythm deep inside her.
At first Kendra counted the times he made her dissolve.
Three times. Four.
Then she lost count. There were too many flames, setting her alight, making her scream. Making her forget there was anything but this.
But him.
Then Balthazar was rolling her over and stretching her out below him as he propped himself up on his arms. And suddenly he was even deeper, so much a part of her that she thought she could die like this, connected in ways she had never known were possible—
He was saying Greek words as he gazed down at her, as hot as his mouth against her pulse. And he lost that steady rhythm, pounding into her as he took her to that edge once more.
And this time when she bucked against him, fragments of her flying all around and shattering so completely she was sure she would never put herself back together again, he came with her.
