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What did she want? How far was she going to take this temporary madness?
His arm lifted, his hand moving toward the light switch next to her head. Anya captured it with her own and his big hand encompassed hers. The contact sent a jolt through her, the rough scrape of his palm, the tight grip of his fingers a lifeline she couldn’t let go.
“Don’t,” she whispered, all her courage deserting her as fast as it had come, leaving her cold and shivering.
Her knees shook and he moved closer, his hands on her arms gently holding her up. “It’s okay, Angel,” he said, in that deep, bass voice that resonated through her body. “You’re okay.”
Anya bent her head and found his shoulder. Slowly, she nuzzled her way across to his throat, and tried to breathe. His fingers instantly moved to her neck, wrapping around her nape, tethering her in the here and now, while she hyperventilated.
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” she offered lamely. Letting the real world intrude in here too, allowing rationality and common sense and all kinds of noise back into her head. But none of those could save her from the pain. Nor even offer comfort. Only he could, only this could...
A bark of a laugh fell from his mouth—more self-deprecating than anything else. “And you still don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Angel. Nothing matters other than this moment—not the past, not the future.”
She breathed in deep and the most decadent scent—his skin and cologne—filled her lungs. That lick of desire flared again, cutting through the loop of thoughts her mind wanted to drown her in.
Awareness inched back into her body, his rock-hard thighs anchoring her when she let herself sway forward, the heat of his body cutting through the chill pervading her skin, the warmth of his breath coating her forehead, tickling the hairs at her temple...her body coming alive in a way she hadn’t known in so long. “There’s only now,” she said, her resolve coming back.
The pad of his thumb found the sensitive hollow of her jaw below her ear. “Yes.” One long finger pressed against her pulse, his touch shifting from tender and protective to something darker and demanding and...possessive. “Now, will you tell me what you truly want, Angel? We’re alone in the dark and I have nothing to guide me but your words. Nothing to guide my actions but your wishes. There’s no honor, no duty, no playing the hero. I’m here to do your bidding.”
Heat flushed through every inch of Anya’s skin at how easily he’d transformed from a kind stranger to this...seductive man. At the delicious promise in his words. At the easy way he’d made this all about her.
Lifting her head, she inched her hands toward him. They landed somewhere below his chest. Slowly, she sent them up his torso, loving the taut, muscular feel of him under her fingers, relishing the strong thud of his heart, and then she clasped her fingers at the nape of his neck.
The ends of his silky hair tickled the tips of her fingers. Stretching up on tiptoe, she leaned in until her mouth found his jaw—stubbled and rough and oh so delicious against her lips. “I want you. Everything you can give me, everything you want from me. I want us both satisfied and limp and incapable of thought.”
“Everything I can give?”
“Yes, Simon.”
She loved his name on her lips. She loved the sense of freedom it gave her, the curl of feminine power his groan sent through her lower belly as she articulated every dark thought that had bloomed into life the moment her eyes had met his. “I want to forget what I gave up. I want to forget how empty my life feels if I let that loss take over. I’m sure you think I’m being hysterical.”
His hand covered her mouth. “I don’t. The moment I looked into your eyes, the moment I saw your grief, I saw myself. I know exactly what you mean, Angel. I’ve mourned too.”
Anya kissed his palm. “Then indulge us both. I want to feel alive. I want nothing but pleasure.”
His mouth found hers with another searing groan.
A blinding wave of need blazed into life in every pore at the contact. All the scenarios she’d played out in her head in the span of a few seconds, all the suppositions and assumptions she’d made about this sudden attraction...everything turned to dust, everything left behind by the instant, consuming heat of his touch.
Her body slammed into his. She moaned as her breasts, already heavy and begging to be touched, flattened against the hard breadth of his chest. His fingers around her neck tightened as he nipped at her lower lip, demanding access.
Anya opened up obediently and then he was licking into her mouth with a demanding eagerness that dialed up her own hunger. They kissed as if this was their last kiss, not their first. As if they already knew each other’s darkest desires. As if they knew how to give what the other needed and demanded without restraint or shame.
His other palm kneaded her hip, pressing long fingers into her willing flesh. Then he moved them up her sides, stroking, learning, tracing, inflaming her while his mouth soothed and licked and laved.
When he left her mouth for a much-needed breath, Anya sank her fingers into his hair and pulled him back. Out of pure, clawing instinct to be closer to him, she lifted her leg and wrapped it around his hip. His hand was at her thigh instantly, holding her up, and then he brought his lower body against hers. Her sex clenched deep and hard at the flutter of his fingers at her inner thigh.
The urgent press of his erection against her groin made a curse rip out of her mouth so filthy that Anya saw the flash of his white grin in the darkness. So full of wicked want that she thrust up against him in a mindless search for more. It was as instinctual as breathing, this need to rile him up into the same frenzy, to drive him toward the edge where she was ready to free-fall. The next time her hips met his, she stayed there, relishing the hard length of him against her lower belly, reveling in the raw proof of what she did to him.
It was his turn to color the air around them and he did it in such explicit detail that Anya blushed far more than from anything they’d done so far.
Her back slammed into the door behind her but somehow he had his palm pressed up between the door and her back before she could be hurt. He was everywhere—in her mouth, on her skin, curling into a deep want in her very muscles.
“I can keep kissing you like this until the night comes to an end,” he said, licking a languorous path over the shell of her ear, kissing his way across her jaw to her mouth, every hard contour of his body pressed up against her.
“More. I need more.”
She felt his smile against her mouth and it was the most sensuous thing Anya had ever experienced. Dampness gushed between her thighs and she moaned, wanting his fingers there. Wanting whatever he’d give her there.
