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Their eyes caught as he straightened, her body in his arms. Anne couldn’t look away from the storm promised in his eyes. Her breath caught in her chest as her arms wrapped around his neck, seemingly of their own volition.
There was something deep and meaningful between them. Something she was almost afraid to name. It was as though his soul knew hers and the rest was just window dressing and bumps along the way. The match was made, which itself was terrifying.
Blane carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. Anne shifted.
“My hair is too wet,” she said, letting the towel slide aside. “I don’t want to ruin the sheets and pillows.”
Blane’s heart stuttered. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating her body in shades of silver. Her curves were perfect. Breathtaking. Her eyes reflected the moon’s light, seeming to glow and entrancing him.
Wait. What had she said? Oh yes. Her hair.
“I’ll get a brush,” he managed.
He hunted the bathroom until he found another towel and brush, then returned to her. She was lying on the bed, her legs bent, hiding her breasts, knees demurely together. Her toes were painted a pristine pink.
The urge to touch her was overwhelming. His cock strained in his jeans.
“I have a brush,” he said, feeling like a horny teenager.
She reached for it, but he held it out of her reach. “I’ll do it.”
Anne hesitated, then moved forward so there was space behind her. Her breasts caught the meager light. Blane’s gaze snagged on the pretty, rose-tipped nipples before her knees again hid them from view.
Blane settled behind her and forced himself to his task and worked the towel through her hair, soaking up the water. Then pulled the bristles of the brush through the damp tresses. She leaned her head back, her eyes closed as he slowly worked through the tangles into a straight mass of soft hair trailing down her back in a satin waterfall.
The soft curve of her shoulders made him want to touch her. The lines of her back were a work of art.
Suddenly, she turned toward him, crouching on her knees. Completely naked and beautiful, Anne gazed at him.
“We almost died today,” she said.
“Yes.”
There were a few moments pause where they just gazed at each other and breathed.
“Be with me,” she whispered.
Blane thought he must be dreaming. This woman. This incredible woman, was in front of him, deliciously naked, and wanting him to make her his, in the most intimate way there was.
His hands drifted up to cup her breasts, soft and warm. Her nipples were hard points that begged to be kissed.
“Make love to me.”
Anne’s throaty request went straight to Blane’s cock, causing an almost painful hardness.
“You’ve been hurt.” His pathetic protest was barely audible.
“I’m fine,” she said. Her hands drifted to his chest and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. Blane couldn’t take his eyes off her face, her gaze focused intently on his body.
Anne’s hands found his skin and they were like electric fire, sending currents through all the nerves in his body. His breath caught. She was so beautiful. Her hair spilled down her shoulders in a raven cascade, begging for his touch.
She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. He shrugged it off and wrapped his arms around her, reveling in the feel of his skin against hers. Her breasts pressed against his chest as her fingers moved to the button of his jeans.
Blane felt like an overeager, over-hormoned teenage adolescent, needing his first orgasm.
He wanted her. He needed her. And he needed to show her that.
His arms curled around her back and jerked her hard against his body, his hand tangling in her hair. She uttered a cry of surprise, and his heart rate skyrocketed.
