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“Got a thing for pearls?” she teased.
“More like for diamonds in the rough. Forged under pressure,” he said, and something in her swooned. “This was the closest I could get. I take it out every night. Look at it. Feel it between my fingers. Think of you.”
Her gaze went back to his. A sweet warmth coursed through her. Sweeter yet was that she saw he was embarrassed. “That’s borderline weird,” she said.
“You’re being nice. I’m sure it sounds completely weird.”
Who was she to judge?
He put the pearl back in the chest, shut it and rose, holding the first-aid kit.
She stood, stopping him with a hand on his chest. “It’s also really romantic.” In a weird way that she adored.
The night of the gala had been magical for her. Because of him. Running into him when she’d been alone and feeling a bit lost, uncomfortable. Talking to him. Dinner and dancing. Those smooth moves of his. That kiss.
All with him.
It was like Cupid had aimed, released his arrow. And she’d mistaken it for an assassination attempt by the gods.
“I meant what I said last night,” he said, his gaze caressing her face the way she longed for his hand to.
“I know.” She lifted onto the balls of her feet, still wearing those treacherous heels. And captured his mouth with hers.
Her arms went around his neck, fingers diving into his lush hair. Their bodies slammed together, hers vibrating as the kiss grew rough, nearly brutal with a wild recklessness. His mouth was hot, this time possessive, and she welcomed it. The shock of it sent flares rippling straight to her center.
And the warrior, the survivor in her who had been fighting for so long, so hard, shattered into a thousand pieces. The pain, the loss, the guilt, the anger she’d lived with every single day melted away. Like ashes in rain.
She loved his hair, thick and silky. His mouth. The way he kissed her. She loved his rough hands on her skin, his warm palms pulling her closer.
Desire pooled inside her as his lips moved over hers, kissing down her neck. She rocked her hips against him, aching to get as close as possible.
Pushing him down onto the bed, she straddled him. Kissed him harder, desperation sliding into every stroke of her tongue. His hand slid up, cupping her breast. The other was on her hip. He adjusted their bodies until she was nestled right on top of the rock-hard bulge in his jeans. For too long, she’d been avoiding and wanting this man. Every nerve in her body was alive with the anticipation of spending the next few hours naked with him.
She needed him.
“I want you,” she said, the breath shuddering in her lungs as she rocked her hips on him.
“But I need more than the just physical.”
Sex, when she chose to have it, was on her terms, always quick and satisfying a basic need. Even with Orson.
Maybe that’s why he needed variety. Because she hadn’t been willing to do tricks. Perform like a circus act.
But with Brian, there was a tangling of emotions. A war on her instincts. A battering of expectations. He wasn’t looking for entertainment, some carnal thrill.
He wanted to go deeper. To connect by making love.
Another first for her.
“I know,” she whispered, nibbling at his mouth, craving all of him. She had no idea that being vulnerable could make her happy. But it did. “I understand.”
Making love to him would be taking a giant leap of faith...that he wouldn’t break her heart.
But she wasn’t blindly jumping in. Her eyes were wide open. And she saw Brian for who he was. A good, strong man. With a kind heart. Not perfect Captain America, but fallible. A guy who could take a licking and keep on ticking.
“What are you saying?” he asked, with a baffled look, cradling her face in his hands.
“I’m saying yes.” She was giving him a chance. “Don’t blow it.”
