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“I’m all yours, Angel,” he said as he pulled her to her feet. He hooked his hands underneath her armpits and lifted. She automatically wrapped her legs around his hips and grasped his shoulders for balance, feeling him hard and heavy against the crux of her thighs, as his hands moved to her hips to hold her. And just like that, she wanted him. But she wanted to be naked, too. Wanted to feel his hard warmth inside her where it belonged. Where he belonged.
He kissed her, putting his whole soul into it. “All yours,” he murmured, grinding his pelvis against hers. Teasing her. “Every inch. Every time. All yours.”
He walked into her bedroom carrying her that way and tumbled her onto the bed. He stripped off her shoes, her slacks, her panties in no time, but left the rest of her clothes untouched. He fitted himself into place, and the teasing expression disappeared. “Tell me you want me,” he demanded. “Tell me.”
She arched her hips upward, wanting everything he offered. Everything he was. “Yes,” she panted. “Yes.”
He surged into her. No foreplay, nothing to prepare her for his entry, but she was already so wet, so ready for him, all she could do was moan in pleasure at the incredible feeling of being stretched, filled, taken to a whole different plane. Then he was riding her hard and fast, so fast she couldn’t catch her breath. So fast she exploded without warning, arching and crying his name as he rocked her with his deep thrusts, her body milking his uncontrollably when he exploded, too, driving himself deep with his last thrust.
They lay there like that forever, it seemed. Her legs locked around his hips, holding him tight and deep inside her. His lips found her throat and he kissed her there, just a slight movement, but enough for her to feel it. He was still shaking, tremors running through his muscles. But so was she. They were both breathing hard, depleted. And yet... Angelina tightened her pelvic muscles around his erection, and he groaned. Not pain, she told herself with a secret smile. Pleasure. So she did it again. Then again.
He groaned each time, but he didn’t ask her to stop. Eventually, though, she was forced to let him go, unlock her legs and let him roll off her body to lie beside her with one arm thrown across his face. He didn’t say anything, just lay there breathing hard. And that was the first inkling she had that something wasn’t right.
“Alec?” She touched his arm tentatively, but he refused to remove it from his face. Then he drew a deep, shuddering breath and sat up abruptly, his arm falling away.
“It’s not enough, Angel. Not for me. Not anymore.”
“I do not understand.”
“I can’t just make love to you and pretend that’s all I want.” He ripped off the condom and disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned, he sat next to her on the bed and dragged a corner of the coverlet over her.
His eyes closed for a moment as an expression she didn’t understand flickered across his face. His jaw tightened and he swallowed. Hard. When his eyes finally met hers, he said, “I...you want to talk sexist? I wanted to mark you as mine. I started out wanting to prove I belong to you, only to you. And then somehow, along the way, that changed. I wanted so badly to prove you belong to me. And I didn’t want to wear a condom this time.”
Angelina caught her breath because it sounded as if Alec was saying...
“I love you, Angel. I wouldn’t admit it to myself until this morning, when Captain Zale came to see me. When I thought something had happened to you. And I realized I don’t want to be a survivor if it means being without you.”
“Alec—”
“I know this isn’t what you wanted,” he continued, cutting her off. “This isn’t what you planned. I know that. But I—”
“Alec—”
“No, let me finish. I can make you happy, Angel, if you’ll let me. I can—”
Angelina reached up, slid her hand around his neck and pulled him down for an endless kiss. When their lips finally parted, she murmured dreamily, “I love you, too, Alec.”
He looked blown away by her confession. “You do? Since when? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She laughed deep in her throat. “To answer your questions in order, yes. Since last night. At least, that is when I admitted it to myself. And I did not tell you because I did not want you to know. Not until...”
“Why didn’t you want me to know?”
She could feel warmth creeping into her cheeks. “Because I am more Zakharian than I knew, and in Zakhar a woman does not...not first, you understand.” She held his gaze. “And because for years I told myself I could not have what other women have. Not and have my career, too. But that was before I met you.”
