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“Right, you’d better get them.”
She waited in the hallway outside his room while he disappeared into the darkness. When he returned, he had his duffel in one hand. Her heavy messenger bag was slung over his shoulder. By the time they reached the fourth floor he was breathing hard, proving he was human, after all.
She got the door of her room open, grabbed a fistful of his jacket,and pulled him into the shadows. Neither of them bothered to grope for the light switch.
Ambrose kicked the door shut, slammed the lock home, dropped the duffel and the messenger bag, and reached for her. They fell together across the bed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
This was whatpassion was all about, Pallas thought. She had known pleasant interludes with others, but in the past the experiences had been mild, fleeting, and so remarkably unmemorable that she had sometimes wondered if she was the problem.
Her doubts about her own ability to respond could now be cast aside forever. What she was feeling now might be fleeting, but it was definitely not going to be mild or unmemorable. She would remember this for the rest of her life even if things didn’t get any further than they had right now. This sensation was nothing short of amazing.
Ambrose rolled her under him and came down on top of her, crushing her into the quilt. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment I saw you,” he said against her throat. His voice was husky and urgent.
“Me, too,” she gasped, fighting to get her hands inside his jacket.
“Liar.” He kissed her, his mouth hungry and desperate. When he raised his head his eyes were ablaze. “You wanted to zap me with your Taser.”
“Okay, maybe I wasn’t thinking of doing this exact thing the firstmoment I saw you, but I started thinking about it very soon afterward.”
“Good,” he said. He brushed his mouth across hers. “That’s very good.”
How would they explain this to themselves and each other in the morning? she wondered. Adrenaline overload, maybe; an elemental, hormone-driven response to the need to decompress from the stress of the past few days.
She decided she did not give a damn. She would worry about explanations and rationalizations if and when it became necessary. All that mattered was what was happening right now.
She managed to peel off his jacket and hurl it aside. He eased his hands under the hem of her sweater and pushed the garment up over her head. They undressed each other in a rush of heat, caught up in the volatile energy and power of desire.
Ambrose wasted a precious few minutes searching for a condom in the duffel, and then, finally, they were tangled in each other’s arms, setting fire to the sheets.
She thrilled to the feel of his furnace-hot body. His hands were warm and strong and tender and he was rock-hard. He seemed to know exactly how and where to touch her. Then again, she was sure he could touch her anywhere and in any way and she would respond.
And he was responding to her touch. He wasn’t afraid of her.
When she reached down and captured him in one hand he groaned, shifted onto his back, and pulled her astride his thighs.
“I need to be inside you,” he rasped.
She guided him slowly into her core and took a sharp breath when she realized the sensations she was experiencing hovered between pleasure and pain. She was so tightly wound she was amazed she did not fly apart.
“Sogood,” Ambrose groaned.
He sounded as if he, too, was riding the same exhilarating wave of pleasure-pain. Before she could analyze the experience, her body took control. It was all pleasure after that. The climax cascaded through her, leaving her breathless.
Ambrose gripped her thighs, uttered a muffled roar of satisfaction, and followed her over the edge. Together they sank into the depths.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Ayelp of dismayfollowed by the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the edge of the bed, bouncing off, and sliding to the carpeted floor brought Ambrose out of the glorious aftermath. He sat up very quickly, his eyes and the window in his mind open.
“Pallas?”
“Shit,” she muttered. “Shit, shit,shit.”
She was sprawled on the floor beside the overturned duffel. Her aura blazed with shock and annoyance.
“I’m so sorry.” Ambrose stood, switched on the lamp beside the bed, and reached down to help her to her feet. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head? Anything feel broken? This is my fault. I should never have left the bag there. I was in such a hurry to get that other condom. I was careless.”
