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She lifted her hands to try to shove him away, then dropped them onto the torn-up sheet, arching her body, lifting her hips so he could use his wicked, wicked tongue on her, sliding his fingers inside her as she trembled, touching her, teasing her, pushing her deeper into a strange dark place filled with stars.
She knew he moved away, but her body kept convulsing, over and over, an endless wave of climaxes that left her limp, weak and breathless. He wiped his mouth on the sheet and then rolled onto his side, pulling her to face him, lifting one of her legs over his. She could feel the head of his cock against her, just touching her, and she went wild with need.
“Please,” she said.
He pushed into her, and she could feel her body clenching, trying to draw him in deeper, but he was maddeningly distant.
“More?” he asked, his voice low and hypnotic.
“More,” she said. He pushed in just a little more, pulling out again, a gentle, shallow rhythm that was worse than no penetration at all.
“More,” she said breathlessly, clutching his narrow hips, trying to rush him. But he was stronger than she was, and he only gave her a little bit more.
She wanted to scream, to beat at his chest. “More,” she repeated, and he pushed in farther, half of him sheathed inside her.
And out again, almost completely, and she moaned
in despair. “More,” she said. “Please, God, more. More. More.”
With each cry he pushed in farther, until he filled her, thrusting deep, and she was clinging to him, her fingers digging into his arms as she sobbed in relief and need. It felt as if she’d been empty all her life, and now she was filled, complete, and she wanted it to last forever. She needed to get closer still, to sink into his very bones. She could feel the power building, taking over her body, and she tried to fight it, tried to make it last. He suddenly turned her under him, slamming deeper still inside her, deeper than she thought possible, and then everything was gone, just his sweat slick body in her arms, his cock filling her, spilling into her as she shattered, broken, lost.
And found, as she sobbed against his pounding heart, his arms around her, his hands stroking her, his lips against her tear-streaked face, while he whispered to her in the language she trusted, soft, loving, praise-filled words.
She was almost asleep when she said it, every single defense and inhibition stripped from her. She didn’t know what words he was whispering as he held her, but she answered the only way she could.
“I love you,” she said, as she drifted into a deep, sex-drugged sleep. For a moment she thought she felt his body tense, and then everything vanished, and she was asleep.
23
Taka was gone when she finally woke, and Summer was almost glad. She wasn’t quite sure how she could face him after the endless night they’d spent.
She woke, instinctively wary, with the real fear that something was wrong. Had she been stupid enough to tell him she loved him? Had she felt him freeze in sudden rejection?
No, she had to have dreamed it. Because he’d woken her again and again, taking her to dark, unexpected places where nothing was forbidden, until her entire body ached, her flesh shivered and either she’d slept or passed out, she wasn’t sure.
But now she was alone, trying to pull some kind of calm back around her in the bright light of day. There were no defenses left—he’d stripped every one away, and she wouldn’t have called them back even if she could.
But neither could she spend the day in bed, waiting for his return.
He was gone, and the urn was missing as well. She wondered where he’d taken it if he’d be back. Of course, he would. And she’d be there, waiting for him.
Even Reno’s shower was a bit scary, she thought as she stood under the hot streams of water coming at her from the oddest directions. With his fascination for new technology, he’d done away with a bathtub altogether, a real shame, since right then there was nothing Summer needed more than a long, soothing soak. She ached all over. She could tell herself it was from the long plane ride, but knew perfectly well that had very little to do with it, unless she counted the time spent in the bathroom. She was achy and sore in unexpected places, aware of muscles in her hips and thighs she didn’t think she’d ever used, and all she wanted was to luxuriate in hot water for an hour, then start using them again.
Taka would be back, probably with Reno, who’d only get in the way. Despite the endless hours in the darkened bedroom, Taka would likely try to talk her into staying while he went off into the mountains after the Shirosama. But he should know by now that she wasn’t going to listen. She was coming with him; she’d gone through too much just to sit behind and wait for news from the front line.
He was perfectly capable of tying her up and locking her in a closet—all for her own good, he’d say. She wouldn’t mind being locked in, if he was in the closet with her. She stepped out of the shower, glancing at her reflection in the mirror, and for a moment she was shocked by what she saw.
She looked different. Healthy and glowing, despite the trauma of the last few days. She looked like someone who’d found what she’d been missing all her life.
Okay, so she’d been stupid enough to fall in love with someone who used sex as a weapon. Fallen in love with a man who’d saved her life countless times, protected her, infuriated her, lied to her, seduced her and given her the best sex she’d ever had.
She could find someone else who was as good in bed as he was. Or at least good enough. Someone who’d had enough practice. But the fact of the matter was, Taka’s finesse in the sack wasn’t just technique. Yes, he knew what to touch, how hard, how soft, how to use his mouth, his hands, his hips, his entire body to bring her shattering pleasure. But deep in her heart she suspected that any man could master any of the same moves and the experience would leave her cold and frustrated. Emotion had nothing to do with sex as far as he was concerned.
Emotion was everything with Summer. And she was enmeshed with Taka, body, mind and soul—addicted to him—and had no idea how she’d ever break away.
There was no way she could change things. She was part of his assignment. She wasn’t insecure enough to think he didn’t find the same kind of pleasure in her body, but he could probably turn that on and off for anyone. Including the woman he was supposed to marry.
Summer would have to learn to live without him, and soon. And like all addictions, the first step to letting go was admitting the habit.
