He nearly groaned out loud when she lifted her dessert spoon to her lips and licked the last remnant of chocolate from the silver surface, her pink tongue so tempting, so provocative that he could have almost found his release just watching her work the spoon in that slow, sensual way. It was way too easy to imagine that tongue on his bare skin.
“What’s your stance on love?” she asked, lowering the spoon and setting it on the table.
“I’ve been in love. I don’t believe I’ll ever love anyone besides my … Selena. I don’t want to love anyone else.” Not because he was so attached to her memory, but because nothing about it had been worth the pain he’d endured. He’d lost Selena several times over. In the end, an impenetrable wall had gone up between them, and he hadn’t been able to reach her anymore. He hadn’t been able to protect her, from her grief, from death. He had no desire to ever go through that kind of hell again.
“So you don’t think you’re going to meet someone else?” she asked, her copper eyes deadly serious.
“I’m marrying you. You’re the only ‘someone else’ there’s going to be.”
“But if you did want someone else would you tell me?”
“I won’t.”
“But if you did,” she persisted, “would you tell me? I don’t want to be played for a fool, Max, and I really don’t want to be cheated on.”
“I would tell you. You have my word that, if we were to enter into a physical relationship, I would never even entertain the thought of being unfaithful to you.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened by the pool,” she said slowly.
Tension knotted his muscles and the fire in his stomach was starting to rage out of control.
She raised her eyes to meet his and he was struck by how dark they’d gotten. She was aroused. He was definitely familiar with the signs, and his own body was more than ready to take hers up on its blatant offer.
“I want to make love,” she said, her voice steady. If he hadn’t spotted the slight tremor in her delicate hands he would have never known she was nervous.
“You wanted to make love by the pool. You wanted to make love that day in your room. In fact, you wanted to make love that first day in Turan, but you pulled back every time.”
“I know. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.” She rose from her chair, moved to stand in front of him, then leaned in and he was transfixed by her beauty, by the clear, pale skin of her flawless face, by the creamy swells of her breasts spilling over the skimpy neckline of her dress. Splaying her hands over his chest she explored him, ran her fingertips over his muscles. He sucked in a sharp breath, his body so close to the edge he was in danger of going right over.
“I want you,” she said softly, leaning in and pressing her lips against his. He let her control the kiss, let her explore his mouth slowly, her tongue moving tentatively over the seam of his lips. When they separated she was panting, and he realized he was, too. “I trust you. I’m certain of that now.”
“And you needed to trust me?” he asked, running his fingers through her silken, strawberry hair, reveling in her softness, her femininity.
“Yes. The attraction between us is so strong … I’ve never felt this way before and it scared me. It still scares me. But now I know you aren’t going to use it against me.”
“I’m not going to fall in love with you, either,” he said roughly, hating himself for needing to be honest, especially if it might make her change her mind again.
“I know. I don’t want to fall in love with you, either. But I do want your respect. I wanted to make sure you weren’t just going to play with me, and no one wants to get cheated on, or abandoned.”
He cupped her chin. “I swear to you that I will never leave you. And I will never humiliate you, or disrespect you, by taking another woman into our bed.”
“I believe you.”
She sank onto his lap and twined her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through his hair. “My whole body aches for you,” she said, meeting his eyes.
“Mine, too,” he said, taking her hand and placing it over his erection, showing her how much he wanted her. She moved her hand over his length, her expression so full of awe that he couldn’t help but take stupid masculine pride in it.
“I think we should take this upstairs.”
“The table looks fine to me,” he growled, not knowing where this feral, uncivilized desire came from, not knowing what he could do to control it. She revealed something inside of him he hadn’t known existed. And he didn’t want to tame it; he wanted to unleash it.
“One of the staff could come in,” she said breathlessly.
He pressed a kiss to the elegant line of her neck. “Now that we don’t want. This is definitely a two-person party.” He nuzzled the tender spot just beneath her ear-lobe and reveled in the feminine sigh of pleasure she rewarded him with. She was so eager, so responsive, and he loved it.
Alison slid from his lap, her heart pounding wildly. She’d done it. She’d committed to doing this. And she wasn’t sorry for it at all. She wanted him. Needed him in a way that shocked and terrified her. She didn’t know this wild, wanton version of herself. She felt as if she could do anything with him, could let him do anything to her. She trusted him with her body, wholly and completely, and the prospect of doing that only excited her.
As he stood from the chair and took her hand, his eyes burning with erotic intent, she wished, for the first time in her life, that she’d had sex with someone at some point, just so she wasn’t going into this blind. Maximo had lots of experience—she’d seen the evidence of that thanks to the photos of the parade of women he’d dated in his early twenties, and he’d been married for seven years. She didn’t even have a lot of kissing experience to recommend her.
On the other hand, he would make it good for her. He would know what he was doing. At her age, after having received exams from gynecologists and OBs and having the artificial insemination done she doubted there would be much of a barrier for him to deal with, if there was one at all. And that, coupled with all of his experience, would probably lessen any discomfort she might feel. And, with any luck, he might not notice.
She nearly laughed at that thought. Of course he would notice her inexperience. There was no way she was going to be able to fake some kind of blasé sophistication. Not when his touch just about melted her.
But his hand felt so good, so warm encircling hers that it was hard to care too much. He held on to her as he led her up the stairs, took her to his bedroom. There was no turning back now. And she didn’t want to.
“Alison.” He closed the door behind them and pulled her to him, bringing her up hard against his masculine chest. She spread her hands over his pecs, running them down his flat stomach, feeling the ridges of his ab muscles through his shirt. She’d never explored a man’s body like this before, never took the time to appreciate all of the delicious differences between men and women.
He kissed her again, his mouth hard on hers, and she parted her lips willingly, meeting each thrust of his tongue with her own. He slid his hands over the silken material of her dress, over