And lower.
He lavished attention on her breasts and her belly, then settled in between her thighs, easing her legs over his shoulders, guiding her knees wider to claim better access. She clutched his head and moaned broken encouragements as he kissed her long and slow and deep. He caressed her with his fingers at the same time, enjoying the feel of her as well as the taste, his mind a hot whirl of excitement and lust for her. At the same time, he remembered to be careful with her, to gauge her readiness. Her body was still new to this, inexperienced, in need of gentle handling.
New but so eager. She was a natural to loving.
It didn’t take her long to reach the peak. He felt the quick, hot flutter of her climax against his tongue and she held him tightly to her, crying out, then whispering his name. Her body lifted, bowing up. He stayed with her, kept on kissing her, pressing his tongue at her core, his hands beneath her, cradling her, lifting her closer to his eager mouth.
She shuddered, cried out again and then, with a sigh, went loose. For a little while, he rested his head on her belly and she gently stroked his hair.
In time he rose above her again. Gathering her close to him, he settled her head against his shoulder.
She sighed and whispered, “I want you, Dami....”
“Shh.” He kissed her temple.
But she pushed up on an elbow and met his eyes. “I want all of you.” Her upper lip was damp with sweat.
He took her face between his hands, pulled her closer and kissed her. “Soon,” he said against her mouth. “Shh...” He stroked the short wisps of chestnut hair back from her damp forehead.
“Now,” she argued, catching his lower lip between her pretty teeth, biting down a little so that the fine ache of wanting her intensified and he groaned. And then, more firmly, she commanded, “Now.”
Who was he to refuse her? Whatever she wanted, he would make sure that she had.
She watched him, her hair a wild tousle of short curls, her eyes low and lazy, looking equally satisfied and determined, as he took one of the condoms from the table by the bed. He had it out of its wrapper and on him in a quick well-practiced series of actions—and carefully, too, so as not to rupture or tear it.
She put her hand to his cheek then, urging him down to her until his mouth settled on hers and they shared another long, sweet kiss.
And what a kiss. She did learn fast. Kissing her now, it was hard to remember how very innocent she had been such a short time ago. This kiss was a woman’s kiss, a kiss she took, a kiss she owned. And while she kissed him, she was moving under him, her hands all over him, urging him to cover her.
He gave her what she wanted, burning to have her, impatient as any green kid by then. She made him so hot and needy. She stole his jaded, world-weary nature, gave him back all this urgency, this greed, this heated, hungry tenderness.
He settled above her and she opened to accept him. He tried to go slow, to be careful, be mindful.
But there was no mindfulness for him with her. There was only the welcoming wet heat of her, only her soft hands all over him, pulling him down to her.
Into her.
She took him, she owned him, she moved beneath him and he was the one following, giving back what she gave to him, taking her cues and answering in kind without conscious thought, without calculation. His mind was a whirl of impressions and images. And all of them were of her.
Lucy, too thin, too pale the first time he saw her, running down the steps at her brother’s house, her smile blooming in greeting for him, a stranger. Lucy in his arms for a dance that same night, the tip of the scar between her breasts fresher, deep pink. Lucy in her workroom at the house in California, her head bent over a sewing machine, feeding bright fabric under the humming, swift needle....
And Lucy now, beneath him, flushed, sure, powerful.
He gave himself up to her. She took him and she opened him and she turned him inside out.
* * *
A little while later he made a quick trip to the loo to dispose of the condom. He returned to her and gathered her close and they lay on the bed in the silvery light from the big window, naked, together, watching the snow come down. Her fat orange cat jumped up in the window and watched the snow with them.
He felt content in a way he hadn’t for a single day since she left him alone in Montedoro. She was so easy to be with. It had always been that way between them: comfortable. Right. He’d feared that having sex with her would ruin the easiness.
So far it hadn’t. Maybe he’d get lucky after all. This new hunger they had for each other would run its course and they would still have their friendship.
God. He hoped so.
He stroked her hair and ran a finger up and down her arm.
She sighed. “That was so good. Oh, Dami, about sex? Seriously, I had no idea what I was missing. And I’m so glad I decided to learn from the best.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “No regrets, then?”
“None. And it’s not only the sex, Dami. It’s...this. You and me, alone, just being together. This is so good.”
He pressed a kiss against her hair, breathing in the womanly scent of her. “Better than good.”
She lifted up enough to look down at him and meet his eyes. “So tell me. I have to know. How long are you here for? Are you staying upstairs? You weren’t wearing a coat, which I’m guessing means you went up to your apartment first.... And what are you here for? Business? Where’s your bodyguard? When did you get here? Oh, Dami, how I have missed you.”
He chuckled. “I missed you, too.” Far too much. “And do you really expect me to remember all those questions?”
She kissed his shoulder. “Try.”
That made him smile. “Fair enough, then. I’ll be here through the first part of next week, at least. Yes, I’m staying upstairs. I have some meetings, a project in the works.”
“What—?”
He stopped her next question with a finger to her mouth. “Wait until I answer the ones you already asked.” She pressed her lips together and nodded in a promise of silence—one he knew she couldn’t keep. He said, “Quentin, my bodyguard, is now in his room off my apartment. He’s not happy that I refused to let him come down here with me so he could check your rooms for threats.”
“Oh, right. I could be planning to kidnap you and hold you for ransom.”
“Exactly. You could be a very dangerous woman.”
“I could chain you to my bed and never let you go.”
He lifted his head long enough to kiss the tip of her nose. “It’s an intriguing idea, one we should discuss in depth later.”
She put on a shocked expression. “Oh, now I get it. You’re the one who’s dangerous.”
“Didn’t I warn you about that?”
“You did. I didn’t listen—and I’m so glad I didn’t.”
He caught her chin. “Kiss me.” She lowered those soft, warm lips to his in a brushing kiss that ended too soon. He stared up at her and stroked her velvety cheek. “You are dangerous,” he whispered.
And she giggled. “I guess you needed Quentin here after all.”
“No, I didn’t. He’d have gone around opening your cabinets and peering in your closets. I didn’t want that for our reunion.”
She kissed his shoulder. “Our reunion. I like it.”
Damien