least in real life. Which was something of a surprise. She’d been told she was molested as a child and had assumed that had meant . . . Well, apparently it hadn’t included intercourse.
Ildaria let those thoughts go in favor of recalling what had just happened. While this might have been her first real sex, she’d had lots of sex in their shared dreams. But it had not prepared her for the reality of life mate sex. That was another matter altogether. There had been no sweet sighs, no building need. It had been brutal, and explosive and exciting as hell.
Just recalling it was making her nipples hard and causing a warm heat between her legs . . . where she and G.G. were still connected, she realized when he hardened inside her in response to what she was experiencing. The man wasn’t even conscious, but they were still connected both physically and mentally. The return of excitement to her was translating to his body. She marveled over that as he expanded inside her, filling her and bringing on more excitement.
G.G. groaned and she lifted her head to watch his eyes flutter open. He appeared as confused by their position at first as she had been, and a confused G.G. was an adorable one, she thought with a faint smile, her gaze traveling over his face and hair. His Mohawk hadn’t survived their activity. It had fallen and now lay slightly to the side, covering part of the shaved section on one side of his head so that it looked like he had hair there. He would look good with hair, she decided. Although, she liked him with it shaved and just the Mohawk too. But he could never hide with the green Mohawk. It made him easily spotted and recognized in any crowd. Ildaria’s life had always been about hiding. At least, it had been since she was fourteen, and if things did not change, she would have to hide again. Which meant that if G.G. wished to join her, he would have to lose the Mohawk.
That thought troubled her. Ildaria didn’t want him to have to change to be with her. She didn’t want him to have to hide either. He had family and friends and both Night Clubs . . . She couldn’t ask him to give all that up for her. This was none of his fault.
“What are you thinking?”
Ildaria gave a start of surprise at G.G.’s question as she was drawn back to the present. She opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it again. She didn’t want to talk about her fears for the future. She didn’t even want to think about it.
“Angel,” he said quietly. “We’re life mates. Partners. Your burdens and worries are mine too now, and mine are yours. Tell me what is troubling you.”
Much to Ildaria’s amazement, she felt tears sting her eyes and threaten to fall. She had been on her own for so long, with no one to care let alone help or share . . .
“Please,” he entreated gently.
That was her undoing. The words came out like champagne from an uncorked bottle, flowing so quickly she didn’t even realize she’d reverted to Spanish in her upset until G.G. interrupted gently with, “English, please, love. I promise I will learn Spanish eventually, but right now I haven’t got a clue what you’re telling me and I think it’s something I need to know.”
He called me love, Ildaria thought, her mind a little dazed. They were life mates, had been having shared sex dreams for three weeks, and dating for one. She knew love would come. It always did between life mates, but she was sure it couldn’t come this quickly. He was just using the word as an endearment. She was sure he didn’t mean he loved her. But she wished he did. She was already half in love with him, if not wholly. G.G. was the calm in the storm that was her life. He was steady as a rock, compassionate and yet strong. He cared, and not just about her. He cared for his employees and customers too. He listened to all of them patiently and with concern. She’d witnessed that several times the past three weeks. His employees took their problems to him, but so did the customers, all of them knowing he would listen and offer sage advice. It had made her proud each time she’d witnessed it. He was a good man.