the edge of the bed in a pair of boxer shorts. He looked up at me and smiled and it was such a winsome look that I smiled back.
“You’re beautiful when you smile like that,” he whispered, standing and moving toward me. I noticed the slight tenting of his boxers and whipped my gaze back to his eyes. Gently he said, “I believe that, to quote you, it was something like ‘sex and the whole near-death-reaffirming-life thing,’ wasn’t it?”
I continued to stare at him, unsure what to do. I had had two lovers in my lifetime, both results of relationships affectionately referred to as monogamous monotony by my girlfriends. Neither relationship had left me with a wild, passionate view of sex. One ex-boyfriend had even accused me of being an ice princess, unreachable, unpleasurable. Such stellar reviews of my past performance definitely tainted the developing fantasy I had about the man standing in front of me. So did I give in to the raging primal instinct to reaffirm life, or did I stick to my basic moral code and lock myself in the bathroom and wish him luck with himself? Of course, in all my mental ramblings I’d forgotten to take into consideration one thing: the man himself.
Bahlin approached me slowly, his boxers twitching from their internal assault. He reached me and, instead of pulling me up into a wild embrace, he ran a finger down my bare arm leaving a trail of goose flesh in its wake. I looked up into his eyes and they were the deep, dark sapphire color that had stolen my breath in my first night’s dream. He sank his head toward me and brushed his lips over mine, breathing out the words, “A stór,” as he nibbled his way to my jaw. I was barely breathing, scared to encourage him and equally scared he’d stop his exploration of my neck, then my shoulders. He began working his way back up to my ears, his breath hot.
“Ah, my love, you’re such a temptation,” he whispered.
“You don’t love me,” I whispered back.
He lifted his head, drawing his attention from my ear to my eyes. “You don’t know that,” he said in a gentle voice.
“I do,” I said. “You’ve not known me long enough for me to drive you crazy. The only people who loved me unconditionally are dead.” Tears blurred my vision and I looked down, giving them permission to slip down my cheeks.
“Ah, your parents.” He lifted his hand from my shoulder to chin and pushed up gently, forcing me to meet his gaze. “They are gone but never forgotten, mo muirnin. Never doubt that.” He stroked a finger down my neck, and I shivered. “And, with all respect due you, I don’t believe you’re qualified to tell me how I do or don’t feel.”
I nodded my head too fast, pushing yet more tears over the dam of my lower lashes. He bent his head even closer to mine and kissed the tears away.
“We are fated, you and I,” he said.
“Fated? Is that what I’m not supposed to know?”
“Ah, no.” He took a deep breath and stepped back from me. But he didn’t elaborate.
I felt adrift in the large room without him to serve as my anchor. I reached out for him, and he stepped into me with the passion I had expected with his first approach. He wrapped his arms around me and crushed me to his chest so tightly I let out an oompf and he laughed, squatting down and picking me up by wrapping his arms around my upper thighs before spinning me around. I locked my hands behind his neck and bent my forehead to his.
“Do you want me as much as I want you, mo chrid?” he asked, sliding me slowly down the front of his body. His erection, trapped behind the thin cotton of his underwear, was blazing hot against my lower belly as he gripped my hips and held me close to him.
I let my head fall back and he feasted on my neck, kissing and nipping from jaw to shoulder with more intent than moments before. He quickly dipped his head and licked his way along the top of my left breast over my heart, slipping his tongue under the edge of the towel.
“Holy crap,” I gasped, as the heat of his tongue went straight to my womb. I had never been so aroused in all my life and this man had taken me there in minutes.