She would be so lost over him if he had chosen a different life than the one he was living—any kind of different life—so, in a way, she should probably be grateful that he kept everything so crystal clear for her.
After some silence, he asked, “Is that all you’re eating?”
She lifted one hand in an indifferent shrug.
He approached to bend over and stick his face between hers and the TV screen. Their gazes collided. His soft, even voice was at odds with the volcanic force in his eyes. “Would you like a grilled cheese sandwich if I made one for you?”
Silently, she nodded. She watched as he went into the kitchen and found everything he needed. He knew his way around a kitchen, his movements purposeful and economical. His expression gave away nothing of what he was thinking.
When he returned, he carried a plate piled with grilled cheese sandwiches, another bowl of salad, and a glass of wine. She scooted over to make room, and then they sat and watched the news while they ate.
Once she took her first bite of sandwich, her appetite roared in and she ravenously ate the rest. He took away the plates and bowls, poured himself more wine, and when he came back to the couch, he put an arm around her and propped his feet up on the coffee table.
She held very still, but the warmth of his body was too much to resist. Melting against his hard length, she let her head rest tentatively on his shoulder. He cupped the side of her head and drank wine.
Was this all right? The experience flowed into places she wasn’t sure she wanted it to go. It felt too warm, too good. It felt too right for her to give in to it entirely. She turned her cheek into his shirt and closed her eyes. “Why did you come back?”
“Because I want this weekend with you more than I want to react or fight.” His chest moved in a sigh. He drank more wine and stroked her hair. “Don’t think about it too hard, okay?”
She nodded. Sometime later, she said telepathically,
Just when she thought he wasn’t going to answer, he said,
Ah. That suited him. She smoothed the T-shirt over his chest.
He kissed her forehead.
Toothy leviathans swam underneath the calm, peaceful surface they created, but if he could restrain himself from poking them, she could too. Gradually the tension eased out of her body and she dozed. She only woke when he turned off the television and picked her up to carry her into the bedroom.
“I have two perfectly sound legs and feet that work quite well together,” she remarked in a sleep-blurred voice.
“Yes, you do, but I’ve discovered I like carrying you around. Don’t rob me of that enjoyment.”
She clearly heard what he had left unspoken. Don’t rob me of that enjoyment while I can have it.
When he eased her onto the bed, she laid a hand to his cheek and kissed him. He made a sound at the back of his throat, settled the weight of his body on hers, and kissed her with so much passion and hunger it was almost enough to reshape their futures.
Almost enough to reshape everything.
Heat and light exploded between them. It was sex mingled with a gush of Power. His, hers. He swore, a guttural, foreign-sounding word, gripped her hips with both hands, and thrust her legs apart with his.
A fine sweat broke out over her skin. She felt fevered. In that moment she needed him more than she needed anything else. More than air, than light. Than food. How excruciating, dramatic. It was unsustainable. They would burn themselves out on each other.
But they hadn’t burned out yet. She raised herself up on her elbows to lick and nip at his flat male nipples while he fingered her, preparing her for his entrance. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back to plunge down for a searing kiss, his hardened lips slanting over hers while he invaded her with his tongue.
His roaring, sensual drive shook her. She had originally thought he was so cold, so calculating. How could she have been so mistaken about him?
When he positioned his cock at her entrance and pushed in, she rose to meet him, and the empty ache at her core turned to a sharp spike of pleasure. As he took her, she