Deadly Little Secrets Page 0,75

She couldn’t keep it up. She couldn’t keep thinking. Nothing existed but her completion, his gorgeous face behind her, his hands on her hips, gripping her, holding her to him as he shouted his release.

“Ana! Ah!” He twitched and pressed deeper, pulsing within her as they both dived into delight yet again. No one, ever, had made her feel this way, brought her to such easy passion, delivered so much pleasure, so many times.

He banded an arm around her waist, holding her still. “You’re bewitching,” he stated, keeping them connected for another minute as he kissed her behind the ear. “I think I’m going to need another shower.”

“Mmmm, yes,” she agreed. “But we have to check our phones.”

He sighed, loosing her with obvious reluctance. “Yes, I know. Duty calls, but Ana?”

She turned in his embrace, facing him. “Yes?”

“Nothing changes how special this is, was. Nothing.”

Joy welled up within her, knowing he felt the same way she did. “Yes.”

“A woman of few words,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “Thank you for the best night’s sleep I’ve had in…years.”

He rested his big hands on her shoulders, kissed her. “We’ll check the phones, and I’ll wash off. We’ll go from there, okay?”

“Okay.”

He stripped, then walked into the living room to retrieve his BlackBerry. “Hmmmm,” he muttered, scrolling through e-mail and scanning the entries. Back in her robe, she did the same, trying not to stare at the sheer masculine beauty of his body. There were scars on his back, one that tracked down the back side of one bicep, but they didn’t change the overall vision of incredible manhood. To say he was a prime specimen seemed too pale a term.

“What?” he said, catching her looking.

“You’re gorgeous,” she said honestly.

It was his turn to blush. “I’m not. Men aren’t gorgeous.”

“Hey, I’m the one looking,” she teased. Delighted that she could shake his constant, even façade.

“We’re never going to get to work if you keep looking at me that way.”

“I know,” she mumbled, ducking her head to look at her own messages. Now she wanted him again, not even for sex, but just to hold her, anchor her in the moment. The list of e-mail and calls blurred before her eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly, coming to her and doing exactly what she’d just been hoping for. He wound his arms around her, tucked her head under his chin, and held on. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she returned the favor, drying her eyes on his shirt, which still hung open, pressing her face into the cloth and inhaling the scent of him as if she’d never smell it again. “Don’t worry. We’ve got a lot to do, but I’ll be back. Tonight if you’ll let me.” He pulled back, tried to see her face, but she ducked her head to erase the last of the tears.

She’d cried more in his arms, in two days, than she had in fifteen years.

“It’s not that,” she managed. “It’s everything.” He stiffened a little bit, and she squeezed his ribs. “Stop that. I want you to come back. I do,” she insisted, looking up now to let him see the truth of her words. “I’m just a little overwhelmed.”

She was holding him closely enough that she felt him relax, felt his relief. “That’s understandable. I’ve sent for the car; it should be here in about forty minutes. Where do you want me to drop you?” He said it as if there were no question that he would be doing it, no argument.

Well, she wasn’t in a mood to argue anyway, she decided, letting it go. By the time the car arrived, she’d managed to make them coffee, and a bagel. Other than an intimate smile, and a thank you, he’d been immersed in his work, as had she. She quickly answered a text from Jen that said she was meeting Jack D’Onofrio in Vegas again. Frowning, she wondered if Jen was getting in too deep with this guy before she really knew him. Realizing the irony of the thought, since she’d just slept with Gates, she answered with a positive spin.

Other than the click of texts and an occasional comment about work, they rode in relative silence to her office, each engrossed in the details of their business. The caresses and absent touches were a conversation of a whole different kind.

“Do you have anything on The Bootstrap Foundation?” she asked, flipping through her daybook, noting the list of names she still had to check and