flushed. So, okay--maybe that hadn't been the smoothest opening. Since then, he'd thought of at least a dozen better ways to start.
"I was under a bit of pressure," he excused himself. He gave a weary shrug, then sat back in his seat and eyed her. "Are you going to tell me why you're here? Or are you enjoying torturing me?"
"I'm here because I love you."
That sounded hopeful, he thought, his body tensing.
"And because I hope you still love me."
Bastien stared at her for a minute, part of him wanting to leap over the desk and take her in his arms and show her how much he still loved her. The other part urged caution. "And what about"--he gestured to his body--"my medical condition?"
Terri gave a laugh. "Medical condition?"
Bastien sighed wearily. "You know what I mean."
She hesitated, then asked, "Do you still love me, Bastien? Or are you so hurt that I needed time to think about this that you aren't sure you want any¬thing to do with me anymore?"
"I still love you," he admitted. "I'll love you for¬ever. Or at least for the next four or five hundred years. After that, we might have to work at it."
Terri grinned and walked around the desk.
Bastien watched her, unable to move, still wary, then gave an "oomph" as she dropped into his lap.
"I can accept your 'medical condition,'" she told him. "And I'd like to spend my life, however long it is, with you. Now, if you wouldn't mind, would you make love to me please?" She slid her arms around his shoulders. "I know we still have talking to do, but I really need to feel close to you again. I've felt so cold and scared inside since you left."
Bastien felt some of the numbness that had claimed him for the last three weeks slip away, and compassion took its place. That was how he'd felt; cold and scared, alone inside. It was like all happiness had gone out of his life along with her. Bastien let his arms slide around her waist, and he dipped his head to kiss her.
She was warm in his arms, and sweet on his lips, but it wasn't until she sighed into his mouth that Bastien felt passion begin to creep warily into him. He'd missed her. He'd missed touching her, talking to her, just being with her. And he'd missed her sighs, her moans, and the way her body moved against his.
Bastien let a hand slide from her waist up to her breast, and he squeezed gently, a small sigh sliding out as she arched her body and moaned in response. He could almost feel the protective ice that had formed around his heart three weeks ago cracking and crum¬bling away. It left his chest aching. He now under¬stood the phrase "I love you so much it hurts." His heart did hurt, and only Terri could soothe it.
"Terri," he murmured, breaking their kiss and trailing his lips over her cheek. "I need you."
"I need you, too." There was a catch in her voice as she admitted it, an excited breathless sound. Then she caught her fingers in his hair and forced his mouth to hers, kissing him with the passion he remembered and yearned for. The ache in his heart eased, but now the rest of his body ached in its place.
Bastien wanted her badly, and didn't think he could be gentle and caring and considerate about it. His instincts urged him to rip at her clothes and bury himself deep inside her. The hand at her breast shifted to the buttons down the front of her blouse, working them carelessly and popping several in his impatience to feel her skin. It was a relief to get the top open. Then he found himself frustrated by the black satin bra she wore underneath. Terri immedi¬ately reached between them and unsnapped the front hook, allowing the material to gape open. Bastien was on those breasts at once, his hands covering and then squeezing the warm soft skin. He broke away and closed his mouth over one erect nipple.
"We should move to the couch," he muttered against her skin.
"No," Terri murmured--and he felt disappoint¬ment shift through him as she suddenly slid away and out of his reach. But it seemed Terri wasn't in the mood for much foreplay, either. Before he could suf¬fer disappointment for long, or even move, she settled back onto his lap, this time straddling him.
"You wore a skirt again," he breathed against