“Go,” she whispered huskily even as her hands clung to him. “You’re scaring me.”
“You didn’t used to be afraid of anything.”
“Not even of hungry lions.” She laughed weakly.
“Funny, I value my life so much now that I’m afraid to pick up my camera, afraid of you…afraid of feeling all this…”
She didn’t look afraid. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes glowed. Every inch of her felt electric and silky and hot.
“I’m afraid of dying now… I think because I want to live so much,” she said.
The mists were seeping into her wide-open windows, swirling around them. In the distance he could hear the mating cry of a wild bull alligator in the swamp.
“Kiss me,” he said, his voice rougher, needier.
Then, too impatient to wait when she remained frozen, he claimed her mouth, driving his tongue deeply inside her with a violence that scared him even more than it frightened her. His hands slipped beneath her T-shirt and unhooked her bra.
“You taste delicious. Like champagne,” she said.
He should slow it down, but he couldn’t.
With a shudder, his arms wound tighter and he forced her closer.
“Two glasses. Couldn’t resist,” he said. “Not much really.”
His breath was loud and harsh now. He wanted to possess her with every cell in his being, and he was fast losing control.
Besides pressuring her, what he was doing was probably wrong on a dozen levels. But when she began kissing him back, hesitantly at first, her lips were sweet and hot and quivering beneath his. Then when she gave him all she had, he was soon driven past all thought and reason.
As if shocked by the pleasure he gave her, she let out a startled cry.
His arms wound tighter. He had to have her. And it was more than a physical need.
To hell with right and wrong and sanity, he thought as his need blazed ever higher until it consumed him.
“Did you bring a condom this time?” she whispered, sounding as frantic with passion as he felt.
Cici was being stupid, and she hated that because she always regretted being stupid later. Logan Claiborne was the one man she should never sleep with because he held the key to a part of herself she wanted to protect forever.
So why had she made sure he had plenty of condoms? So why was she lying naked on his bed with him sprawled heavily on top of her? They’d barely started making love, but already, with his every caress, with his every kiss, he was stripping her soul so bare that she felt like she was crashing and shattering and flying into a million jagged pieces.
After he was finished with her tonight, would she ever be able to feel whole again?
Logan’s mouth traveled from her throat down her belly, across her scar, pausing there and kissing it so tenderly that she wept.
Her breath stopped and she began to quiver. In a flash she remembered holding their precious son in her arms that one time.
Their son. The only human being she’d ever loved half so much as that darling child was Logan.
Only when Logan’s lips moved ever lower, and he found her softest, most secret flesh and began stroking her there, could she stop thinking about their lost baby and breathe again. But soon, too soon, he had her emotions in turmoil again and she was, clinging and shaking, but by then he was, too.
Wet and ready for him, even before he spread her legs and laved her long and deeply, she drove her finger through his hair and drew his head closer, moaning as his skillful mouth and deft tongue licked her and sent shiver after shiver hotly pulsing through her, evoking forbidden longings she hadn’t felt in years.
Hadn’t wanted to feel!
She bit her lips and tightened her fists in an attempt to fight her fierce pleasure. But it didn’t work because what she felt was too powerful.
A younger, more naive Cici had imagined herself madly in love with him in this same room. She’d lost that happy, glowing feeling at immense cost to her soul, because he’d thrown her away. To save his brother, he’d claimed.
She did not want to be in love with him again. He was too cold and logical. Too cruel. He’d shown her once that he was a man who always did what was best for him or his family.
But what if she was no more in control of her easily bruised heart than she had ever been?
Maybe her fierce anger and the self-destructive hatred that had driven her to taunt death had been the dark side of her love for him. What if she was willing to risk anything to be his, willing to pay any price for another chance?
When his tongue found the zone and began licking small, satiny circles, a series of wild thrills such as she had never known rippled through her. Opening wider, she arched her pelvis against his mouth.
The garçonnière was an utterly dark cocoon. Nine years ago, in this same bed, she’d been a virgin. Again she reminded herself that he’d taken her and then had cruelly discarded her.