She struggled to sit up, but strong arms pulled her close as he whispered soft, soothing words. The action was rote; the man was still sleeping and despite the absurdity of the situation, she felt herself relaxing, her body savoring the feel of his skin against hers. There was nothing here to be afraid of. She knew that as clearly as she knew her own name.
The rational part of her brain questioned her sanity, but her heart felt like it was home. She could feel it in the strength of his arms around her and the hot whisper of his breath against her cheek.
And yet he was a stranger.
A stranger who had saved her life.
Or at least gotten her warm again.
Her head still ached, but she was no longer wet and cold. She reached down to cover his hand with hers, and in so doing brushed across her bare breast. She was naked. He shifted against her.
So was he.
A hot blush rushed to her face, but she didn’t pull away. There was something so wonderfully decadent in the fact that she was lying here with a stranger. A man who’d stolen her breath when she’d first seen him.
Or maybe that had been the cold, some rational corner of her brain insisted. But she pushed the thought away. Life was for living. If she’d learned nothing else in the wake of her parents’ deaths and Justin’s defection, it was that the things you loved most could disappear in an instant.
And she wasn’t going to lose this moment. Even if it was only fantasy. Because lying here next to this stranger, she felt as if everything was right with the world. As if having him with her was more important somehow than breathing.
Of course none of that made any sense at all. It had to be her brain compensating for the pain. She smiled. If this was compensation, she’d hit the mother lode. She lay for a moment, just relishing the cadence of his breathing and hers. The soft inhale and exhale of breath. Life at its most basic.
In and out, in and out.
And then suddenly she found herself wondering what would happen if she were to roll over. To press herself against him. To open herself to his kisses. To relish the touch of his hands on her body. To feel him moving deep inside her.
The thought was both enticing and insane. God, she wanted him. More than she’d ever wanted a man before. And again the enormity of what she was considering hit her hard. She wasn’t the kind of woman to take risks. To throw herself at a stranger.
But then again, look where playing the girl next door had gotten her.
Again she smiled, the wind outside still whipping beneath the eves of the house. Maybe thiswasjust a fantasy. And if that were true, then she’d be damned if she’d wake without knowingat least what he tasted like. There was nothing to be gained in virtue. She was already lying skin to skin with the man.
And besides, she still couldn’t shake the certainty that she had done this before. With this man. There was nothing here to be afraid of. No risk. No danger at all. He belonged to her.
The thought startled her, and yet she didn’t reject it. Instead, she rolled over.
His face was deep in shadow, but she could still make out the strong line of his jaw. This wasn’t a man to trifle with, even in sleep. The thought was fleeting but she knew it to be the truth. And still she wasn’t afraid. Slowly, half fearing that he’d disappear, she reached out her hand, brushing her fingers across his cheek.
His eyes opened, and his gaze collided with hers.
She waited, holding her breath, her heart pounding even as her body tightened in anticipation. For what seemed an eternity he looked into her eyes, and then with a groan, he pulled her close, his lips closing over hers, his mouth hungry, demanding.
She opened her mouth, their tongues dueling, her body trembling with the contact. He deepened the kiss, and she drank him in, his taste seeming almost familiar.
“Lily.” He whispered her name and she pressed against him, desperately needing to feel his heat.
His lips stroked hers, taking and giving, stirring the fire inside her. The little voice in her head called for her to stop. But God help her, she didn’t want to. All she wanted was him. Lightning split the sky, the crescendo of thunder chasing behind it. Where before the storm had threatened her, now, its fury fed her senses. His strong hands cupped her breasts as he kissed her, thumbs circling, desire mixing with pleasure until she could hardly breathe.
“Lily,” he whispered again. “Are you sure, then?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice hoarse with desire.
His lips trailed along the line of her neck, shivers of pure passion rocking through her. She pressed against him, wanting to feel closer—to feel a part of him. His lips moved lower, tracing the swell of her breast. She arched upwards, needing more, and he obliged, pulling her nipple into his mouth, the resulting pressure almost her undoing.
She ground her hips against him, offering herself, and he slid his hand lower, his fingers hot as they moved against her skin. While teasing her nipple with his lips and teeth, he slid a finger inside her, the friction setting off shivers of pleasure. She fought for breath even as she pressed closer—wanting more.
His finger moved, in and out, stroking teasing. And then his thumb pressed against her secret spot and she moaned as pleasure surged through her.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his breath hot against her breasts, his finger moving in and out, each succeeding stroke deeper, stronger. “Tell me.”
