He clenched his teeth and shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s more than nothing,” she whispered. “After all, I told you about my past—you cannot tell me one thing in return?”
He sighed. That was fair. And what he would say would reveal nothing important. At least not anything she wouldunderstandthe importance of.
“My own father didn’t view me as a son,” he said, every word stinging as it came out of his mouth. “In fact, he could scarcely stand the sight of me. So your father’s acceptance on that level, it means more than you could understand. I…I’m sorry I failed him. So sorry.”
She moved closer, and now those bright eyes snapped. “Stop saying that. My father was involved with spies and their duties for decades, Lucas. He knew the risks.”
“As do we all,” he said. “Some of us are destined to die for our country. I just didn’t think that was your father’s destiny.”
Her face twisted in horror. “Are you saying it is yours?” She swallowed hard. “Isthatwhy you avoid taking on the mantel of your title?”
“Partly,” he admitted, and that one word felt like a thousand-pound weight dropped on his damaged shoulders.
“What is the other part?” she pressed.
He shook his head and then slowly pushed to his feet. The water ran down his body and he watched as her attention shifted from his face to his chest and his stomach and his cock.
“I don’t want to talk anymore, Diana,” he said softly.
She held his gaze for a long moment, and then she closed the remaining distance between them. She reached out and pressed her palm to his stomach, stroking her fingers over the firm muscle there.
“I see,” she whispered as she reached back with her opposite hand and caught up a fluffy towel from the table behind her.
She shook it out and handed it over, but he didn’t unfold it. He didn’t cover himself. He just steadied himself on her shoulder and stepped from the tub. He caught her, cupping her backside and drawing her firmly against him. She squealed as his wet body molded to hers, but any playful protest was lost when he dropped his mouth to hers.
As always, she responded. He loved that about her. Her body was made for his. Made to be touched. Made to be worshipped, and he was up to that task, although sometimes touching her made him want to be whole again more than anything else. Whole so he could take her and hold her and pleasure her in a dozen new ways. Ways she hadn’t even thought about before.
But for now, this would be enough. He backed her toward the bed and they fell together. He reveled in how their bodies fit, even as he struggled to keep himself perched on his good arm as he kissed her and kissed her until everything else faded away.
She arched beneath him, little sounds of pleasure already escaping her throat as she drove her tongue against his in needy, powerful desire. His cock ached, his body ached, he needed to be inside of her. Now.
“Roll over,” he grunted as he pulled away.
She did so, sprawling onto her stomach on the bed. He grabbed her hips and tugged her until she was bent over the side, her delectable backside giving him the perfect view of pleasures to come.
Slowly he fisted her skirt in his hand, tugging it up and up her body, over her calves, her thighs, up over her hips and bunched it against her back. He reached around her, rocking against her gently as he untied the waist of her drawers. They dropped around her ankles and left her in just garters and stockings and gorgeous bare skin.
He cupped her backside and she shuddered beneath him. His name escaped her words in a soft breath and she lifted up, offering him everything.
He wanted to take it. He massaged the firm flesh there, tugging her back so he could slide his cock into the crease. She gasped at the shock of him against that forbidden place, but she didn’t protest. She just looked back over her shoulder at him, uncertain.
“I could,” he drawled, holding her stare as he stroked his cock over the rosebud entrance to her entirely distracting bottom. “And you’d like it.”
She bit her lip. “Would I?”
He nodded. “I’d make sure of it. But I have nothing here to ease the way. So not today. Not this time. This time I’ll take…” He trailed off as he slid his cock down, around to the entrance of her sex. When he touched the tip to her, he found her wet, hot, ready. “…here,” he gasped.
She pushed back and he slid in an inch. One inch of heaven as she gripped him like a well-fitted glove. He’d been with many women in his day. He’d always liked pleasure and had done nothing to deny himself.
But this was different. When he thrust into her, filling her from base to tip, it was different. It was unique. It was everything. He entered her body, and there was part of him that felt like he was coming home. To a place he’d never really had. That he belonged with her, joined with her physically and perhaps more than that.
The thought jolted him and he thrust again to erase it. Pleasure skirted up his cock and it did make all these musings fade. He gripped her hips, digging his fingers into her skin, denting the flesh there, probably leaving little bruises. But she moaned in desire and he didn’t stop. He just began to pound against her.
She met him stroke for stroke. Her body clung to him, making him work for the movement, work for the release. And it came, hard and fast and heavy. He focused hard to keep it at bay, for he wanted her to milk it from him with her orgasm.
“Touch yourself,” he grunted.
