Page 46 of Tristan’s Temptation

He sped up, his breath panting and hot in her ear, his grunts and groans and moans reverberating through their bodies, vibrating at the very point their bodies joined. He sped up and drove deeper, harder, sending a thousand shards of agony and ecstasy through her with each lunge.

Her body tightened. She felt it, that something, stalking her and she wanted to be captured. Wanted to be consumed. Just as his cock swelled inside her, just as his essence jerked and gushed into her, it took her. Took her utterly. Took her completely.

She exploded. Imploded. Flew.

And after their hearts, floundering in tandem, had once again calmed, she looked into his eyes. And she knew what that something was.

It was love. And it possessed her.

Completely.

Chapter Ten

Afterward, once they recovered their sanity and reclaimed their clothing, they enjoyed an exotic meal of lamb and jasmine rice. There were no implements so they ate with their fingers and reveled in licking sweet oils from each other’s hands.

“So.” Tristan leaned back on the fat velvet pillows and stared at her. “What did you think of that?”

Shannon took another sip of the delicious wine and sighed. “It was wonderful, Tristan. But…”

A frown flickered across his face. “But?”

She glared at him. “But if you say we shouldn’t do that again, I’ll smack you.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, we’re definitely doing that again.”

“Though…” She tapped her lip with her finger. He tracked the movement with glittering eyes. “Perhaps next time?”

“Yes?”

“Perhaps next time,” she purred, “you can be the one in the chair.”

His expression was priceless. Horror and curiosity and arousal at the prospect of being bound helpless before her ravening desires.

Before long, she had just that. Tristan Trillo. Writhing in the chair and begging, begging for sweet release.

It was sublime.

Something unusual happened the next day.

Tristan and Shannon were late for work. They were never late for work.

He drove her home after their amazing night at the Pleasure Palace and he kissed her on her doorstep. And he kissed her in her foyer. And the hallway. And her bedroom. They spent the remainder of the night in each other’s arms, cuddling and kissing and making love.

Not surprising she forgot to set her alarm.

Not surprising they slept in. Way past ten.

When they awoke, they were both in a state, madly scrambling to dress and wolf down hastily scrambled eggs. He sent her to the office first—he had to stop by his house and change clothes because it would never do to show up in yesterday’s outfit. Besides, if they came in together, late, good God, everyone would notice.

By the time he got there, she was situated at her desk and working diligently. He refused to be annoyed by the way she glanced up, offered him a tight, tiny smile and went directly back to work. But then, Adam was there, riffling through a sheaf of papers.

“Where the hell have you been? We had a conference call with Proctor.”

Hell. Tristan slapped his forehead. “Damn it, Adam. I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Adam boggled. “You…forgot? Proctor? Our biggest client?”

“I’m sure you handled it.”