Page 38 of For the Love of Lilah
“No, I mean...” She looked so lovely when she smiled that way, so young, so fragile. “We decided to be friends.”
“We are.” With her eyes on his, she lifted her hand to smooth back her hair. Her rings glittered in the lamplight.
“And this is—”
“Something we both want,” she finished. When she stepped toward him, he jerked back. The chair tumbled over. Her laughter wasn’t mocking, but warm and delighted. “Do I make you nervous, Max?”
“That’s a mild word for it.” He could barely drag air through his dry throat. At his sides his hands were fisted, twins of the fists in the pit of his stomach. “Lilah, I don’t want to ruin what we have together. Lord knows I don’t want you to break my heart.”
She smiled, feeling a surge of hope through her own nerves. “Could I?”
“You know you could. You’ve probably lost track of the hearts you’ve broken.”
There it was again, she thought as disappointment shuddered through her. He still saw her, would likely always see her, as the careless siren who lured men, then discarded them. He didn’t understand that it was her heart on the line, had been her heart on the line all along. She wouldn’t let it stop her—couldn’t. Tonight, being with him tonight, was meant. She felt it too strongly to be wrong.
“Tell me, Professor, do you ever dream of me?” She stepped toward him; he backed up. Now they stood in the shadows beyond the lamplight. “Do you ever lie in the dark and wonder what it would be like?”
He was losing ground fast. His mind was so full of her there wasn’t room for anything but need. “You know I do.”
Another step and they were caught in a slash of moonlight as white as her robe, and as seductive. “And when you dream of it, where are we?”
“It doesn’t seem to matter where.” He had to touch her, couldn’t resist, even if it was only to brush his fingertips over her hair. “We’re alone.”
“We’re alone now.” She slid her hands over his shoulders to link them behind his neck. “Kiss me, Max. The way you did the first time, when we were sitting on the grass in the sunlight.”
His fingers were in her hair, taut as wires. “It won’t end there, Lilah. Not this time.”
Her lips curved as they lifted to his. “Just kiss me.”
He fought to gentle his grip, to keep his mouth easy as it cruised over hers. Surely he was strong enough to hold back this clawing need to ravage. He wouldn’t hurt her. He swore it. And clung to the dim hope that he could have this one night with her and emerge unscathed.
So sweet, she thought. So lovely. The tenderness of the kiss was all the more poignant as she could feel the tremble of repressed passion in both of them. Her heart, already brimming with love, overflowed. When their lips parted, there were tears glittering in her eyes.
“I don’t want it to end there.” She touched her lips to his again. “Neither of us do.”
“No.”
“Make love with me, Max,” she murmured. She kept her eyes on his as she stepped back, unbelting her robe. “I need you tonight.” The robe slithered to the floor.
Beneath it her skin was as white and smooth as marble. Her long slender limbs might have been carved and polished by an artist’s hands. She stood, cloaked only in moonlight, and waited.
He’d never seen anything more perfect, more elegant or fragile. Suddenly his hands felt big and clumsy, his fingers rough. His breath tore raggedly through his lips as he touched her. Though his fingers barely floated over her skin, he was terrified he would leave bruises behind. Fascinated, he watched his hand skim over her, tracing the slope of her shoulders, sliding down the graceful arms and back again. Carefully, very carefully, brushing over the water-soft skin of her breasts.
First her legs went weak. No one had ever touched her like this, with such drugging gentleness. It was as though she were the first woman he had ever seen and he was memorizing her face and form through his fingertips. She had come to seduce, yet her arms lay weighted at her sides. And she was seduced. Her head fell back in an involuntary gesture of surrender. He had no way of knowing that this surrender was her first.
That vulnerable column of her throat was impossible to resist. He pressed his mouth against it even as his palm brushed lightly over the point of her breast.
The combination had a bolt of sensation shooting through her. Stunned by it, she jolted and gasped out his name.
He retreated instantly, cursing himself. “I’m sorry.” He was half-blind with needs and shook his head to clear it. “I’ve always been clumsy.”
“Clumsy?” In a haze of longing, she swayed toward him, running her lips over his shoulder, his throat, down his chest. “Can’t you feel what you’re doing to me? Don’t stop.” Her mouth found his and lingered. “I think I’d die if you did.”
The barrage on his system nearly felled him. Her hands streaked over him, impatient and greedy. Her mouth, Lord, her mouth was hot and quick, searing his skin with every breathy kiss. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe. There was nothing to do but feel.
Straining for control, he lifted her face to his, calming her lips, drugging them and her as he centered all of his needs into that one endless kiss. Yes, he could feel what he was doing to her, and it amazed him. On a low, throaty groan, she went limp in a surrender more erotic than any seduction. Her body seemed to melt into his in total pliancy, total trust. When he lifted her into his arms she made a small, lazy sound of pleasure.
Her eyes were nearly closed. He could see the glint of green under the cover of her lashes. As he carried her to the bed he felt as strong as Hercules. Gently, watching her face, he laid her on the covers.
