Page 34 of Dante
She swallowed too fast and almost scalded her tongue. "What?"
"You're ill."
"I'm not terminal. It's not like I am dying from a debilitating disease. If you want to get rid of me--" She shifted back when he sat on the edge of the bed. The glint in his eyes warned her he was on the edge.
"Was that what I said?" he demanded. "You were on the floor, goddammit."
"I'm sorry--" She stuttered to a stop at the anger glinting in his golden eyes.
Taking the cup from her, he set it aside carefully. She was holding her breath when he reached out and hauled her against him.
"What--" He simply cut off the rest by fusing his lips to hers. For a few seconds, she went rigid with shock and then the heat, the fire, the flood of emotions kicked in and swamped her. She became weak as a newborn kitten, her bones liquified. His mouth, sweet Jesus! His mouth claimed hers, took in a way that had her blood boiling. Nerves shot through her body like lightening.
Her moans were captured deep inside his throat. He had not planned it and at the point of death, he could not stop. Heat clashed and collided inside him.
Recovering from the initial shock, she parted her lips and gave him access. The taste of her was like dark honey, the scent of her surrounded him, invaded his body and mind and drove him mad. He took and he was rough. It vaguely occurred to him that he was crossing the line, but he did not care. The taste and texture of her lips, her tongue, her mouth, even her saliva was like a drug that weakened him and crushed his very soul. His hands gripped her head to steady her as he ravished her mouth.
Lowering her back on the pillows, he covered her body with his, allowing her to feel his rigid arousal. He swallowed her gasps. Her moans sent him over the edge even more. His hands were everywhere, on her neck, her face, her arms and then back to her throat.
She whimpered when he tore his mouth from hers and savaged her throat. Her nipples scraped against the fabric of her sweater, sending white hot heat shimmering through her body.
Lifting his head, he stared at her, eyes darkened, face harsh with a desire he could no longer control.
"Stop me," he whispered roughly and meant it. "Stop me now. Tell me you don't want this."
Her body was shuddering. In all her life, she had never felt anything so intense, anything so powerful and she was in heat.
"I can't," she whispered back, body quivering. "I can't."
Giving her one last look, he lowered his head and seized her lips. Her arms came around his neck, fingers digging into the softness of his dark hair.
She was drowning and did not want to even come up for air. When he reached under her sweater to feel her skin, her body vibrated. Lifting her slightly, he eased the sweater off and simply stared. His breathing was harsh, his body so churned up, he could barely think straight. The scrap of lace was black, astriking contrast against the coffee and cream complexion. He could clearly see her nipples through the transparent material.
With trembling fingers, he unhooked the front clasp and took it off.
With his eyes on hers, he circled the rigid flesh slowly, watching as her lips parted and her body arched.
"Please," she gasped. Her fingers gripped his wrists, biting into the flesh. He reacted to her obvious passion by bending his head and circling the flesh with his tongue. She tasted tart and sweet and completely addictive. And he just knew that coming this far, having her like this would never be enough. Suckling the nipple inside his mouth, he feasted like a man who had been starving for a very long time and was just now faced with an enticing and sumptuous banquet. He fed mindlessly, switching to the other breast, until she was writhing beneath him.
And he wanted more. If he did not have all of her, he was going to die. Stumbling to his feet, he dragged off his clothing, before getting rid of hers. The lamp cast shadows on her skin, and she wasn't even embarrassed as he spent several minutes taking her in.
She did the same, her fingers trailing over his broad shoulders in wonder, before tangling in the dense hairs covering a very impressive chest. His muscles bunched and flexed as she continued to explore. He had a magnificent body. All muscles and long legs.
Brushing the hair from her forehead, he kissed her tenderly and felt the overwhelming need to protect her, to make her his. The thought filtered through his mind that he had no right doing this, no right to her, that this was all wrong, but he was too far gone. Sliding on top of her, he entered her slowly, easing in an inch at a time until he had filled her.
His body reacted to her tight moistness, and he had to take a moment. Lifting his lips from hers, he took several breaths before he started to move. As soon as he did, she came. The climax was shattering, causing her body to arch, her fingers to dig into his chest, his back, his shoulders. Her scream echoed around the room, jolting him until he could feel his heart hammering, his blood boiling. He took her lips again, seized them, capturing the moans as his own body shuddered and crested. The climax was powerful and unending. He poured himself inside her, his long, lean body convulsing. Even after he was completely empty, he continued kissing her, his body shuddering, his heart shattering.
For the first time in his entire life, he was undone by a woman, his heart spread wide open, a strange vulnerability grabbing him by the throat.
For a long moment, the only sound was their mingled breathing, raw and uneven, threading through the hush that blanketed the room. She lay tangled beneath him, her hands still clutching at his shoulders, as if reluctant to let him slip away either from her arms or from the truth that had just sparked between them.
A tremor ran through him, gentler now, as he pressed his forehead to hers. The fierce urgency that had driven them now softened, replaced by a profound tenderness. He brushed a thumb over her cheek, tracing the sheen of a tear she hadn't even known she'd shed.
And then common sense and reality reared its head. They had both crossed a line and there was no going back from it. He was the first to move, sliding off her and swinging his legs off the bed. Courtney saw him, crushed and shattered from the encounter. He had his back turned to her as he sat on the edge of the bed, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. She had to get out of here. But first she needed a shower.
"Uhm--" She cleared her throat and had him turning to look at her. The expression on his face was not encouraging one bit. "I need a shower."
He nodded and shifted so that she could get up. Dragging the sheet around her, she rose and made her way into the bathroom. She was not going to think about it. She had slept with her boss, she was another walking cliché. It was not enough that she was knocked up and alone, but she had compounded it by having sex with the man who signed her paycheck. She was pregnant, carrying another man's baby inside her and had just had sex with her boss. Her multi-billionaire boss who was involved with an actress.
