Brazen Virtue

in itself became an arousal. No one had ever treated her as if she were fragile—perhaps because she wasn’t. But now, with him taking such care, with him showing such tenderness, she felt fragile.
    Her skin seemed softer. Her heart beat faster. Her hands, as she ran them over him, shook slightly. She’d known she’d wanted this, wanted him, but she hadn’t known it would be so important.
    This wasn’t just the next stage, she realized, but something altogether different from anything she’d experienced. For a moment she thought she understood what he’d meant when he’d said he was terrified.
    She lifted her mouth to his again and felt the need tangle with nerves, then nerves twine with an ache. Her fingers were trembling when she reached for the snap of his jeans. Again, his hand covered hers.
    “I want you,” she murmured. “I didn’t know how much.”
    He ran kisses over her face as emotion swelled in him. He never wanted to forget how she looked just now, with her eyes like smoke and her skin flushed with passion. “We have time. We have plenty of time.”
    With his eyes on hers, he unbuttoned her shirt, then spread it open so he could look at her. “You’re so pretty.”
    The ache faded a bit, so she smiled. “So are you.” Reaching up, she slipped his shirt from his shoulders. He was powerfully built, almost ferocious to look at, but she felt nothing like fear this time. She reached up again and brought him down to her.

    Flesh warmed flesh, then heated. Though the gentleness remained in his hands, there was steel beneath it. Time spun out. He touched. She stroked. He tasted. She savored. There were degrees to intimacy. She’d thought she’d known them. Until now, she hadn’t fully comprehended how intense it could be. She shuddered when his beard brushed over her breasts. This was a primitive feeling, like the flash heat of a tree struck by lightning. As she took her hands over his back to test the muscles that bunched and flexed, she felt both the strength and the control.
    His lips coursed down, hot against her dampening skin. Not lightning now, but a low, smoldering fire. She arched against him, trust absolute, desire overpowering. When he took her over the first peak, he groaned with her.
    She struggled to fill her lungs with air. She wanted to say his name, to tell him—anything. But she could only shudder and reach for him.
    Her pulse was galloping and the knot that had lodged in his chest was spreading. She was pulling at the rest of his clothes now, suddenly strong, desperately determined. She rolled on top of him, covering his flesh with frantic kisses, then laughing with delight as his clothes were finally peeled away.
    He had a warrior’s body—and so he was. The strength, the discipline, and the scars were there. So there were true heroes, Grace thought as she touched him. They were flesh and blood and very, very rare.
    He would have waited, or would have tried to. He would have pulled the strings of passion still tauter. But she was sliding down on him, taking him into her, filling herself with him. He could only grasp her hips and let her ride.
    Grace threw her head back and peaked so fast she nearly crumpled forward. Then their hands clasped hard, fingers linking. The need built again, incredibly, until she was driving him as furiously as she drove herself.
    She heard his long, desperate moan. Then her own body arched as pleasure arrowed into it. Her mind emptied as she slid bonelessly down to him.

    H E’D PULLED THE SPREAD over them, but he hadn’t turned off the light. Grace was cuddled against his chest, dozing, he thought. Ed didn’t think he’d ever need to sleep again. He liked the way she tossed one leg over his, the way she’d wrapped herself around him as if she wanted to stay. He was stroking her hair because he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching her.
    “You know what?” Her voice was throaty as she snuggled a little closer.
    “What?”
    “I feel like I’ve just climbed a mountain. Something on the scale of Everest. Then I parachuted down through all that cold, thin air. Nothing has ever felt so wonderful.” She turned her head so that she could smile up at him. “And you were right, once would never be enough.” She laughed and snuggled into his neck. “You smell so good. You know, when I put your shirt on before, I finally hit on it. Ed Jackson, tough cop, former linebacker—”
    “Defensive tackle,” he corrected.
    “Whatever.