Genuine Lies

room, to the base of the stairs.
    That was reality. In the real world being led too often equaled surrender.
    “Where are we going?” Was that her voice, that throaty, breathless murmur?
    “This time, this first time, you need a bed.”
    “But …” She tried to clear her head, but his mouth skimmed back to hers. “It’s the middle of the morning.”
    His laugh was quick and as unsteady as his pulse. He was half wild to get his hands on her, to feel her under him, to feel himself inside her. “God, you’re sweet.” Then his eyes flashed back to hers. “I want more, Julia. You’ve got one chance to tell me what you want.” He tugged off her sweatshirt and let it drop at the top of the stairs. Beneath it she wore nothing but the lingering scent of soap and perfumed oils. “Do you want me to wait until sundown?”
    She let out a little cry, part alarm, part delight as his hand closed over her. “No.”
    He had her back to the wall, letting those rough, clever hands do the seducing. His breath was heaving as if he’d scaled a mountain rather than a staircase. She felt it flutter hot over her throat, her cheek, into her mouth.
    She was small and firm in his hands, and smooth as lake water. He knew he’d go mad if he didn’t taste that soft, trembling flesh. “What do you want, Julia?”
    “This.” Her mouth moved frantically under his. And now it was she pulling him away from the wall and into the bedroom. “You.” When she reached for the buttons of his shirt, her fingers were shaking. She fumbled, swore. God, she needed to touch him. Wherever this terrible hunger had come from, it was burning her up from the inside out. “I can’t—it’s been so long.” Finally she let her clumsy hands drop and closed her eyes on the humiliation.
    “You’re doing fine.” He’d nearly laughed, but he’d seen she’d had no idea what her frantic, inexpert attempts were doing to him. For him. “Relax, Julia,” he murmured as he lay her on the bed. “The best things always come back to you.”
    The best she could manage was a small, panicked smile. His body was like iron over hers. “They say that about riding bikes, too, but I tend to lose my balance and fall off.”
    He traced his tongue along her jaw, stunned by the way her single quick tremor racked his system. “I’ll let you know if you start to wobble.”
    When she reached for him again, he braceleted her wrists in his hand and made love to her fingers. Too fast, he berated himself as he watched her in the light that slanted through the blinds. He’d been rushing her, fueled by his own needs. She needed care, and patience, and whatever tenderness he had to give.
    Something had changed. She wasn’t certain what it was, but the mood had altered. The grinding in her stomach had become a quickening—every bit as exciting, but so much sweeter. His touch was no longer possessive, but experimental, fingers cruising over her. When he kissed her, the frustration was gone, and there was persuasion. Irresistible.
    He could feel her relax, muscle by muscle, until she was like hot wax melting beneath him. He hadn’t known that kind of surrender, that level of trust could make him feel like a hero.
    So he wanted to give her more, show her more. Promise her more.
    Slowly, his eyes on her face, he drew the band from her hair so that it fanned dark gold over the rose-colored spread. As her lips opened, he touched his to them, but softly, waiting for her to deepen that most basic and complex of contacts. When her tongue sought his, he sank in.
    Arousal clouded her mind, racked her breathing. Though her fingers still trembled, she fought his buttons loose, letting out a long sigh of satisfaction as she felt his flesh slide over hers. With her eyes closed she thought she could hear his heartbeat vying with the pace of her own for speed.
    A cloak of sensation covered her, a misty veil that allowed her to do as she wished with her mouth and hands, without hesitation or regret. Feed ravenously. Yes, she would. A soul that had known hunger for so long understood greed as well as abstinence. She wanted the feast.
    Her lips, fully tempted, raced over his face, down his throat, as she filled herself with the rich animal flavor of man. He said something, fast and harsh, and she heard her own laugh, a laugh that ended on a gasp when he pressed desperately against her, center to center.
    When his tongue flicked over the point of her breast, thatsharp pleasure had her