Grand Passion

“I told you I'm reading The Mirror .”
    “Yes.” Her voice was only a whisper.
    “I'm on chapter two.”
    “Are you?” Cleo touched the tip of her tongue to the corner of her mouth. She glanced at the ribbon again.
    “I know that the woman in The Mirror thinks she will recognize her phantom lover when she sees him, even though she has never seen his face clearly in the glass.”
    “Yes, she'll know him.” Cleo's eyes were deep, fathomless pools of uncertainty and yearning behind the lenses of her glasses.
    “What I don't know yet is how she will let him know that she recognizes him,” Max said softly.
    “She won't have to tell him. Not with words, at any rate.”
    “But he'll know that she knows?”
    “Yes,” Cleo breathed.
    The blood roared, wild and hot, through Max's veins. He could not recall feeling so intensely alive in his entire life, not even when he contemplated his magnificent collection of books and art. He was balanced on the dangerous edge between joy and agony.
    Without a word, because there were no words, Max raised the loop of red satin. He slipped it slowly down over Cleo's head.
    She did not move. Fire frozen in ice waiting to be freed .
    Max settled the length of inexpensive scarlet ribbon around Cleo's throat as if it were a necklace composed of priceless rubies. He tugged gently on the ends of the ribbon, drawing her to him. Cleo leaned forward as if caught in a spell.
    Max released the ends of the ribbon and plucked Cleo's glasses from her nose. He set them down on the floor beside his chair. His eyes never left hers.
    Cleo blinked once or twice as if she were inside a cave gazing out into bright sunlight. With a soft, low groan, Max lowered his mouth to hers.
    Cleo shuddered at the first touch of his lips, but she did not pull away. She tasted him as if sampling a new, exotic wine. The nibbling sensation at the edge of his lips nearly sent Max beyond the reach of his self-control.
    He brushed his mouth lightly across hers, teasing forth a tentative response. There was feminine eagerness shimmering just beneath the surface. He could feel it.
    But he could also feel the hesitation in her. She wanted him, he realized, but something was holding her back. It was as if she was not quite certain how far she wanted to go down this particular road.
    He also sensed that there was an awful lot of ice between him and the flame that burned inside Cleo. But the fire was there, waiting to be set free.
    He opened his mouth on hers. Cleo hesitated a moment longer, and then she gave a small, murmuring sigh and put her arms around his neck.
    Max suddenly realized that he had been ravenous for a very long time. Cleo's mouth was sweet and ripe, incredibly fresh. After the first taste, he wanted to devour the fruit. Never had anything tasted so exquisitely good.
    He urged her lips apart. She followed his lead, allowing him into her moist warmth.
    There were two ways to deal with ice, Max reminded himself. One could melt it or one could chop through it with an axe. The latter was far and away the fastest method, and he was in a hurry.
    He started to haul Cleo up off the floor and into his lap.
    She gasped softly under the assault. Max felt the incipient panic in her. So much for the fast approach. He took a deep breath and kept a savage grip on his clamoring need.
    He lifted his mouth from Cleo's reluctantly and looked down into her bemused eyes.
    “I'm sorry,” Cleo whispered.
    He smiled slightly. “I'm the one who probably should be saying that.” Except that the only thing he was sorry about was that she had drawn back before he could finish what he had started.
    She smiled tremulously. “Don't apologize. It's just that I wasn't prepared to have a very private fantasy come to life.”
    “Fantasy?”
    Cleo eyed him warily. “Don't pretend that you haven't read chapter three.”
    “Chapter three?” Max was getting confused.
    “That's the chapter in my book in which the man in the mirror puts a red ribbon around the woman's throat and draws her into the glass. She steps into his world, and he makes love to her there.”
    “Just as I did to you?” Max was pleased with himself.
    “Yes. Just as you did to me. Except that you didn't exactly make love to me, did you?” She touched her full, soft mouth. “You only kissed me.” Cleo scowled briefly. “Are you sure you didn't read chapter three?”
    “Very sure. But I will definitely read it before I go to bed tonight,” Max promised.