Grand Passion

different than what I expected, in other ways I know you in a way I can't explain. It was you I fantasized about when I wrote The Mirror . I don't understand it. How could I have known about you?”
    “There's no need to understand it.” He brushed his mouth across hers. “You seduced me the first time I saw you. Open for me, Cleo. God knows I need you.”
    She felt him probing gently, dampening himself in the moisture between her legs. She gripped his shoulders very tightly and braced herself. She was not quite certain what to expect, but the anticipation was threatening to overwhelm her.
    Max raised his brows as her nails bit into his skin. “Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere tonight.”
    “I know.” Cleo tried to unlock her fingers. “I'm sorry, I can't help it.”
    His soft laugh held a world of masculine satisfaction. It also held a tenderness that made Cleo feel safer than she had at any point since the death of her parents. She was in good hands, she told herself.
    “It's all right,” Max said. “I'm not complaining. It's just that no one's ever held on to me the way you're holding on to me.”
    “How am I holding you?”
    “As if you'll never let go.” Max took her mouth again. At the same moment he drove into her swiftly, filling her completely with one long, powerful stroke.
    Cleo closed her eyes and gasped in astonishment.
    Max went completely still, his entire body suddenly rigid.
    Cleo cautiously opened her eyes and found him staring down at her with an expression of stunned shock on his face. Neither of them moved.
    Max recovered first. “Don't tell me this was—” He broke off, struggling for words. “Was this your first…?”
    “Yes.” She smiled up at him, aware that her body was rapidly adjusting to the strangeness of having him lodged within her. “Remind me to drop a note to my therapist in the morning. I want to tell her that it was worth waiting for. I think she thought I was just being picky.”
    “Damn.” Max rested his damp forehead on hers. “I didn't realize.”
    “I know.” Cleo tightened her already fierce grip on his shoulders. She was acutely aware of the aching fullness inside her. “Do you think we could get on with it now?”
    “I don't think we could stop it now.”
    “Good.”
    Max started to move within her. He was slow and careful and very, very thorough. He made love to her until his back was slick with sweat and his muscles trembled beneath his skin. Cleo felt her body clench around his with each stroke. She could not seem to get enough of the hot, thick feel of him inside her. She lifted her hips off the bed.
    “My God, Cleo.” He reached down and touched her with slow, knowing fingers.
    “ Max .” Cleo surrendered to the climax with a small, startled shriek.
    “Don't be afraid. It's all right. This is how it's supposed to be.” Max surged into her one last time on a ragged groan that signaled a surrender as great as her own.

    Max was silent for a long time. He lay sprawled on the pillows, his arm around Cleo.
    “Why didn't you say something?” he finally asked.
    “What was there to say?” Cleo snuggled closer. She was feeling incredibly content and a little sleepy. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and glue herself to Max's warm strength. Unfortunately she was going to have to get dressed and traipse back to her tower room in a few minutes.
    “How about, ‘Say, Max, I've never done this before, and I'd appreciate it if you'd take your time and do it right,’” Max muttered.
    Cleo smiled against his chest. “You didn't seem to need instructions or advice. You did it just right. By the book, as a matter of fact.” She paused, remembering his words the night he had put the scarlet ribbon around her and kissed her. “As promised.”
    Max winced. “About that book,” he said ominously. “Do you mind telling me how someone who is, uh…”
    “Handicapped by the lack of personal experience?” Cleo offered helpfully.
    “Let's call it romantically challenged,” Max said diplomatically.
    Cleo raised her head to look down at him. “Romantically challenged?”
    “I was searching for the, uh, politically correct phrase.”
    Cleo started to grin. “Romantically challenged? Romantically challenged ?”
    “If you don't like that phrase, think of another.”
    “Let's see.” Cleo considered carefully. “What about relationship deprived ?”
    “All right.”
    “No, no, wait. I've got a better one.” Cleo sat up, holding the