Mind Over Matter

their lovemaking, weak.
    Holding her close, he slid with her to the floor.
    Unprepared, she was helpless against a riot of sensation. He took her on a desperate ride, driving her up where the air was thin, plunging her down where it was heavy and dark. She tried to cling to him but lacked the strength.
    She trembled for him. That alone was enough to drive him mad. His name came helplessly through her lips. He wanted to hear it, again and again, over and over. He wanted to know she thought of nothing else. And when he pulled the remaining clothes from both of them, when he entered her with a violence neither of them could fight, he knew he thought of nothing but her.
    She shuddered again and again, but he held himself back from ultimate release. Even as he drove her, his hands continued to roam, bringing unspeakable pleasures to every inch of her body. The carpet was soft at her back, but even when her fingers curled into it she could only feel the hard thrust of her lover. She heard him say her name, once, then twice, until hereyes fluttered open. His body rose above hers, taut with muscle, gleaming from passion. His breath was heaving even as hers was. She heard it, then tasted it when his mouth crushed down to devour. Then she heard nothing but her own sobbing moan as they emptied themselves.
     
    “I like you naked.” When he’d recovered enough, David propped himself on his elbow and took a long, long look. “But I have to admit, I’m fascinated by those little stockings you wear that stop right about here.” To demonstrate, he ran his fingertip along her upper thigh.
    Still dazed, A.J. merely moved against his touch. “They’re very practical.”
    With a muffled laugh, he nuzzled the side of her neck. “Yes, that’s what fascinates me. Your practicality.”
    She opened her eyes but kept them narrowed. “That’s not what I meant.” Because she felt too good to make an issue of it, she curled into him.
    It was one of the things that charmed him most. David wondered if he told her how soft, how warm and open to affection she was after loving, if she would pull back. Instead he held her close, stroking and pleasing them both. When he caught himself half dozing, he pulled her up.
    “Come on, let’s have a shower before dinner.”
    “A shower?” She let her head rest on his shoulder. “Why don’t we just go to bed?”
    “Insatiable,” he decided, and scooped her up.
    “David, you can’t carry me.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because.” She groped. “Because it’s silly.”
    “I always feel silly carrying naked women.” In the bathroom, he stood her on her feet.
    “I suppose you make a habit of it,” she commented dryly, and turned on the taps with a hard twist.
    “I have been trying to cut down.” Smiling, he pulled her into the shower with him so that the water rained over her face.
    “My hair!” She reached up once, ineffectually, to block the flow, then stopped to glare at him.
    “What about it?”
    “Never mind.” Resigned, she picked up the soap and began to rub it lazily over her body as she watched him. “You seem very cheerful tonight. I thought you were annoyed with me this morning.”
    “Did you?” He’d given some thought to strangling her. “Why would I be?” He took the soap from her and began to do the job himself.
    “When we were talking…” The soap was warm and slick, his touch very thorough. “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you came by.”
    That was more than he’d come to expect from her. “Really?”
    She smiled, then wrapped her arms around him and kissed him under the hot, steamy spray. “Yes, really. I like you, David. When you’re not being a producer.”
    That, too, was more than he’d come to expect from her. And less than he was beginning to need. “I like you, Aurora. When you’re not being an agent.”
    When she stepped out of the shower and reached for towels, she heard the bell ring again. “Damn.” She gripped a towel at her breasts.
    “I’ll get it.” David hooked a towel at his hips and strode out before A.J. could protest. She let out a huff of breath and snatched the robe from its hook on the door. If it was someone from the office, she’d have a lovely time explaining why David Brady, producer, was answering her door in a towel. She decided discretion was the better part of valor and stayed where she was.
    Then she remembered the clothes. She closed her eyes on a moan as she imagined the carelessly strewn articles on her living