The Art of Deception

result was the same. “Why don’t we call this my next spontaneous act?” he suggested, and slipped her dress down her shoulders. “I wouldn’t want to bore you with a conventional pursuit.”
    How could she resist him? The hands light on her skin, the mouth that smiled and tempted? She’d never hesitated about taking what she wanted…until now. Perhaps the time had come for the chess game to stop at a stalemate, with neither winning all and neither losing anything.
    Slowly she smiled and let her dress whisper almost soundlessly to the floor.
    He found her a treasure of cool satin and warm flesh. She was as seductive, as alluring, as he’d known she’d be. Once she’d decided to give, there were no restrictions. In a simple gesture she opened her arms to him and they came together.

    Soft sighs, low murmurs, skin against skin. Moonlight and the rose tint from the lamp competed, then merged, as the mattress yielded under their weight. Her mouth was hot and open, her arms were strong. As she moved under him, inviting, taunting, he forgot how small she was.
    Everything. All. Now. Needs drove them both to take without patience, and yet… Somehow, beneath the passion, under the heat, was a tenderness neither had expected from the other.
    He touched. She trembled. She tasted. He throbbed. They wanted until the air seemed to spark with it. With each second both of them found more of what they’d needed, but the findings brought more greed. Take, she seemed to say, then give and give and give.
    She had no time to float, only to throb. For him. From him. Her body craved— yearn was too soft a word. She required him, something unique for her. And he, with a kiss, with a touch of his hand, could raise her up to planes she’d only dreamed existed. Here was the completion, here was the delight, she’d hoped for without truly believing in. This was what she’d wanted so desperately in her life but had never found. Here and now. Him. There was and needed to be nothing else.
    He edged toward madness. She held him, hard and tight, as they swung toward the edge together. Together was all she could think. Together.
    Quiet. It was so quiet there might never have been such a thing as sound. Her hair brushed against his cheek. Her hand, balled into a loose fist, lay over his heart. Adam lay in the silence and hurt as he’d never expected to hurt.
    How had he let it happen? Control? What had made him think he had control when it came to Kirby? Somehow she’d wrapped herself around him, body and mind, while he’d been pretending he’d known exactly what he’d been doing.
    He’d come to do a job, he reminded himself. He still had to do it, no matter what had passed between them. Could he go on with what he’d come to do, and protect her? Was it possible to split himself in two when his road had always been so straight? He wasn’t certain of anything now, but the tug-of-war he’d lose whichever way the game ended. He had to think, create the distance he needed to do so. Better for both of them if he started now.
    But when he shifted away, she held him tighter. Kirby lifted her head so that moonlight caught in her eyes and mesmerized him. “Don’t go,” she murmured. “Stay and sleep with me. I don’t want it to end yet.”
    He couldn’t resist her now. Perhaps he never would. Saying nothing, Adam drew her close again and closed his eyes. For a little while he could pretend tomorrow would take care of itself.
     
    Sunlight woke her, but Kirby tried to ignore it by piling pillows on top of her head. It didn’t work for long. Resigned, she tossed them on the floor and lay quietly, alone.
    She hadn’t heard Adam leave, nor had she expected him to stay until morning. As it was, she was grateful to have woken alone. Now she could think.
    How was it she’d given her complete trust to a man she hardly knew? No answer. Why hadn’t she evaded his questions, skirted her way around certain facts as she was well capable of doing? No answer.
    It wasn’t true. Kirby closed her eyes a moment, knowing she’d been more honest with Adam than she was being with herself. She knew the answer.

    She’d given him more than she’d ever given to any man. It had been more than a physical alliance, more than a few hours of pleasure in the night. The essence of self had been shared with him. There was no taking it back now, even if both of them would have preferred it.
    Unknowingly, he’d taken her innocence. Emotional virginity