The Only One

of their clothing the entire time they talked.
    He loomed over her, his broad shoulders blocking the light. "I am going to make love to you. Now. Slowly.
    Thoroughly. I'm going to take my time. If you truly, honestly, do not want me to do what I have just proposed, tell me to leave, and I will."
    His challenging golden gaze locked with hers.
    Great Mother. Taj's throat tightened as sudden awareness flooded her of the fleeting nature of life, of this one night.
    She drew Romjha down to her. "Yes. Make love to me," she whispered, "as if we had forever."
    His expression changed to one of exquisite tenderness. His deep voice was a purr against her ear, and he began to caress her with his hands and mouth. "We will have forever. You don't believe me, but you will see. For now, take my gift to you, my beautiful woman. Take this gift of pleasure. ..."
    The remaining hours until dawn blurred together in a haze of carnal bliss. As he'd promised, Romjha saw to her gratification with a focused, impassioned, almost religious reverence, alternating exquisite strokes with tender but relentless teasing. Taj wasn't inexperienced, but never had she realized there were so many sensations her body could feel.
    He seemed to know just when and how to back off to leave her teetering breathlessly at the edge of climax. When at last he entered her, she couldn't prevent her sudden intake of breath or the moan that followed. But even then, buried deep inside her, swollen with his own arousal, he demonstrated his complete understanding of her body by holding himself entirely still.
    She protested the exquisite torture with a soft cry, her hips writhing. "I won't break," she gasped. "Please."
    Listen to me, she thought. He has me begging.
    But Romjha shook his head, his voice strained by his own need for completion. "Not yet. Squeeze me. Use your inner muscles."
    She attempted what he asked, and his breath hitched.
    "Yes . . . that's it. Hold on now. Hold back." His eyes glinted wickedly. "I will make you glad you did."
    Only when he appeared confident that she'd regained control did he lift her thighs, hooking her legs over his thick shoulders. His penetration was so deep that she cried out from the indescribable pleasure of it. Then, with swaying hips and expert, searching hands, he made slow and delicious love to her.
    He lowered his mouth to her ear. Arousal had thickened his voice, making it deeper, sexier. "Your body I worship," he said on a half groan.
    If that's what he called what he was doing to her, she had no argument. In her entire life, she'd never felt anything as good. Dazed, she clung to him, pushing into his thrusts.
    "Taj," he said tightly. "Inajh d'anah."
    Inajh d'anah. It was ancient Siennan for "Heart of my heart, flesh of my flesh." It was far too optimistic an endearment, considering his impending departure, but how many times had she dreamed he'd say such tender words to her? How many nights had she dreamed he'd someday hold her close and whisper sweetly in her ear? Now those wishes came back to haunt her.
    Before anger interfered, she untangled her legs behind his back, pushed on his shoulders, and rolled him over. Balancing herself with hands flat on his stomach, she pressed her pelvis down, taking him inside her, as deep as he could go. Her inner muscles clamped down around him.
    He made a deep growl in his throat, arching his brawny, scarred body upward, his fingers sinking into the flesh of her thighs, grinding her against him.
    The memory of the loved ones she had lost, the heartaches she'd endured, the vulnerability, the helplessness those memories brought with them; those and her impending loss of Romjha lent a poignant, painful eloquence to their lovemaking. She'd almost reached her peak, both emotional and physical, when a choked sob escaped her.
    Romjha rolled them both over and reared upward to a sitting position. Momentum kept her with him, and him deep inside her. Her thighs trembled, and she convulsed around his deep penetration. Their lips came together in a hot and desperate kiss.
    He groaned into her mouth, and she understood. Melded to his body, squeezing him intimately as he'd taught her, their roles could be reversed. With a heady rush of desire she realized that she could just as easily set the pace of pleasure.
    Now she was the one who gave, and she did so, joyfully.
    The tension in their bodies built, the pleasure climbed, and at last, in one fleeting, blindingly perfect moment, lust and love and