The Welcoming

his mouth raced hungrily over her face. With a throaty laugh she tugged at his jeans while they rolled over the bed. If this was a game they were playing, she was determined they would both win.
    A broken moan escaped him as her seeking hands drove him toward delirium. With an oath, he snagged her wrists, yanking them over her head. Breath heaving, he watched her face as he hooked a hand in the top of her shirt and ripped it down the center.
    She had only time for a gasp before his hot, open mouth lowered to her skin to torment and tantalize. Powerless against the onslaught, she arched against him. When her hands were free, she only pressed him closer, crying out as he sucked greedily at her breast.
    There were sensations here, wild and exquisite, that trembled on but never crossed the thin line that separated pleasure from pain. She felt herself dragged under, deep, still deeper, to windmill helplessly down some dark, endless tunnel toward unreasonable pleasures.
    She couldn’t know what she was doing to him. He was skilled enough to be certain that she was trapped by her own senses. Yet her body wrapped around his, her hands sought, her lips hungered.
    In the flickering light her skin was like white satin. Under his hands it flowed like lava, hot and dangerous. Passion heated her light floral scent and turned it into something secret and forbidden.
    Impatient, he yanked her slacks down her hips, frantically tasting each new inch of exposed flesh. This new intimacy had her sobbing out his name, shuddering as climax slammed impossibly into climax.
    She held on to him, her nails digging in, her palms sliding damply over his slick skin. Her mind was empty, wiped clear of all but sensation. His name formed on her lips again and again. She thought he spoke to her, some mad, frenzied words that barely penetrated her clouded brain. Perhaps they were promises, pleas, or prayers. She would have answered all of them if she could.
    Then his mouth was on hers, swallowing her cry of release, smothering her groan of surrender, as he drove himself into her.
    Fast, hot, reckless, they matched rhythms. Far beyond madness, they clung. Driven by love, locked in desire, they raced. Even when they tumbled back to earth, they held each other close.

Chapter 11
    With her eyes half closed, her lips curved, she gave a long, lazy sigh. “That was wonderful.”
    Roman topped off the wine in Charity’s glass. “Are you talking about the meal or the preliminaries?”
    She smiled. “Both.” Before he could set the bottle down, she touched his hand. It was just a skimming of her fingertip over his skin. His pulse doubled. “I think we should make midnight suppers a regular event.”
    It was long past midnight. Even cold fish was delicious with wine and love. He hoped that if he held on hard enough it could always be like this. “The first time you looked at me like that I almost swallowed my tongue.”
    She kept her eyes on his. Even in candlelight they were the color of morning. “Like what?”
    “Like you knew exactly what I was thinking, and was trying not to think. Exactly what I wanted not to think. Exactly what I wanted, and was trying not to want. You scare the hell out of me.”
    Her lazy smile faltered. “I do?”
    “You make too much difference. All the difference.” He took both of her hands, wishing that just this once he had smooth words, a little poetry. “Every time you walk into a room . . .” But he didn’t have smooth words, or poetry. “It makes a difference.” He would have released her hands, but she turned them in his.
    “I’m crazy about you. If I’d gone looking for someone to share my life, and my home, and my dreams, it would have been you.”
    She saw the shadow of concern in his eyes and willed it away. There was no room for worries in their lives tonight. With a quick, wicked smile, she nibbled on his fingers. “You know what I’d like?”
    “More Black Forest cake.”
    “Besides that.” Her eyes laughed at him over their joined hands. “I’d like to spend the night making love with you, talking with you, drinking wine and listening to music. I have a feeling I’d find it much more satisfying than the slumber parties I had as a girl.”
    She could, with a look and a smile, seduce him more utterly than any vision of black lace or white silk. “What would you like to do first?”
    She had to laugh. It delighted her to see him so relaxed and happy. “Actually, there is something I want