Trust Me

approval.
    “Better. You’re getting the hang of it. Try to do less splashing. Form is more important than speed,” Stark said.
    “Are you going to use the weight machines after we finish swimming?” Jason panted, hair dripping in his eyes.
    “Yes.”
    “How long have you been working out?” Kyle asked eagerly.
    “Since I was in college.”
    “Yeah? Then how come you don’t look like that guy over there?”
    Stark followed Kyle’s gaze. He was staring through a glass window that divided the pool room from the weight training room. On the other side of the glass a massively bulked-up man with long blond hair strained mightily within the confines of one of the training machines. Steroid city, Stark thought.
    “Because I’d rather have a real neck, and I like to be able to buy shirts that don’t have to have the sleeves ripped out in order to fit,” Stark said.
    “Oh.”
    “If you get too bulked up,” Stark continued, “you can’t move the way you need to move in order to study karate.”
    “Karate?” Kyle’s face lit with excitement. “Are we going to take karate lessons?”
    “Might as well,” Stark said. “We’ve got a whole summer ahead of us.”
    “Oh, boy, karate,” Jason said. A wistful look appeared in his eyes. “I wish Dad could see me.”
    Stark tossed aside his towel and prepared to get into the water “You don’t do stuff like this for other people. You do it for yourself.”
    “Did Dad teach you how to work out and do karate when you were a kid, Sam?” Kyle asked.
    “No,” Stark said. “But I’m going to teach you how to do it.”

    “Oh, my God, oh, my God. Stark.” Desdemona dug her fingers into his thick black hair and lifted herself. This was outrageous. This was wild. Incredible. Astounding. It was going to drive her crazy.
    Stark lay between her thighs, his mouth teasing the most intimate part of her body. The searing, shocking kiss was unlike anything she had ever experienced in her life.
    The tension that had gathered within her released itself in an explosion of sensation. Desdemona rode the glittering whirlwind. The glorious release transfixed her. She shivered, gasped, and cried out softly.
    Stark lifted his head. He watched her intently for a moment and then he moved up the length of her body. His weight crushed her against the kimono bathrobe that she had been wearing when she had answered the door a few minutes earlier.
    The kimono was all that lay between Desdemona and the hardwood floor. They hadn’t made it as far as the couch, let alone the bed on the far side of the loft. Stark’s clothes formed a trail that started at the entrance of the apartment and continued halfway across the room.
    “So good,” he muttered as he drove himself into her still-quivering body. “So damned good.”
    He surged into her slowly, filling her carefully but completely. His mouth closed over hers. Desdemona tasted herself on his lips. She felt the passion in him. It converted the powerful muscles of his back and shoulders into steel beneath her hands.
    He was so big. So heavy. So strong.
    ‘Without any warning, the cascading tremors of her climax started all over again.
    Desdemona screamed in surprise, but the sound was lost in Stark’s mouth. She felt him shudder, heard the groan that emanated from deep within him.
    He went rigid, and then he collapsed slowly on top of her.
    Desdemona lay sprawled in contentment beneath Stark and listened as his breathing returned to normal. She smiled up at the ceiling and toyed with his hair.
    They were both damp. The scent of spent passion was unmistakable. It hovered in the air, creating a sense of stunning intimacy.
    “I think I’m going to need another shower before I go in to the office,” Stark said into the curve of her shoulder.
    “So will I.”
    “Since time is of the essence here,” Stark said deliberately, “what do you say we take one together?”
    “You’re assuming I can move.”
    “Only one of us has to move.” Stark rolled off of her.
    He got to one knee, scooped her up with effortless strength, rose, and padded barefoot toward the bathroom.
    Desdemona rested her head against his sleek shoulder and splayed her fingers across his broad chest. She peered at the clock. “How much more time do we have?”
    “About forty-five minutes. I didn’t realize until I checked my PDA this morning that I’ve got an early meeting today.”
    “We’ll make it a short shower and a very fast