his hips, fearing the emptiness of losing him. But there was no loss. No loss at all.
With the purchase of ground beneath them he drove in deeper…oh, so soul-shakingly deep, the power of him radiating through her, waves and waves of it, building an intensity that rippled through every cell so it felt as though they were coalescing, melting, fusing with the thunder of his need to possess all of her, and she gave herself up to him, surfing the peaks he pushed her to, wallowing voluptuously in the swell of them, urging him on with wild little cries, exulting in the hot panting of his breath on her, the nails digging into her flesh, the pound of his heart, and the sheer incredible glory of this mating.
Even the ending of it felt utterly fulfilling, climactic in every sense, the shudder of his release spilling her into an amazing, floating, supernatural experience where all existence was focused internally and he was there—the warm, vital essence of him—and that part of him would always be part of her from this moment on.
Then his body sank onto hers, covering it in a final claim, imprinting the power, intoxicating her with it, lulling her into a peaceful acceptance of an intimacy which blotted out everything else because this had a life of its own and it was complete unto itself…like a primitive ritual enacted in a different world.
How long she lay in a euphoric daze, Amy had no idea. Somewhere along the line her mate had shifted both of them to lie on their sides, her body scooped against his spoon-fashion, one of his arms around her waist, the other cushioning her head. Gradually her eyes focused on the balcony she was facing and she became conscious of a strange reality.
Her two cane armchairs were sitting out there, along with the coffee table that served her lounge setting. She hadn’t put them on the balcony. The glass doors were open and somehow those pieces of furniture had got out there without her knowledge. The table should be right in the centre of the mat in front of the lounge…except she was lying on the mat instead…and Jake Carter was lying right behind her…both of them very, very naked!
The slowly groping activity in Amy’s mind stopped right there. A shock screen went up, forbidding any closer examination of how and when and why. A soft breeze was wafting in. It was pleasantly cool, certainly not cold enough to raise goose bumps, yet Amy’s skin prickled with a host of them. Jake moved a big muscly leg over her thigh, nuzzled the curve of her shoulder and neck with a soft, seductive mouth, and slid his hand up from her waist to warm her breasts, his palm gently rotating over her highly sensitised skin.
“Getting cold?” he murmured.
“Yes.” It was a bare whisper. Her throat had seized up, along with her shocked heart and frozen mind. She felt as paralysed as a rabbit caught in headlights.
“A hot spa bath should do the trick,” he said, and before Amy could even begin to get herself into a semblance of proper working order, he’d somehow heaved them both off the floor and was carrying her to the bathroom, and she was staring over his shoulder at the mat where it had all happened.
Well, not quite all.
It had begun near the table. His orange T-shirt was hanging off one of the dining chairs. Her silk wraparound lay in a crumpled heap on the floor between the table and the lounge. A pair of white shorts had been pitched right across the room to droop drunkenly over the television set. She couldn’t see what had happened to the sandals he’d been wearing.
Her view was blocked off as Jake moved through the archway and into the bathroom. He sat on the tiled ledge around the Jacuzzi, settled her on his lap and turned on the taps full blast. Amy didn’t know where to look. Luckily he started kissing her again so she just closed her eyes and let him do whatever he liked.
Which he was extremely good at.
She certainly had to grant him that.
Though she was equally certain he had taken advantage of her…her susceptibility…to his…his manpower…which was stirring again and her body was riven by an uncontrollable urge to shift to a more amenable position, like sitting astride those two great thighs instead of across them.
As though Jake instinctively knew this was more appropriate, he rearranged her with such slick speed, it seemed like one lovely fluid movement with him sliding right back into the space that wanted him, filling it with a really delicious fullness.
It felt great. Even better when he started drawing her nipples into his mouth, tugging on the distended nubs, setting up a fantastic arc of sensation that zipped from her breasts to the deep inner sharing, driving her awareness of it to a kind of sensual madness that refused to be set aside.
The taps were turned off, the jets of water switched on and they slipped into the bath, still revelling in the erotic intimacy of being locked together. One part of her mind warned Amy she would have to face what she was doing with Jake Carter, but most of it just didn’t want to think at all. Feeling was much more seductive and satisfying.
“Warm now?” he asked.
“Mmmh…”
He laughed, a low throaty gurgle coated with deep satisfaction. “Can’t hold it in water, sweetheart, but let me tell you I’ve never had it so good.”
She sighed over the inevitability of their connection ending, though she even found pleasure in his shrinking, feeling the relaxation of her inner muscles as the pressure decreased and tantalisingly slipped away. She peered through her lashes at the happy grin on his face and privately admitted she’d never had it so good, either, but she wasn’t sure she should echo his words.
He was still Jake the rake.
Still her boss.
Letting him know he’d won first prize on the sexual front might mess up things even worse than they’d already been messed up. Amy didn’t know how to deal with this situation. Another bridge had been burnt and the future was now a lot murkier than it had been before. She pushed herself down to the other end of the bath and tried to get her mind into gear. Some straight thinking might help.
Jake raised his eyebrows at her in teasing inquiry while his eyes danced with the wicked knowledge that she couldn’t ignore what they’d just shared.
Then she remembered the heart-sickening frequency of his sharing with other women. What if he told all of them he’d never had it so good? A charming ego-stroke to top everything off? And just in case he forgot their names in the heat of the moment…
“Don’t call me sweetheart!”
The words shot out of her mouth with such vehemence, both of them were startled by their passionate protest. Amy was shaken by how violently she recoiled from having joined an easily forgotten queue, and Jake’s good humour instantly lost its sparkle, his eyes narrowing, focusing intensely on her. His sudden stillness suggested he was harnessing all his energy to the task of perceiving the problem.
“I don’t use that endearment loosely, Amy,” he said quietly. “You are sweet to my heart. But if you don’t like it…”
“I have a name. I’m not one of your passing parade, Jake. I’m your P.A.,” she cried. “Just because I’ve committed the ultimate folly of going to bed with my boss, doesn’t turn me into a no-name woman.”
“You? Amy Taylor a no-name woman?” He threw back his head and laughed. “Never in a million years!” A golden star-burst of twinkles lit his eyes. “And you know we didn’t go to bed, Amy. You specifically said you weren’t going to bed with
