what if Miss Q had manipulated her—and most likely him—into this situation? They were together, the weekend’s training session provided the perfect cover to protect her from the media’s attention. Here they could play in privacy and safety.
There was a bed. And they weren’t expected in the parlor until seven.
All hurt faded beneath the strength of their attraction. Nothing mattered beyond how explosive they were together. Every inch of her skin tingled, made her want to peel away her clothes and melt against him.
Letting her eyes flutter shut, Ellen pressed a kiss to the top of his silken head.
It was all the permission he needed.
Drawing the hem of her blouse up and over, Christopher peeled away her bra before his arms came around her, pulling her close. She melted into the strong circle of his embrace, breasts crushing his chest, bare skin against bare skin.
Then his mouth found hers again, his kiss urgent, as if he had something to prove. To her. Maybe even to himself.
Driving his fingers into her hair, Christopher cupped her head and braced her entire body upright, his free hand sliding down her hip, dragging her skirt up around her waist.
She’d worn only a thong, the temperature making even the thought of panty hose unbearable. But the sultry bayou heat was nothing compared to the fire raging inside her as Christopher sank his free hand between her thighs. He brushed aside the skimpy panties. His fingertips curled into the folds of her skin, separating, testing, finding her moist, ready for him.
With one bold stroke he slipped a finger inside.
Ellen’s world narrowed to that fiery thrust. Her sex greedily tried to hold him steady, but Christopher controlled the moment, pressed his palm against her core of nerve endings, stroked her tenderly, knowingly, just the right pressure to coax her hips into motion.
Running her hands up his back, Ellen pulled him close and deepened their kiss. She rode his hand, each roll of her hips feeding the friction, coiling her tension tight.
Another finger circled lazily, intimately stoking new sensations to life, feeding her pleasure until she was wild with need, convincing her that Christopher did have something to prove. He would prove he could take her apart at the seams, unglue her until she was a mass of sensation.
Her body played right into his hands.
Ellen exploded, her moan swelling softly between them. He broke their kiss, stared down at her with eyes half hooded by pleasure, as though watching her climax was a wish granted. He held her entire body balanced with only a hand in her hair and another wedged between her thighs as he rode out the echoes of her orgasm with smooth knowing strokes and a big smile.
Only when she’d regained her senses enough to focus again did she follow his gaze to a very unique feature of the room that she hadn’t noticed before.
A mirror. The reflection of Christopher standing dark and tall over her, her body arched erotically against his, her skirt wadded up around her waist to expose her parted thighs. Not one reflection, but many, each a little smaller, receding into infinity. She glanced in the opposite direction to see an identical mirror positioned on the other wall.
Ellen had seen vis-à-vis mirrors before, with Christopher in fact, when they’d toured an art exhibit at a New York museum. The interesting effect of multiple reflections had fascinated her at the time, but couldn’t compare to the sight of their bodies twined together, as exotic as a living sculpture.
The reflection of the two of them together, forever.
Before she had a chance to react, Christopher drew his hand away, hiked one of her legs around his waist. She followed their reflection in the mirror with her gaze, the way his muscles shifted powerfully as he positioned himself.
The breath stalled in her throat as she watched him arch his hips purposefully, felt his erection searing, stretching as he pressed in, his throaty growl colliding with her gasp as their bodies joined.
Their gazes met in the mirror, his reflecting a longing that surprised her and her own heavy with desire, drugged by the feel of him inside her, the power he commanded over her.
Without one word spoken between them, Christopher proved their bodies recognized each other no matter how much time and space Ellen had put between them. His muscles flexed as he pulled back and thrust again, a deep beautiful stroke that dragged his name from her lips.
She had no balance save what he allowed her, with his hand cupping her head and her leg wrapped around him, but she could arch her hips to meet his thrusts. She lent her efforts to the cause, because each of his ragged breaths, every drumbeat of his heart meant she savaged his composure as he savaged hers.
With each driving stroke he lifted her, until her sex clenched in huge drawing pulls. His legs began to tremble and then…she was airborne.
In one powerful motion, he lifted her off the floor. He dragged her other leg around his waist, circled the bed and sank to the mattress on top of her, his erection still fast inside, his tongue never slowing a wild exploration of her mouth.
“Oh, Christopher,” she whispered against his lips as his weight pressed her into the mattress. A sound of longing that acknowledged how his body filled hers in all the right places, how his broad shoulders blocked out her view of the world.
She’d forgotten how agile he was despite his size. All those years playing hockey. Speed and quick reflexes while sporting heavy equipment had developed his natural athleticism, a graceful strength that startled her. She wasn’t particularly tall, but she wasn’t short, either, and something about the way he could physically maneuver her lent an edge of excitement to their lovemaking.
When he smiled, a dashing grin that drove pinpoint dimples into his cheeks, emphasized the smooth definition of his freshly shaven jaw, Ellen could only smile back. Nothing mattered except this man. This moment.
And he knew. That flash in his lightning-blue eyes, that devastating grin proved he enjoyed her wildfire responses, that he’d anticipated her reaction to him completely.
Her first orgasm had only been an appetizer, a prelude to the one building. Three months of deprivation welled up inside her, made each thrust more poignant than the last, made her savor each taste of her mouth on his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, his freshly scrubbed skin, luscious on her tongue.
And when he rolled to his side, propped up on an elbow to stare down at her while he lazily continued to thrust, Ellen knew he liked the power he had over her, enjoyed this opportunity to wield it again.
She’d have to take him down a little, shift the balance back in her favor, but right now, she let him grin, too caught up in the feel of him inside her. There was no escaping the sensual indulgence of his hands on her skin, the strength of that smooth erection stretching, filling, driving deep, blinding her with the strength of her need.
Hiking one muscular thigh over hers, he anchored her hips against him, reared back until he almost completely withdrew. Then he plunged in. A thrust that made her gulp air, made her skin tingle. She’d played into his hands…and she didn’t care. She’d been gifted with another chance to experience this man and the magic they made together, no matter how high the price she’d pay later. And she’d definitely pay.
He wasn’t the one.
But
