he expected her to be sliding out of bed and out the door right now. But when she began to ease away, a strong arm curved around her and pulled her back into his arms.
“Where are you going?”
She turned her head to look at him. He was smiling at her, a lazy, satisfied smile. A smile she had put there, Edie reminded herself.
But even so, for the first time she felt a little awkward. “I should leave,” she said tentatively.
“Why?”
“Because …” But the word trailed off and the reasons didn’t come. There were undoubtedly plenty of them, but none of them seemed as important as staying right here.
“Not good enough.” Nick’s smile became a grin. “Do you want to leave?” he asked.
She considered it again, thoroughly, and came to the same conclusion: she didn’t want to leave at all. She liked being in Nick Savas’s bed, liked letting her eyes drift over his handsome face, memorizing his features, the feelings, this moment. She wanted to bottle it and keep it even as she knew that was impossible.
But staying a little longer, that was possible. Slowly she shook her head.
“Good. We took the edge off,” he said. Then he smiled. “Now we can take our time.”
Which was exactly what he proceeded to do. He settled beside her and moved over her languidly this time, pausing to taste, to tease, to touch wherever it pleased him.
It pleased Edie, too. Kyle had never been the lingering sort. He’d never explored, never particularly been interested in what she wanted. Ben had been. But Ben was little more experienced than she had been. And while they’d learned together, they’d still had much more learning to do when Ben had died.
Since Ben she’d had nothing—felt nothing.
Until tonight.
Tonight she had Nick—and Nick had her. He was experienced. No doubt about that. But he wasn’t self-centered. He wasn’t going through the motions in order to get what he wanted. He was focused. He was involved, as intent on learning her secrets as he was on learning the details of these buildings he took apart and put back together again.
She felt as if he was doing the same to her.
The featherlight touch of his fingers as he explored her made Edie aware of nerve endings she hadn’t even known existed. The graze of his tongue on the inside of her elbow made her shiver. The soft stroke of his thumb swirling around first one nipple and then the other made her breasts peak. The dance of fingers down the middle of her abdomen, then brushing lightly through the curls that hid the place that longed for his touch roused her senses, made her quiver.
She wanted him to hurry, to touch her, to find her and shatter her and make her whole again. At the same time she wanted it to last forever.
What Nick apparently wanted was to drive her insane.
His fingers moved back up her body again. She swallowed her desperation. Then he traced her ribs, swirled circles round her navel, then with his thumbs he caressed the juncture of her thighs. Edie bit her lip as his hands slid around beneath her to cup her buttocks. He lifted her, spread her, stroked her.
Edie nearly whimpered. “Now,” she urged him, reaching out to grasp his hips and draw him to her.
He came to her then, thrust into her with a desperation belied by his earlier slow, leisurely caresses. There was nothing casual or leisurely now. His need, like hers, was naked and urgent. His teeth clenched. The skin drew taut across his cheekbones. His breathing grew quick and hard as did his movement. And Edie moved to meet him, to join him. She dug her nails into his back just as he gave a hoarse cry, and they shattered together again.
This time there was no edge taken off. There were no edges at all—just bone-deep contentment, relaxation, a sense of serenity and well-being as Nick’s weight settled against her. He would have moved off. She held him where he was—wasn’t ready to let go. Not now. Not yet.
Their hearts were still hammering in unison. His sweat-dampened cheek rested against hers. Midnight shadow whiskers abraded her sensitive skin. Instinctively Edie turned her head toward them, pressed her lips to his cheek, breathed in the scent of him.
Slowly he turned his head, too, so that they lay facing each other, sharing the pillow, their noses nearly touching, their eyes open, watching each other silently.
There were no words. At least Edie couldn’t think of any. So she smiled. It said everything she couldn’t find words for.
Nick didn’t smile. He looked like a man who didn’t know what had hit him. That made Edie’s smile widen.
His eyelids flickered shut. He opened them again, seemed to focus on her once more. But within moments his eyes shut again, and this time they stayed shut. His breathing slowed and deepened.
He was asleep.
This time Edie didn’t sleep at all. Her breathing, like Nick’s, slowed and settled into a regular peaceful rhythm once more. But she felt no exhaustion now, no lassitude. She felt centered. Settled. Physically a little sore because she hadn’t done this sort of thing in a while. But on the whole she felt astonishingly good.
Great sex will do that for you, she thought, remembering similar feelings after she’d made love with Ben. But with Ben it hadn’t only been great sex. There had always been something more.
There had been a connection between them, the sense that together they made beautiful music, that together they created something greater than the two of them could on their own.
Could that happen with Nick, too?
The thought came from out of nowhere—or from some wellspring deep within. Edie didn’t know where. She knew only that even thinking such a thing was a mistake.
Nick didn’t want that. He’d made it absolutely, perfectly clear that he wasn’t interested. And she had agreed to that. She’d assured him—and herself—that she wasn’t interested in anything else, either.
She wasn’t. She hoped.
And if she was?
Well, Edie acknowledged, that was her problem.
Now she lay quietly and allowed her gaze to trace Nick’s sleeping features. He looked younger asleep, his hard features gentled. Was it the “great sex” that had softened them? Edie wondered. Or was it the great sex with her?
Had he felt the sense of connection, too?
Or—Edie forced herself to confront the possibility—was she just a lonely widow trying to rationalize a night of very uncharacteristic behavior?
She didn’t have the answer to those questions. All she knew is that she wouldn’t get those answers tonight. Maybe she never would.
But lying here was not helping. It was only making her want things she had no right to, with a man she didn’t really know.
Except a part of her thought she knew Nick Savas very well indeed.
