Yes.
Harper Kendall sighed.
It looked like she was going to say yes to this guy she’d met on a plane not twenty-four hours ago.
She’d splurged on a business-class ticket hoping that a middle-of-the-week flight might actually allow her to travel alone. But along had come this guy in the pod right next to hers, looking sharply at her, and she’d sighed to herself. Not only had she spent all that money to not travel alone but she’d have to fend off some guy.
But it turned out he had perfect manners, had helped her with her luggage both on departure and arrival, and had insisted on giving her a lift into town with his car and driver.
Harper wasn’t born yesterday and the offer of a lift…well. But it turned out that there was a taxi strike, his driver looked legitimate and normal, and Mark Redmond looked legitimate and normal, and she’d accepted.
It had been like having some tall, good-looking butler. He’d taken care of the luggage, asked the name of her hotel and had her taken directly there.
Then at the very last moment, he’d asked her out to dinner. At the Ritz. To her surprise, she’d accepted. And now he was asking her up to his room. And to her surprise, she was thinking of accepting. Actually had accepted.
That was so not her. Harper was amazingly picky, always had been. So picky she hadn’t had a partner in, what? Two years? And she was going to break her dry spell with a man she didn’t know at all.
Well, she knew he had an amazingly boring job. Plumbing supplies importer. He hadn’t even tried to impress her with his job like most men did. Though he was clearly doing well with plumbing supplies if he could afford business class to Paris, a private car meeting him at the airport and a room at the Ritz. Most men making that kind of money would have bragged about it, at least a little. But Mark hadn’t, not at all.
He wasn’t much of a talker, either. Though what he did say was smart.
He gave a gentle smile and rose, lifting her up by the hand. Another couple of points in his favor. He did not give a smug male smile, the smile of the guy who’d scored a hot one and was really pleased with himself. No, he wasn’t giving those vibes off at all. He was calm and pleasant. So much so that Harper was absolutely positive that if she said no at the last minute, he’d be okay with it and not go ballistic.
She wouldn’t do it, she wasn’t a tease. But still, it was nice to know that if she did get cold feet at the last minute, there wouldn’t be a tussle.
Some instinct told her that there would never be a tussle with Mark Redmond, which was a huge plus in his favor.
A year ago, she’d met someone at a fundsraiser for her museum and he’d been superficially charming. They had friends in common and he had a great job in Washington, DC, which he’d repeatedly told her. Over and over, actually. It didn’t take long to realize that he was a real jerk. The unredeemable kind. The kind whose molecules were jerks. He’d cornered her outside, pushed her against the wall and kissed her, hard. Hard enough to hurt.
She’d pushed at his shoulders, run out into the street, hailed a taxi and watched him gesticulate angrily in the middle of the street as the taxi pulled away. His handsome face had become ugly as he’d spewed obscenities she couldn’t hear.
That wouldn’t happen with Mark. Liam had given off bad vibes almost immediately. Mark hadn’t once made her uneasy.
They walked out of the restaurant together. Les Jardins de L’Espadon. One of the most famous restaurants in the world and she’d wanted to eat here since her first trip to Paris when she was eighteen.
The food had been fabulous. But, of course. The Ritz.
The whole experience was exquisite. They were walking on the most magnificent pink and cream carpet she’d ever seen. Heading for the exit, they passed the huge circular console that marked the center of the room. On it was an enormous Chinese vase—Ming, unless she was mistaken—with a floral arrangement as big as Mark, the flowers of the season cascading from it. Calla lilies, tulips, camellias, hyacinths, irises, tightly packed white roses. The smell was heady as they walked past.
He’d taken her hand and was guiding her out, not too fast and not too slow, looking ahead of them but seeming to have 360° awareness of the space around them. There was a knot of people waiting for the second sitting and Harper braced herself, but he guided them through the small crowd like a dream. She wasn’t jostled, she wasn’t even touched.
She’d noticed that before, when they’d stood up on landing after the long flight. Usually she was jostled and bumped around and often some clueless passenger would step on her feet. Instead, Mark had quietly reached up to grab her wheelie and raincoat and somehow formed a barrier around her as they’d shuffled out of business class onto the jetway.
Being with Mark was like being in a bubble of protection.
He guided them across the elaborate lobby and before she knew it they were in the elevator. She caught glimpses of herself in the brass columns framing the wooden panels. She looked pale and worried.
What was she doing?
Without glancing at her, Mark brought the back of her hand to his mouth. His hand was so warm, as was his mouth. It was like he breathed heat into her.
“I said Crêpes Suzette because I like them, but we can have anything you want. The room service menu includes raspberry cheesecake and crème brûlée.” He turned his head and smiled down at her. His face was sharply chiseled with high cheekbones and lean cheeks. His default expression was sober. Almost grim, actually, as if his boring business were a dangerous profession. His rare smiles changed the contours of his face. He didn’t smile that often but when he did, the smile reached his dark eyes. “Your choice. Your choice in everything.”
Standing so close to him, she was overwhelmingly aware of how tall and amazingly well built he was. Certainly for a plumbing supplies importer. She’d have thought that an importer would be the kind of businessman who sat at the computer all day comparing spreadsheets. But Mark had huge shoulders tapering down to a lean waist and carried himself with athletic grace.
He was much larger than she was, but she didn’t feel overwhelmed by him. He was standing close to her but not so close she felt smothered. Their shoulders touched and of course they were holding hands. It felt …good.
She looked up at him. “I love Crêpes Suzette. There was a crêperie on my street when I lived here as a student. The shop had a little stand out on the sidewalk where they’d prepare fresh crêpes for you at a third of the price. I used to love buckwheat crêpes with Nutella.”
“Hmm.” Mark furrowed his brow. “I could try ordering those. I’m sure the chef knows how.”
Harper laughed, relaxing a little. He looked perplexed, as if someone had just commanded him to play Mozart but he didn’t play the piano.
“Don’t worry about it. I love it when they light the Grand Marnier.”
“Me, too.” He smiled at her. “I like it when you laugh. You don’t laugh often.”
There really wasn’t an answer to that. Luckily, the elevator pinged and the doors opened onto a hallway with a light turquoise runner with huge roses on it and consoles with vases of flowers in front of elaborately beveled mirrors. The vaulted ceiling was frescoed with roses. The air was scented with lavender.
It could have passed for any ancient castle in any fairy tale. She’d seen the first Beauty and the Beast a thousand times. She was surprised there weren’t human hands holding light sconces along the walls.
Mark turned right, still holding her hand. Harper was looking around with interest when they stopped in front of a door. He didn’t seem to have a card key in his hand but suddenly he was holding the door open for her.
She walked in and nearly gasped. The suite was gorgeous. They were in a small sitting room with a light green brocade couch and two matching armchairs. It smelled of a rose-based potpourri. Mark switched on two table lamps with crystal bases and cream silk shades. He took off his jacket and held his hand out for hers, tossing both of them onto an armchair.
She heard him speaking softly into the phone while she walked around, touching the armchairs, the pearl-inlaid picture frames, an ormolu clock on a side table.
The door to the bedroom was closed. She still hadn’t completely decided about that part of the evening. But right now, she was enjoying being in this beautiful room with this man.
“It’s a real suite,” she said. “At the Ritz. I imagined my being here one day but only when I’m 50 and have made my money. The plumbing supply importing business must be going great guns.”
“I have a very generous boss. Me. And he gives me a very generous expense account,” he replied. He sat on the couch, making a huge dent in the cushions. He patted the area next to him. Okay. She didn’t have any problem sitting next to him. It felt good, feeling his body heat, brushing his powerful shoulder with her own.
Harper shook her head. “I like your boss. He pays for a car to pick you up at the airport and for a suite at the Ritz. My boss is so cheap he won’t pay for a taxi from the airport even when I arrive late in an unknown city, let alone a car and a driver.”
Mark frowned. “It’s important to arrive rested when you’re going on a business trip. Your boss should understand that. Not to mention safety issues.”
Harper gave a light laugh at the thought of Ivan the Terrible caring one way or another what shape she’d be in after a business trip. “My boss is a sociopath and he’s incapable of understanding anything of the sort. Though he is very generous with our budget when it comes to himself. No, this trip is my own research trip, paid for with my own money. Which is why I sprang for business class and a nice hotel. Nothing like this, though.”
She looked around the room admiringly. Everything was just perfect, she thought. The many floral arrangements were fresh, the marble and wood gleamed, absolutely everything was pleasing.
Including the man sitting beside her.
For the first time, she admitted to herself how attracted she was to him. It had sneaked up on her stealthily. He was so not her type, though to be honest, her type had proved disappointing, over and over again.
He was smart but not an intellectual, well dressed without being trendy, knowledgeable about how the world worked without being a bore.
Since he wasn’t her type at all, the attraction had been slow to burn, without her even noticing it.
Maybe she was attracted because he was just so male, without being a creep in any way. He just gave off these amazing male vibes in the old-fashioned sense of male. He was an adult; most of the men she dated felt like kids in comparison, fretting about status and money and needing for her to be impressed.
Mark did none of those things. What he did do was throw a veil of protection around her, which was crazy. Harper didn’t need protecting, she could make her own way in the world just fine. Nonetheless, over the course of that long flight, he’d managed to make pleasant, non-boring conversation while reassuring her with his body language alone. She was a nervous flier and when they’d hit a bad patch of turbulence midway across the Atlantic, she’d clutched his arm instinctively. He’d put his hand over hers and had given her an amusing rundown of the movie they’d both been watching.
He’d taken her mind off the turbulence, he’d made her laugh and she’d completely let go of her fear.
Mark Redmond was big and tall and strong, and though she thought herself completely unsusceptible to those things, her hormones had sandbagged her. Who knew she had hormones that could take over and drive?
“Your boss is a moron,” he said, completely seriously.
It startled a laugh out of her because it was so true.
“There,” Mark said, running the back of a long finger down her face. “There’s that laugh again. I like it when you laugh.”
She heard the words, but it was as if they were coming from very far away. They jumbled in her head, meaningless. What did penetrate was the heat his soft touch sparked under her skin, as if his fingers shot electricity. Close up, his size was almost overwhelming. He’d taken his jacket off and his shoulders and biceps strained the elegant white shirt. His thighs, too, were huge.
A shiver of sexual excitement ran through her body, so alien she almost didn’t recognize it.
But he did.
Somehow, he latched on to what was happening with her faster than she did. Every part of her was open to him, something unfurling inside her like another person waking up, looking around and liking what she saw.
Her eyes were open wide, as were her nostrils and mouth, as if she had to take in more oxygen to deal with her body’s excitement. Her chest expanded, breasts swelling against her bra. She didn’t dare look down at her chest because she could feel her nipples growing harder, something completely out of her control.
Please don’t look down, she silently begged Mark. And—thank you, God!—he didn’t. His eyes were fixed on hers.
And below the waist… Mmm. Her sex somehow opened and softened, as if she were being touched by him.
The air between them almost shimmered with sexual tension. She’d never felt anything like this before.
Without thinking about it, she moved forward because there were magnetic lines between them and that’s how it had to be. She had to be in his arms, right now.
Though his expression was always bland, gentle, now he looked hard. The muscles of his face were pulled tight, nostrils white, brackets around his mouth. He looked under strain, but it wasn’t that. This was male arousal, and though she’d never seen arousal quite as intense as this before, she instinctively recognized it. It was something beyond experience and beyond words—an instinct as old as mankind.
They moved toward each other, her mouth slowly opening, eyes slowly closing…
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Her eyes opened, she took in a deep breath and pulled away. Like a swimmer about ready to take the high dive then stepping back at the last minute.
It was as if something broke.
Mark sat up straight and that hard look disappeared. His mouth turned up at one corner.
“The crêpes,” he said, and sighed.
“What?”
Harper couldn’t follow what he was saying.
“The Crêpes Suzette.” Mark dropped a quick kiss on her mouth, their first. So fast she didn’t have time to react. He walked quickly to the door and opened it. A tuxedoed waiter stood in the hallway pushing a restaurant cart.
Oh. Of course! How stupid of her. They’d ordered Crêpes Suzette and she’d completely forgotten about it. Her hormones had wiped about 50 IQ points from her mind.
This was not good. Whatever was going to happen between her and Mark, she needed to keep her wits about her. It was never good to let one’s guard down. She believed that fervently.
And here he’d reduced her brain to cream of wheat with no effort at all.
The waiter rolled in the cart, stopped it and removed a huge silver cover. Underneath were two rose-patterned dessert plates, a long-handled copper saucepan, a bottle of Grand Marnier and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. He pulled a table away from the wall, set two chairs, and placed the dessert plates with orange-infused, folded crêpes and two crystal flutes on the table, and the ice bucket on a stand.
The waiter tipped some Grand Marnier into the saucepan, lit it, and poured the flaming alcohol over the crêpes. Mark accompanied him to the door, discreetly handing him a tip. By the time he returned, the flames had gone out and the crêpes looked luscious and rich, glistening with orange marmalade and the liqueur.
She smiled up at him. “You missed the best part.”
He held out her chair. “No, the best part is the eating.”
“So true.”
He popped the cork of the champagne and filled their glasses. He lifted his and gently pinged her glass. The lovely tone of fine crystal filled the air. “Here’s to you.”
Harper sipped, on more even ground now. For a second, her hormones had got the better of her. This was familiar, though maybe unusually pleasing in all ways. Beautiful hotel room, excellent champagne, superb crêpes.
And the man himself…wow. He just seemed to get better and better. Not at all the boring businessman seatmate she thought had been her fate when she’d settled in the plane. She’d been prepared to be bored and maybe even annoyed all the way across the Atlantic.
Instead…here she was, with a man who hadn’t said anything foolish or self-serving yet and who exuded a quiet but potent male appeal. And was really built.
Was that it? Was she that shallow? Was she so intensely attracted to a man because of his muscles?
She tipped her glass to his again, for the pleasure of hearing that pure silvery note of crystal ring out. “To you, too.”
He smiled at her over his glass, put it down and cut his first slice of the Crêpes Suzette. “Mm.” He closed his eyes, opened them again and looked straight into hers. “Delicious.”
Her heart gave a huge thump in her chest.
Oh, dear.
“Try it.” Mark cut a bite of his own crêpe and held it out to her. “It’s fabulous.”
She closed her eyes as she chewed. Damn, it was fabulous. She opened them to find him staring at her, heat in his dark eyes. They glowed as if lit from inside his head. He wanted her, it was plain to see.
“God,” he said. “You’re sexy when you eat. But then you’re sexy when you’re not eating, too.”
She chewed and swallowed until her plate was empty, then put her fork down on her plate. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”
His hand covered hers again, huge, hot and calloused, unusually so for a businessman. “You’re right. It was a dumb thing to say. My only excuse is that it’s true. I want you.”
There, it was out in the open.
Harper had a perverse mechanism in her. She often took a step back when the man took a step forward.
That mechanism was broken.
Everything felt wound up inside her. She couldn’t go forward and she couldn’t go backward. She didn’t know what to do.
But Mark did. He curled his hand around hers, leaned forward and kissed her.
And that awful grinding feeling of everything inside her coming to a jagged halt ended. Inside, she melted, everything becoming honey smooth.
He only touched her with his mouth, but it was enough to infuse warmth in her down to her toes. He lifted his mouth, kissed her again from a different, deeper angle. His hands rose to slide through her hair, cup her head. Oh, God. The kiss became deeper and deeper, hot and so enticing her heart started pounding in her chest.
They rose together, as one, took a step forward, as one. Mark was kissing her so deeply she couldn’t breathe and had to breathe through him. She needed this kiss more than she needed oxygen. Who needed oxygen? Oxygen was everywhere. This kiss…this kiss was really rare.
It was as if she’d never been kissed before, the feeling almost electric when her tongue met his. She reached up, trying to embrace those broad shoulders, loving the feel of steely muscle against her arms. Mark kept one hand cupping the back of her head, the other on her back, pressing her against him.
He was all unyielding muscle, more like steel or wood than human flesh. Something else was like steel or wood, too. His erect penis was huge and hard against her belly. She gasped when she felt it and his kiss deepened, lips and teeth nibbling against her mouth, tongue stroking hers deep inside.
Harper curled her fingers into his shoulders, but there was no purchase. Beneath the fine cotton of his shirt was muscle so hard she couldn’t dent it with her fingertips to gain purchase. But something in her wanted him closer to her, wanted to explore this new world of heat flaring inside her.
She stepped even closer to him and rubbed her belly against his penis.
Oh God, it swelled even bigger, like a powerful animal flexing against her belly. A vision of that huge penis entering her flared in her mind and her vagina clenched, trying to hold him inside her, even though they weren’t having sex.
Yet.
So that solved that issue. Would she or wouldn’t she? Definitely yes, she would. This amazing excitement, this electric heat inside her was new territory that simply had to be discovered. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before in her twenty-eight years. For all she knew, another twenty-eight years might go by before it happened again.
He kissed her neck while undressing her, distracting her so much she was almost naked before she realized what he was doing.
It was probably a good idea he was undressing her because her hands felt magnetically attached to his shoulders. She let go of him only to lift her arms so he could slip off her silk top.
“Beautiful outfit,” he murmured against the skin of her neck. “But you look even better out of it.” He stepped back slightly and she missed the warmth of his body so close to hers. That span of cold air seemed absolutely intolerable.
It seemed intolerable for him, too, because he undressed with the speed of light, tossing his clothes over the back of the sofa. His pants slid off to rustle to the carpet, lying there like the shed skin of a mysterious jungle animal, the fine dark wool crumpled on the floor.
She glanced down, then back up at him. “Your pants are going to crease.”
They stared at each other.
What had just come out of her mouth? She drew in a deep breath, absolutely mortified.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “I can’t believe I said that.”
Here she was, minutes away from what she was sure would be the best sex of her life, and she was talking about possible creases in his pants? How uncool was that? What was wrong with her?
There was a dent in his cheek that might be a smile. He ran the back of his forefinger down the side of her face. “You’re nervous.”
Ordinarily Harper would never admit that. Why should she be nervous? It was just sex. But…she was.
“No,” she said. “Maybe.”
Mark bent his head to her. “I don’t want you nervous.” He kissed the side of her mouth, moved his lips over her jawline, down the side of her neck. He licked a spot then nipped it. Not a bite, not quite. He scraped his teeth down the tendon in her neck and she broke out in goose bumps. “I want you relaxed. Pleasured.”
His voice had turned so deep it reverberated in her diaphragm. Oh, God. She’d turned into a human tuning fork, especially attuned to him.
“We’re getting there,” she gasped.
Mark didn’t answer. His mouth moved to her ear, licking inside it, and a deep shudder ran through her body and goose bumps broke out over her forearms. She’d never really realized that the ear was such an erogenous zone.
Everything was an erogenous zone. Her ear, her neck, under her chin, wherever his mouth wandered. When it wandered lower, licking and pulling at her nipple, the pleasure was almost too much. She was shuddering, rubbing herself against his groin, her vagina clenching even though it was still empty.
Heat filled her, from her lungs out. A blistering heat as if the sun had suddenly come up inside her, heat and energy crackling through her, down to her fingertips and toes.
Mark kissed his way up her chest to her mouth and then they were kissing wildly, trying to get as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. He was holding her tightly, almost hurting her but not quite, and she scrambled to press herself against him, against that long, strong, hot body.
She had contact, but somehow it wasn’t enough. She moved in his arms, rubbing against him like a cat. She felt like a cat. If she could, she’d purr and she definitely wanted to lick him, just lap him up. Everything felt so damned good. Every part of her, from her hair to her toes.
Mark lifted his mouth just a fraction of an inch from hers, as if too much distance would be unbearable. She knew exactly how he felt.
“Bed?” he gasped.
“God, yes,” she answered. An image, a heart-stopping image, filled her head. She was spread-eagled on a bed and Mark was on top of her, slowly moving in and out of her. She saw it as if she were looking down from the ceiling, watching his buttocks move as he made love to her. Their hands were intertwined and his strong thighs held hers apart.
She shivered and her vagina clenched again. He wasn’t in her, not yet, but she could feel his hard, hot penis against her belly and it didn’t take much to imagine them already having sex.
Mark tilted slightly, then the world tilted and she realized he was carrying her toward the bedroom. It was amazing. He showed no stress, not even his breathing changed. They were still kissing, her arms tight around his strong neck. Incredibly, he didn’t seem to have to look at where they were going, even though the living room area was full of furniture. He didn’t trip and fall as she surely would have.
It was like a scene in a movie—a sexy movie. Both of them naked, kissing, and she was being carried to bed. They’d have to pixelate his erect penis, though.
They were in his bedroom. He hadn’t turned on the lights, there was just faint light from the living room spilling into the bedroom. It didn’t reach the bed, which was mysterious and shadowy.
What kind of lover was Mark going to be? Slow and languid, enthusiastic and rough? She didn’t like rough sex but something told her she might like Mark’s rough sex.
He set her beside the bed for a moment and held her by the waist as he pulled down the flowered duvet. He was a broad shadow in the darkness of the big room, discernable more by the heat he was giving off than by sight.
Throwing back the duvet gave off a cloud of lavender scent, offset by his smell, pleasingly male. She’d barely had time to breathe in the smells when he picked her up again, effortlessly, and placed her in the center of the bed. A moment later, his heavy weight settled on her.
His hands cupped her head and his hard thighs opened hers. She was completely at his mercy but she didn’t feel constrained in any way. Though he surrounded her, was weighing her down, was holding her legs open with his, she knew he wasn’t overpowering her.
Mark dropped his head until his forehead touched hers. “Are you okay?” he asked. It was dark but she could see a furrow between his black eyebrows.
Was she okay?
“Any better and I’d be dead,” she gasped. He barked out a laugh, as if against his will, and she was charmed by the sound.
He kissed her, lifted his head. “You’re so perfect,” he said, completely seriously.
Whoa. Not all of her lovers thought so. As a matter of fact, a lot of her lovers had been disappointed. Too cold, they said. Too unresponsive. She didn’t feel cold and unresponsive now, though.
“Wait until we’re finished and then we’ll see.” Something in her voice, an unintended bitterness, made him widen his eyes in surprise.
“Some guy thought you weren’t perfect?” Mark’s voice held astonishment, as if the thought were completely alien to him.
Now was not the time to have the ghosts of other men in the bed with them. Not when she had questions of her own. Harper made a noncommittal sound as she ran her hands over his broad, strong back. His broad, strong, scarred back. She could feel small scars, big scars with keloid scar tissue and, on his upper back, a round, puckered scar that was echoed on his chest.
“What are these?” she asked.
“You mean you don’t think I’m perfect?”
She gave a half-hearted slap to his shoulder. “You know what I mean. What are all these scars? Have you been to war?”
“Not to war,” he said. “To dojos.”
“Dojos?”
Mark nodded. “A dojo is a martial arts gym that—”
“I know what a dojo is. A friend of mine goes to a dojo for tai chi but she isn’t covered in scars.”
Mark kissed her neck, exactly that point that made her mindless. She tipped her head to give him better access and closed her eyes. Mark stretched out even more on top of her, so that every inch of her front met every inch of his front, his huge, erect penis like a hot steel tube along her belly.
He bit her, very lightly, right…there, and she jolted with pleasure, breaking out in goose bumps.
“You like that,” he murmured. His deep voice held pleasure not smugness. He enjoyed pleasuring her.
“Mmmm.” He bit her very lightly again then licked the spot. Her hips rose, rubbing against his, his penis so incredibly hot. An involuntary groan of pleasure escaped him.
“I think I seem to remember you like this, too.” And he licked her nipple.
Harper gave a huge, whole-body shudder.
But they’d been talking about something…
“What are those scars about?” she gasped, just before he suckled her breast. Like a child would, only this wasn’t a child. She looked down at that dark head, strong hand tenderly cupping her breast, his shoulders so broad they overwhelmed her, cutting off her view of everything but him.
“Mark?”
“Yeah?” He lifted his head and looked at her breast, the nipple deep pink and wet. He blew on the nipple and she shook.
They were minutes away from full-blown sex but before he entered her body, she wanted answers.
“Scars,” she gasped.
He answered her without lifting his gaze from her breasts. “I’ve been going to dojos since I was a boy. They weren’t fun places serving expensive water with lemon slices where you went to keep fit. They were dojos where you trained seriously in martial arts and where people got hurt. For example, that round scar you felt?”
He lifted his head and pinned her with his dark gaze. She nodded.
“That was a bo staff — a training stick. Went right through me. The scars just show that I took my martial arts seriously.”
Did he ever. The scars, those muscles—the man was seriously strong and built. But he didn’t look like a gym rat; he looked like a man who used his body well.
He smiled down at her, looking dangerously hot. Heavy-lidded dark eyes, skin tight, mouth slightly swollen. Insanely attractive, not a bland businessman at all. “We done talking?” he asked, and she nodded.
Yeah. She was done talking. Her body was on fire for him and she needed him inside her. Right. Now.
Harper arched against him, rubbing against his belly, the tip of his penis slightly wet, nature’s way of easing men inside women.
He didn’t need it, though. She could feel herself, soft and wet, very ready for him.
“Now, Mark,” she whispered.
“God, yeah.”
Mark reached out a long arm to the gray travel kit on the bedside console and took out a foil package. In a moment, he was ready, shifting himself so that they were nose to nose, his hips directly above hers, ready to enter her.
She could feel him, hot and stiff, at her entrance. He placed both hands on the bed on either side of her head and lifted himself, big biceps flexing. He was poised; hard, muscled torso hovering above her. He glanced down their bodies and she followed his gaze.
It was the most erotic sight she’d ever seen. She was fully open to him, legs spread, his penis just at her entrance. She was much paler than him, their two skin tones making such a sexy contrast. She looked almost vulnerable against the hard planes of his heavily-muscled body but she didn’t feel vulnerable. He could crush her in a second. She was beneath him, open to him but not vulnerable to him. There was a strong current of energy between them, almost visible shifts of power and a lot of the power was hers.
She felt strong and vital and about ready to die if he didn’t move.
Harper clasped his buttocks and pressed down and he entered her. Slowly. It cost him a great deal to move so slowly. His jaws were clenched, eyes narrowed, biceps bulging. A bead of sweat ran down his face, off his chin, onto her breast.
Harper caught it with a finger, putting the finger in her mouth. His sweat tasted salty, sexy.
Mark gave out a huff of breath, as if he were lifting weights, but he didn’t slam into her. He entered by slow degrees and she was glad he did. He was huge. Moving so slowly, there wasn’t any pain but at times a little discomfort. She opened her legs more as he slowly entered her.
“God!” Another drop of sweat fell on her. “You’re so tight.”
Harper shrugged, curling her fingers around his steely shoulders. “It’s been a while.”
Mark closed his eyes as if in pain and lowered himself slowly until his entire weight was on her. It felt good, like he was making love to her whole body. He cupped her head in his big hands and entered her, moving faster now. It should have hurt but it didn’t because she was so ready for him. She was entirely open to him. Sex, arms, legs, mouth, heart…
Then Mark was inside her, completely in. He lifted his head, taking her lower lip in his mouth, biting it lightly. “Have to move now,” he said, deep voice low and hoarse.
As an answer. Harper opened even further to him, lifting her hips until he was embedded in her to the root. She felt entirely taken by him, her body completely his.
Mark moved his hands down to clasp her hips and started moving, gently at first, then harder. The beautiful inlaid headboard began beating a tattoo against the wall as he rocked harder and harder inside her. The friction was incredible, she was burning up, an enormous ball of heat building inside her until, with a cry she fell into the abyss, heart pounding, legs and arms holding him as if she would never let go.
He followed immediately with a shout, swelling inside her, shaking then exploding.
They clutched each other tightly and then, with a huge sigh, Mark relaxed, placing his head on the pillow next to hers. She turned her head and their noses touched. She smiled at him and he smiled back, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.
“Wow,” he said. “Just…wow.”