Page 39 of Landry
"You had a say in the design?"
"Hmm." He was amused at what she was trying to accomplish. But it wasn't working. In a few minutes, he was going to end the conversation between them.
"The shower is one of the largest I've ever seen outside of a magazine. It's... Oh!" She had to bite down on her lip to stop the scream as his hand parted her thigh and started an intimate stroking of her sex.
"You were saying?" Curving a hand around her neck, he turned her face towards his.
"What?"
He grinned at the dazed expression on her face.
"You were saying something about the shower?"
"I was?" she asked bemusedly. He was doing something wonderfully sinful to the core of her. The man had such clever fingers.
"Hmm. Obviously, it was not important." He brushed his lips against hers, nibbling and savoring, before using his tongue to soothe the sting.
"Obviously," she agreed breathlessly.
"You smell good enough to eat. I think I might just indulge." He drew her bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it. Sparks slammed into her body with the speed of lightning and had her arching against his fingers.
"Landry." His name was desperately torn from her mouth in a helpless cry.
"Come for me." His tone was no longer mild but had thickened with passion. "Now." As soon as he said the word, she erupted, her body heaving and vibrating, sending bubbles splashing over the lip of the tub.
Before she had a chance to recover, he was lifting her and turning her around so she could straddle him.
His groan echoed around the room as she closed around him like a vise. Bending her backwards, he clamped his mouth on her nipple and started suckling hungrily. This time, the climax had her bucking against him, fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving her weak.
He didn't last long. How could he, when he was already on the brink of a shattering release!
***
He was dreading the end of the day and wondering if he could persuade her to spend another night. Or even better, move in with him. He was also avoiding having a discussion that involved an explanation of the past. An explanation he was not at liberty to give her.
He made love to her again, after the shattering experience in the bathtub, and wondered if he would ever get enough of her. He seriously doubted it.
He ordered takeout from a French restaurant a few blocks away and they ate the meal in bed.
Now they were just curled up against each other, watching the rain sliding on the window panes. He had lit a fire, and the flames cast a rosy glow around the room, making her drowsy. She really should go, but felt so contented and so sated, it was difficult to stir herself.
The outfit he had brought for her to put on was still on the sofa at the foot of the bed, untouched, because they had not bothered with getting dressed. What would be the point anyway?
He wanted to talk about the future, one where he would ask her to marry him. But in order to do that, they would have to talk about the past. And he did not want to rush her. He was also not free to ask her to share her life with him.
There were so many things to tie up. The family was still in danger. The man who had engineered the kidnapping scheme was still at large. He could not in all honesty put her in danger.
But oh Christ! He wanted to start their lives together. There was no use her denying that she was in love with him. Last night and today had proven that she felt the same way he did. Or almost. He loved her completely, irrevocably. There was no turning back for him.
He wanted her in his life, wanted to marry her and give her children. He was going to build a home for them. And he wasdesperate to start. It frustrated him that that son of a bitch tied his hands. He knew their security team was doing their best to hunt down the bastard, but the wait was getting to him, especially now.
He wanted it over and done with, so that he could begin his life with her.
He was so deep in thought that it took him a minute to realize that the hand she had thrown over his waist had slipped further down and she was fast asleep.
With a smile touching his lips, he carefully reached for the sheets to cover them. Tipping his chin down, he studied the spectacular face, his heart stirring inside his chest. She had scooped her hair up into a messy bun and there were tendrils floating on her cheek. Her lips were slightly parted, lashes making shadows on her cheeks. Love, intense and powerful, washed through him, leaving him breathless.
"If you think you're going to shake me, think again," he murmured, stroking a hand down her back. "I'm never letting you go again."
