Lynn Raye Harris - Up Close And Personal

Then he surprised her when he rolled to the side and tucked her against him. Confused, she pushed herself up with one hand splayed against his glorious chest. He was so dark in the night, so powerful and protective. She shivered in anticipated delight.

“We aren’t finished yet,” she said.

His laugh was strangled. “Yes, but I’ve realized I have no protection. This is not what I came here for tonight.”

She leaned down and kissed him. “I’m on the pill,” she said against his lips. “I had to take it after … well, after I needed my hormones to stabilize. They were all over the place for a while.”

His fingers came up and stroked along her cheek. It was a sweet gesture, so simple and honest. She loved it.

“You slay me, Veronica,” he said. “And you deserve far better than I can give you. I’m humbled that you trust me, but you’ve just convinced me that I can’t take advantage of your vulnerability.”

She pulled away and sat up. She was completely naked, but she didn’t care. Let him look. If it made him uncomfortable, so much the better. Frustration was a hot stew in her belly. And disbelief. Could he really be serious?

“You’re the most arrogant man I’ve ever met, Raj Vala. And I’ve met some arrogant ones, believe me. What makes you think for one instant that I don’t know what I want? That I can’t make my own decisions? That I’m somehow blinded by your fabulousness and not in control of my own mind?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” she said firmly. “Because you’re so wonderful, of course, and no woman can resist you. Therefore, it’s up to you to be noble and deny my poor, weak female mind what it thinks it wants.”

“You aren’t thinking,” he growled, “or you wouldn’t want this. In the morning, you would regret it.”

“That’s my problem, isn’t it?” she snapped, anger and sexual frustration building to a peak inside her. “You’re here to protect me from an outside threat, not from myself.”

“I want you, make no mistake. And if I were a bastard like Andre Girard—or any of those other men you’ve taken to your bed—I’d seize what you’re offering me and to hell with your peace of mind.”

“Fine,” she said, scrambling from the bed and whirling to face him. She was absolutely on fire with anger. And humiliation. She’d thrown herself at him, and he’d turned her down flat. After making sure she had an orgasm or two—alone. It was ridiculous, but she felt so worthless right now.

“Clearly, you know what’s best for me. Now get out and let me sleep.”

He was so still and quiet that she didn’t think he would respond, but a few seconds later he exploded off the bed, grabbing his torn shirt and coming to loom over her. “You’ll thank me tomorrow,” he snarled.

She started to snap back at him, but something stopped her. Sometimes you had to pull the thorn from the tiger’s paw, right?

She put a palm on his chest, slid it up to his jaw. He shuddered beneath her touch, a great golden cat on the edge of control. Boldly, she reached for him, cupped her other hand around the bulge in his trousers.

“Veronica …”

“I’m a grown woman, Raj. I know what I want.” She took a step closer to him then, her bare breasts coming into contact with his naked chest. “I need this,” she told him. “Yes, you’re the first after my loss, but that’s why it has to be you. I do trust you, and I’m afraid I’ll never find the courage again if you don’t—” She sucked in a breath, her voice on the edge of breaking. It took her a few moments to regain control. “If you don’t make love to me. Please, Raj.”

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. She could see the column of his throat move as he swallowed. “God, you’re killing me,” he groaned.

She pressed her lips to his breastbone, gloried in the silken feel of his skin beneath her mouth. He didn’t stop her. Deliberately, she unsnapped his trousers. Pushed them down his hips until they slid the rest of the way on their own.

Finally, finally, she could cup him in her hand, nothing between them. He was so hard, like marble. So soft, like silk. She stroked him, squeezing softly.

“You win,” he said on a sharp intake of breath. “You win.”

And then he hooked a hand behind her knees and swept her into his arms. Carried her to the bed and lay her across it. Automatically, her legs went around his hips as he followed her down. Her body throbbed for want of him. He cupped a breast in his hand, tweaked her nipple as he kissed her again.

Then she felt him. Slowly, inexorably, he slid into her body. It burned, and she suddenly gasped with the pain of it.

He stopped moving. “Am I hurting you?”

She realized she was gripping both his biceps in her hands, her nails digging into him. Tears pressed at the back of her lids and she swallowed them down.

“It’s been a long time,” she said. “It’s, um, more difficult than I’d thought it would be.”

He swore softly. Started to withdraw.

“No,” she cried out, tightening her legs around him. “I need you, Raj. I need you.”

His breath sucked in, as if he were in pain, too. Which, she thought, he probably was, though it was a far different pain from what she was experiencing.

“We’ll take it slowly,” he said, and her heart swelled with feeling.

He put his hand between them, found her. Sweet, singing need began to hum in her body again as he stroked her. Softly, sweetly, as if he had all the time in the world. As if there was no dawn and no sunset, no appointments, no pressures. As if she was the world and he her servant within it.

It took longer to hit the peak this time, but she did, her body opening to him as he took the opportunity to slide farther inside her.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Kiss me,” she said.

He did, his mouth so warm and giving that she lost herself in the kiss once more. She could feel him moving again, and though her body tightened a bit at the intrusion, the pain was far less than it had been.

She didn’t know how long they lay entangled like that, but finally Veronica tilted her hips up and took him the rest of the way inside. She could feel him throbbing deep in her body, could feel the tight control he wielded over his needs as he held himself so still.

“Poor Raj,” she whispered. “What a project I’ve turned into for you.”

“You aren’t a project,” he said fiercely. Protectively.

She loved the conviction in his tone, loved how honorable he truly was. The feelings swirling in her heart and soul were beginning to confuse her. Frighten her. Deliberately, she shoved them away.

“Make love to me,” she said.

He began to move so slowly once more, until she was a mass of tight nerve endings and shuddering tension. Until she was begging him to take her faster. He took his time obliging her, but when she didn’t shrink from him, when she didn’t cry out or flinch in pain, he turned up the intensity.

Again and again, he took her higher, their bodies straining together, sweating, skin sliding on skin. Exquisite. Torturous.

The pain was still there, but so slight she hardly noticed. The pleasure was far, far stronger.

And then it crested until she cried out, her entire body shuddering beneath him, wanting still more but unable to last a moment longer. His control was so exquisite, so perfect, that she knew when he gave himself permission to follow her into the abyss. He lifted her to him, his body pumping into hers one last time before he was still.

He propped himself up, careful not to crush her. In the darkness, she could still make out his features. Could see the troubled expression he couldn’t mask.

“Thank you,” she said, because it was all she could think to say.