Текст книги "Dangerous Pleasure"

Автор книги: Lora Leigh

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

16

The weariness that had dragged at them found Paige sleeping in her lover’s arms, exhaustion dragging her deep into that well of slumber that obliterated the senses and dimmed even instinct.

That instinct was too closely honed to ever sleep within Abram though. At least, not at this moment, not this day. And God only knew if he would have another day to ease himself into such peaceful sleep.

His eyes came slowly open.

He didn’t blink. He didn’t pretend to sleep. He didn’t hide the knowledge that he was acutely aware of the company they had acquired.

Dammit, he knew he should have questioned the single terrorist they had captured last night. He should have beaten the truth out of the murderous bastard.

He had to forcibly restrain the urge to tighten his hold on Paige. To take that one last moment to attempt to pull her beneath his flesh, to protect her forever.

There was no chance, no possibility of doing such a thing though. She was vulnerable, and he had slept too deeply, his instincts not quite honed enough to have felt them slipping into the room. He hadn’t awakened until he had felt his cousin glaring down at him with irritable amusement.

Jafar waved the gun at him, an indication that he should arise from the bed.

Abram allowed himself to caress the thick, heavy strand of hair that flowed over his chest as her head lay on his shoulder. Forcing himself to ease from her, his gaze tracking the three men that stood next to the bed, he ensured that the sheet covered her as he pushed it from his own nudity.

Azir’s gaze narrowed on his son’s nakedness as a grimace of distaste twisted his features. The other man that stood with them was stony-faced, his brown eyes like muddy chips of ice, his scarred, cruel features never shifting in expression.

The lieutenant Abram had glimpsed over the months at the Mustafa fortress had never spoken much, never socialized. He’d always managed to keep himself distant, as many of the terrorists had once done.

Until more of their compatriots had arrived after Ayid and Aman’s deaths. Many of them now moved in groups, socialized with each other, and had begun slowly drawing the people of the Mustafa province into their grip.

Hell, Abram realized, he was one of the men they hadn’t been able to identify at all. He and Tariq hadn’t even been able to collect his fingerprints as they had for most of the suspected terrorists.

The other man’s gaze was locked squarely on his as Abram pulled his jeans from the floor and eased them up his legs, feeling the small Beretta handgun he had kept shoved in the pocket at night.

His fingers itched to push into the pocket and jerk it free. But the military-issue P90s Jafar and his lieutenant carried were still aimed squarely at Paige rather than at Abram.

Abram let his gaze slide to his father, Azir. The old man was staring at Paige with such a gleam of crazed hunger that suddenly, Abram understood exactly how Azir could have realized his son’s attraction to her.

Azir had developed a fixation on Paige that Abram had missed.

How the hell had he managed to miss it?

As he eased from the bed a small, lonely sigh slipped from her. She shifted beneath the thin sheet as though searching for his warmth.

Trying to keep the movement slow, unthreatening, he pulled the comforter bunched at her knees up to her shoulder.

Azir moved faster than Abram could have expected.

Before he could counter the move, Azir, for all his girth and normal slowness, managed to strike with cobra swiftness and jerk the comforter from his grip.

Abram stared back at him through the dim light of the room, hatred and murderous rage rising inside him.

“Before I die…” He kept his voice barely audible, but even he heard the resounding promise in it. “I will kill you with my bare hands. Hear me, old man, because I swear to you before God, you will pay for what you have done in this life long before you meet Allah.”

Azir’s eyes narrowed, but Abram saw the flicker of fear in the depths for the briefest second.

“Let’s move,” Jafar ordered him. “We’re leaving the house, and you will be going with us. Ensure, Abram, that no one stops us. We have proved to you that we can get past Khalid’s defenses, and that we can access your woman. Don’t make the mistake of believing you can escape again without consequences.”

“That is why you shot Khalid rather than me.” He smiled mirthlessly. “How you have changed, Jafar.”

Jafar’s eyes narrowed. “No Abram, I have changed not at all, I promise you this.” Mocking, condescending. Was his cousin actually attempting to convince him that he had never dreamed of the freedoms they had both enjoyed while attending college in the States, or that both of them hadn’t, at one time, enjoyed their membership in the Sinclair Club?

“May I dress?” he asked sarcastically.

“By all means.” Jafar shrugged. “Dress well, cousin. Your return to the fortress will be noticed, and we would prefer it appears voluntary.”

Abram dressed without hurrying, though he didn’t move with deliberate slowness either. But he needed the time, he needed a moment to think.

There was a message in Jafar’s words, he could feel it. He’d once known this cousin as well as he had known Tariq. At least, he had thought he had.

They had attended American college together, they had shared lovers, gotten drunk as young men, and grew into their maturity as friends.

They had both joined the Sinclair Club at the same time, joining Tariq in the conspiracy to lie and deceive to cover the funds used for their membership fees.

Was Jafar still a member?

“Stop dawdling.” The order came from the lieutenant rather than Jafar.

Abram almost froze for a second, his gaze sliding to the other man. Abram buttoned his shirt mechanically, knowledge rippling through his mind. He began to piece together the answers that had eluded him over the years as he attempted to identify the commander of the terrorists moving into the Mustafa province.

When Jafar had disappeared several years before, supposedly moving into the mountains to aid one of his father’s elderly friends, Abram hadn’t suspected anything. He had never considered, not even for a moment, that his cousin had been in Iraq working to attack the king to whom he’d once vowed his loyalty.

Abram had believed Jafar was the commander they had been searching for, but that answer hadn’t felt right. Ayid and Aman had hated Jafar almost as much as they had hated Khalid and Abram.

This was why it hadn’t felt right. Because Jafar wasn’t the commander he had searched for. It was this man. The one that stared at him with steady, dead eyes. No emotion. No sense of anything but the evil that filled him.

He turned back to Jafar, the warning in the other man’s eyes suddenly shooting through him.

The warning was like a shiver of death racing over him.

He knew his cousin.

He did know him.

And he knew how he worked.

How the fuck had he managed to forget over the years?

He’d messed up, Abram admitted. He’d messed up so damned badly when he had immediately assumed Jafar was exactly what he had claimed to be when he returned, after Ayid’s and Aman’s deaths.

He should have known better.

“Let’s go.” Jafar jerked his head toward the door as Abram finished lacing his boots.

“We take the girl.” Azir didn’t move. “She goes with us.”

“No.”

Everyone stared back at Abram as the word came from him, the sound of it sharp, filled with determined fury and murderous intent.

“She goes.” Azir’s smile was cold, calculating. “I will have her as well.”

“The hell you will,” Abram growled.

“We go now.” The other man moved between Azir and the bed, the command in his tone unmistakable now. “The girl is a liability now. We will come back for her if we must.” The last sentence was uttered, intended to be audible only to Azir, but Abram had always had damned sharp ears. The instinct honed over the years as he moved secretively through the fortress castle.

“Did they promise you Paige for your cooperation?” Abram asked him then. “Is that why you accepted the deaths of your sons so easily, Azir? Because you believed you would have Marilyn’s daughter?”

“She was created for me.” Azir breathed out almost reverently. “Born to come to me.” He turned back to Abram. “And you thought you could steal her from me, as they stole her mother from me.”

He was even more crazed than Abram had believed.

“We have to go,” Jafar hissed. “Dawn is too close and there’s no way we’ll get past the security agents if we don’t move.”

“Azir.” The lieutenant’s voice was filled with dangerous warning. “Now.”

“Not without her,” Azir refused, his tone grating.

“You’ll have to kill us both then. Tonight,” Abram warned them all. “If you try to take her, then I won’t go two steps from this house with you. I’d rather see her dead than see her suffer beneath your hands.”

It would be a horrible choice to make. A choice Abram knew he couldn’t make. It wasn’t possible.

“We don’t have time for this.” Jafar’s voice was imperative now, as though he were losing patience as well as courage.

Another piece of the puzzle came together. Jafar never lost patience.

It was all a game.

His gaze sliced to his cousin. Jafar was how aiming his rifle more toward Azir and the lieutenant than at Paige. The lieutenant’s back was to the bed, and Azir had no weapon at all.

“You lie!” Azir turned to Abram furiously. “You would bleed forher. You would die for her. You would never have the strength to steal her life from her.”

“I would kill her before I allowed you to take her,” Abram promised him. “Because her death at your hands would be far worse.”

Azir’s expression twisted furiously. “She would resign herself to her fate.”

“As her mother did?” Abram sneered back, setting his hatred and rage free as he fought to keep his voice lowered. “As my mother did? Did you think I would not remember how you killed my mother before my eyes, you old bastard?” he snarled. “That I wouldn’t always carry the image of your hands around her neck, squeezing the life from her body?”

Azir blinked back at him as he obviously fought to remember the event.

“We go now,” the lieutenant, no, the commander said. “Now, Azir. We can’t take the girl with us.”

Every man on the property had been hired to give his life to keep Paige from being taken. They would never allow anyone, especially Azir, to escape with her.

“Yes, Azir. Go,” Abram hissed back. “Because I will die before she leaves this property. What good will she do you if the king takes the province because I’m too damned dead to give my vow? You won’t have a shack to keep her in, let alone a well-secured fortress.”

Azir’s black eyes glowed in rage. Demented rage.

Abram tensed. If he had once known Jafar, then he knew Azir even better, as well as his insanity. He wasn’t going anywhere without Paige. Which meant he wasn’t going anywhere but to hell. And Abram swore to himself that he would send Azir to hell.

When Azir moved to grip the sheet and jerk it from her body, Abram moved.

He didn’t jump for Azir. He prayed like hell that his cousin would take control of Azir. Abram jumped for the commander even as he realized Paige was awake and moving.

Her screams shattered the night as she began to call for the guards, jumping from the bed, the sheet whipping around her body as she moved with the lithe, quick grace she had always displayed.

And Jafar had control of Azir.

The rifle to his head, his expression cold as Abram took the commander to the floor as he grabbed the gun and flung it across the room.

A fist rammed into his jaw as he moved to jump back to deliver his own punch.

The man had a fist like fucking marble.

Hell, he was an enraged bull.

Lowering his head, the other man rammed into Abram’s midsection, throwing him into the wall. Abram wrapped his arms around the terrorist’s shoulders, lifted his fists, and buried them in the man’s lungs.

It didn’t seem to faze him.

A fist cracked into Abram’s ribs, drawing a grunt of pain. Abram managed to get an arm lowered between their bodies, pulled back, and delivered a hard blow to the diaphragm.

That at least drew a reaction and a lessening of the pressure that kept Abram locked to the wall and his gun hand from reaching for the weapon whose grip was secured just outside the pocket.

The dimness of the room had kept it hidden, but now, he was free.

Abram wrapped his hand around the weapon, jerking it free. In a heartbeat, he had it leveled against the terrorist’s head.

“Lieutenant,” he sneered. “Do you want to meet your virgins today?”

Muddy brown eyes narrowed on him.

“Commander?” Abram questioned mockingly. “Or are terrorists using rank this month?”

“We are soldiers of Allah,” the commander rasped. “What would a demon such as you know of it?”

“That you’re insane,” Abram accused him icily. “And this game is over. Have fun when the FBI interrogation team gets hold of you. I’m certain they’ll enjoy your and Azir’s company for quite a long time before you ever see the inside of a courtroom. If you ever see one.”

They would simply disappear, Abram would see to it.

“Paige, open the door,” Abram ordered as he heard the sound of shouting, muffled by the door, coming up the stairs.

Paige moved quickly, once again dressed in nothing but a sheet.

Damn, she looked good in it too.

He kept his gaze on the terrorist, though, as the other man tensed.

“No!” Azir screamed in rage as Paige raced past him, too far away for him to reach. “Marilyn.”

And all hell broke loose.

Azir jumped for her, and the sound of the weapon Jafar held exploded through the night.

The door crashed open. Security agents rushed into the room and the gun Jafar held was knocked from his grip. His shocked gaze moved to Azir.

Jafar looked as though he himself had been shot.

Agony filled his gaze as Azir stared down at the gaping wound in his chest. He went to his knees then toppled to the floor.

At the same time, the commander knocked the weapon from Abram’s grip, as Abram reacted to defend himself.

He should have saved the effort. As his weapon flew across the room, three agents were on the commander, struggling with him until they had him pinned to the floor.

Abram jumped for Paige, pulling her quickly into his arms and moving her to the other side of the room as the agents restrained and handcuffed the commander.

Jerking him from the floor, his face bloodied now, the once-restrained hatred, contempt, and rage spewing from him, he glared back at Abram.

“It is not over,” he snarled. “It will never be over. You will die, and your whore will die.”

Abram smiled coldly but before he could speak, Jafar stepped forward slowly. “Before your men ever learn what happened to you, I will have control of them. You died in the failed attempt, along with Azir, to carry out your unsanctioned plan to punish Abram for his desertion of Islam, and to steal the woman he had chosen as his wife.”

The commander stared back at him in amazed shock. “You betrayed me, cousin.”

Jafar smiled, icy satisfaction filling his gaze. “As you betrayed Islam yourself, cousin.” His gaze flicked to Abram. “You do not recognize him, do you Abram?”

Abram gave a quick shake of his head.

“Meet once again, our cousin, Mohammid Mustafa, son of Hamid Mustafa, and his killer. He conspired with your father twenty-five years before to kill my father as well as his own, and to steal from the Mustafa province the wealth the king bestowed on it for the insanity they follow.”

Instead, the king had learned of the murders, rather than the accidents they had been made to appear. That was the reason the province had lost its wealth.

“You went to the king,” Abram murmured.

Jafar inclined his head slowly. “And now, I will return as their leader, their commander.” His smile was so viciously mocking Abram felt Paige flinch. “Enjoy your happiness, Abram.” Jafar finally sighed as he turned to he turhis expression gentling. “Have I repaid my debt, little one?”

“With interest, Jafar,” she whispered.

He turned his head, watching as Mohammid was dragged from the room before turning back to them. “I will once again place myself in your debt then,” he sighed. “Watch out for my sister. Do not allow her to ever return to Saudi Arabia, no matter the messages I send.” Then his face creased painfully. “Convince her.” His gaze turned to Abram. “Convince her of my dedication to the plans Ayid and Aman planted. There are those who spy, who are close to her, and I have not yet identified them. Until I do…” His lips tightened.

“Until then, she will believe you are as you seem,” Abram promised. “And I swear to you, Jafar, she will be protected to the best of my ability.”

Jafar nodded sharply. “There were no others with us tonight,” he finally stated coolly. “We came alone, but for the three that distracted your guards. Allow the one you captured to go free, if you don’t mind.” He gave a mirthless grin. “Had you met with him as he requested, you would have known we were here as well.”

“I will know better next time.” Abram nodded as Jafar moved for the door.

As his cousin left the room, Abram turned to his lover, to the woman he knew he would have died for. Easily. Nothing would have convinced him to allow Azir to so much as breathe her air.

“It’s over,” she whispered.

“No, it has only begun.” He sighed regretfully as his arms tightened around her. “But the danger to you is over. The danger to us is gone.” Then he grimaced. “Khalid.”

She bit her lip, then grinned. “He’ll be pissed.”

“He’ll kill me.”

“He’ll let you live, it just might not be pleasant for a while.” She laughed softly.

“And you, my little hellcat, will be worth every bruise.” His lips lowered to hers.

He had to taste her.

He had to hold her, convince himself she lived and she was unharmed.

Convince himself she was his.

Just as she always had been.

Epilogue

Khalid stared at his sister in confusion, certain he must have taken too many pain pills. Though honestly, he couldn’t remember taking a single one despite the doctor’s and Marty’s insistence that he do so.

Something was wrong though, because it wasn’t possible that he had heard her correctly.

“Excuse me, sweets, but I don’t think I heard you right,” he said with an air of amusement.

It was forced joviality. Something in his gut assured him he hadn’t misheard her in the least; she had said exactly what he thought she had, and she had meant every word of it.

Fuck.

This couldn’t be happening. It just simply couldn’t be real.

He was having a nightmare. That was it, he assured himself. It was a nightmare. It could be nothing else.

His sister glanced behind him, her look directed at his fiancée who stood behind him. And that look was telling.

He wanted to rub at his chest, but damn if he wanted to make her feel guilty. She wouldn’t understand it was his worried heart aching, the heart of a brother who had protected, worried, and looked after her. He still remembered her as the tiny, red-faced, squalling infant who had been laid in his arms when he was no more than ten.

That look, exchanged with Marty, was telling, and it assured him this was in no way a nightmare.

“God,” he muttered. “It’s my birthday, give me a break.”

It was his birthday, and it was his brother Abram’s birthday. Abram and Paige had ensured he would never forget this day or its significance.

Paige smiled then.

“You expected it.” Leaning forward, her arms folded atop her knees, the waves of fiery hair cascaded around her face and gave her a look of youth and innocence.

She could have been fifteen again.

“You’re too young.” He sighed. “I see you, Ellie Paige, and I don’t see a woman.” He was aware of the softness of his voice, the somberness of it. He was aware of the all-consuming regret that his little Ellie Paige, a name he hadn’t used in far too many years, had grown up.

Paige Eleanora. Marilyn had given Pavlos the option of naming her, and Pavlos had shared that weighty responsibility with his stepson.

He had imparted something that went far deeper though. An acceptance, a lent, overwhelming verification that Khalid, the child who had heard too much, who had seen too much in international courts concerning the hell his unknown father had put his too-small, too-gentle mother through, was indeed a part of the family, and as loved as that tiny, delicate babe.

And Khalid had chosen Eleanora. Because the name sounded as delicate to him as the babe had seemed.

“What do you see then?” She frowned fiercely. “You’re confusing me, Khalid. As usual.”

He breathed out heavily. “Because I never told you, did I, that to me, you have never grown past that delicate innocence of fifteen.”

“Your birthday,” she said softly, and he saw the memory in the soft smile that curved her lips. “You were twenty-five. You had just gotten out of the hospital.” Her expressive eyes flashed with remembered pain.

It was a pain Abram knew as well.

Khalid refused to look at his brother, too afraid he would see in Abram’s eyes exactly what Khalid feared. That Abram could never let the memory of his first love go enough to give Paige his heart.

“You were there when I awoke,” he said softly. “You were like an angel staring down at me.”

“I told you you couldn’t ever leave me again,” she said softly. “Because if you were gone, there would be no one to protect me from all the big bad wolves that were trying to touch me where they shouldn’t.”

“You terrified me,” he admitted with a smile. “You were a baby, and grown men were trying to touch you. You made me want to live again, Paige. You made me have to live again, so nothing or no one in this world could ever harm you like that. You forced me to live, Paige, when all I wanted to do was die from the guilt I felt.”

He had no choice but to turn his head and look at his brother then. It was a time of their lives that they had shared. Lessa had been the wife they had shared. She had been Abram’s wife, and she had died for their dark hungers.

It wasn’t that sense of agony he saw on Abram’s face though. There was a gentle smile of remembrance, the pain of the knowledge that she had suffered because of them, but, as he stared into his brother’s black eyes, Khalid didn’t see the love, the heartrending agony he had seen so many years before.

“We were young men playing secret agents,” Abram said softly then. “And Lessa was our ally, our cohort, and our coconspirator. She died for us, and I could never forget her sacrifice, or the fact that I would have died for her. But she was a young man’s love. I’m not that young man any longer, brother. I’m an adult, and I know the woman I love.”

Abram looked at Paige then, and Khalid saw it.

His throat tightened. His chest seemed to loosen marginally until the only ache he felt was that of the hole that had been left in his chest by the bullet that had nearly killed him.

Azir would have never given up. Eventually, he would have had both Abram and Khalid killed. And he would have killed Paige, after he had raped her, punished her for the sins he perceived her mother committed, and for the unforgivable sin of looking so much like the one woman who had escaped him.

“Khalid, be happy for me,” Paige whispered with all the love he knew she held in her heart, despite the fact that he had been born of the horror their mother had suffered.

He had never forgiven himself for it.

Pavlos had forgiven him, and had given him the unforgettable gift of bestowing a name on the child created by his love for Marilyn Girard Galbraithe. And Paige had shown her love by demanding he live, and by demanding he never forget that he had to protect her.

“Don’t hurt her.” He cleared his throat as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. “She’s my sister, Abram. You’re my brother, but break her heart, so much as tweak her feelings and cause a tear to fall, and I promise, we will fight.”

At the moment, it would be a fight Abram would win, he thought with a touch of morose mockery. Hell, he was as weak as a kitten.

But as he looked up at his fiancée, he felt his cock begin to harden, felt his blood begin to thunder through his veins and was amazed once again by his attraction and his love for her.

Hell, his dick had been hard within hours of consciousness, once he had begun refusing the pain medication they were trying to pump into him.

He lifted his hand to where hers lay at his shoulder, gripped it gently, and pulled her fingers to his lips.

How could he ever tell her the difference she made in his life?

He might not be able to tell her, but he could show her. Again.

He gave her a wicked smile, reminding her, pressing home the knowledge that it had only been just last night that he had convinced her to sit on his hungry mouth and allow him to bring her pleasure with his lips and tongue.

And he would have her again soon.

“Oh my God. I’m leaving. Khalid, that is so gross.” Paige was laughing though as she rose. She threw a quick, light hug around his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

Ashe moved back, Abram stepped to him, his broad hand clasping his shoulder affectionately. “Thank you, brother,” he said softly, somberly. “For the greatest gift a brother could give another.”

“And that is?” Khalid grunted.

“The gentle innocence, and the safety of the woman who stole my soul.”

Abram’s grip tightened, then he was leaving the bedroom, his hand laying low at Paige’s jean-clad hips as the door closed behind them.

“She’s still a baby,” he whispered on a sigh.

Marty lowered her head, her lips pressing to his lips. “She’s a woman, Khalid.”

“She’s my sister. A baby,” he growled.

“She’s a woman, and one day, she may have a baby of her own.”

He grimaced. “I’m not going there.”

“If they hurry, then their child would be just the right age to play with ours.”

And he froze.

Play with theirs?

He swallowed tightly. “You want a baby?”

He felt hot. Cold. His stomach tightened. A surge of adrenaline raced through his system.

“Too late to want, Khalid,” she whispered. “We’re having a baby.”

He remembered. That virus she’d had, the antibiotics, his impatience one night, and her laughing declaration that he could become a daddy.

A daddy.

He broke out in a sweat of terror.

Or was it pure, incredible happiness?

Gripping her hand he drew her around and to him, watching as she looped her arms around his neck, her smile softer than before, her gaze so loving it warmed the very corners of his soul.

He loved.

And he was loved.

Marty had given him the greatest gift of his life when she had loved him. Could he truly begrudge Abram or Paige that same gift they would give to each other?

As he drew Marty to his heart, he knew it simply wasn’t possible.

Paige gasped as her jeans cleared her legs, and a second later the buttons of her shirt were torn from their moorings.

Abram seemed to be everywhere at once, his hands and fingers, his lips and tongue working a magic against her flesh that she had no hope of resisting.

He’d torn his own clothes off the minute they’d entered the penthouse apartment it seemed he owned in the heart of the city. Unfurnished but for the bed he’d had delivered that morning.

They had already made use of it once that morning, and now, he was pulling her to it again, his cock thick and hard, imperative, as she felt her own arousal burning out of control, raging just beneath her flesh, demanding his touch.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her nails digging in as his tongue slipped past her lips, tangled with hers, and tasted her, as she tasted him.

His hands were never still. Touching her breasts, brushing against her nipples, smoothing to her back then to her buttocks where he gripped the curves lightly, parted them, and reminded her of the exquisite pleasure of having Tariq behind her, invading her, as Abram fucked her pussy with desperate, ecstatic lunges.

Her vagina clenched tighter, a moan whispering from her lips at the remembered rapture of taking her lover, as well as his cousin.

The naughty, dark hunger was becoming as addictive for her as it was for him. It was becoming a hunger that reared its head and left her soaking her panties with her juices as her pussy heated in need.

As it actually burned with desire every damned time he touched her. She couldn’t hold back. Slick, heated, her cunt rippled with the yearning for the erotic touch that only Abram could give her.

“Sweet Paige, what a fool I was,” he whispered as his lips moved down her neck, kissing, touching, loving her as she whimpered with the lust she couldn’t, wouldn’t even attempt to deny.

“Why?” Her neck arched as flares of sensation began to travel from each point that his lips touched, his tongue licked, his strong teeth raked.

With the tips of his fingers he caressed the curve of her breast, refusing to touch her straining nipple as he continued that slow, oh so slow, downward course.

“For ever denying what you give me with your love.” His head lifted, his dark eyes an endless sea of emotion as Paige felt her heart swelling, accepting, and giving in return.

“It wasn’t time,” she whispered, her hand touching his chest, his heart.

She could feel it racing beneath her palm, feel the adrenaline and the hunger that raged in the fiery stiff width of his cock against her thigh.

“I could have made it time.” The regret in his gaze, in the stroke of his fingers against her jaw, in the incredible pleasure of each touch he gave her.

“But would it have been as sweet?” She smiled back at him, knowing in her heart that it was time, and that because they had waited, they would endure. “Would I have been mature enough to understand your love, Abram?” she whispered. “Or your hungers? I had a teenager’s confidence, and how thin it was.”

His head lowered, his forehead pressing against hers.

“I had a young man’s sense of forever,” he said regretfully.

“A young man’s sense of justice and belief in his ideals,” she amended.

His lips touched hers again, brushed, then settled and became harder, dominant, commanding.

She loved him like this. Hungry and imperative, determined to have her as she began to arch against him, feeling the threads of pleasure tightening inside her, around her, rocking through her as he moved between her thighs, pressed his cock against the slick heated moisture spilling from her pussy before pressing inside.