Covet

And there was another surprise for her: For once it didn't hurt because her body actually wanted this.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a guttural voice.

“More than okay.”

Marie-Terese wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close as they began to move together. Her last sight before she squeezed her lids shut was of them in the mirror, their bodies wrapped around each other, her legs split wide, his hips doing the driving. As she met her own eyes, her reflection was a shock. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair tangled around his heavy arm and her lip? parted. She looked very much like a woman with a good partner.

Which made sense. This was sex the good old-fashioned way—between two people who wanted to be together for no other reason than that it was the right thing at the right time for both of them.

When what the mirror was showing grew wavy from tears that sprang to her eyes, she closed the sight of them off and turned her face into his shoulder.

Somehow, he managed to hug her and still keep up the rhythm.

As Marie-Terese pitched over the edge of pleasure and went into the kind of free fall she had only a vague memory of, she held on to the man responsible for the way she felt and let herself go. Her climax milked another one out of his sex and she felt utter satisfaction as he shuddered and kicked—

Except then everything went wrong. For a split second, she thought of what she had been doing for money, and that was all it took to ruin it: A cold gust blew into her chest and spread out from there until all her veins were frozen and her muscles drew tight against bones of ice.

Vin stilled as if he had sensed the change in her and he lifted his head from her hair. “Talk to me.”

She opened her mouth. But nothing would come out.

“It's okay,” he said softly, catching her tears with his fingertips. “This has to be hard for you. Even if it felt right, it has to be hard.”

She struggled to catch her breath, not from exertion, but from the effort of not flying apart. “What if it all comes back every time I'm…”

With you, she wanted to finish, but that seemed a bit much. For God's sake, she didn't know whether she was still going to be in this town next week.

He kissed her. “Other memories will take the place of all that. It's going to take time, but it will happen.”

She glanced at the mirror and thought of the way he moved. As she recalled the feel and sight of him, the cold retreated some, ushered out of her by a wave of warmth.

“I hope you're right,” she said, running her hands through his hair. “I really do.”

Chapter 24

As they lay together, Vin covered Marie-Terese up with the best blanket he had: his own body. Damn, it felt good to be all crammed on his little bed with her, although he had to be careful with his hands and where they went. With so much exposed deliciously soft female skin so close to him…

After two orgasms, only one of which had been on time, he was still hard. And hungry. But he was not going to pressure her in any way.

So yeah, he watched where his palms went as he stroked her slowly, and he kept his hips out of the way, and he trained his eyes across the room instead of on, say, her perfect pink nipples.

“I'm sorry about the crying,” she said, as if she knew he was worried.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

She pressed her lips to his pec. “You did plenty.”

Well, if that didn't make him go all big dog in his chest. “I'd like to do it again sometime.”

“Would you?”

“Soon.”

The smile she gave him was bright as a rainbow. “Too bad you had only the one condom.”

“Talk about tragic.”

They stayed side by side until the cold breeze coming in through the window over took the hot drift from the vent above the bed.

“You're cold,” he said, rubbing the goose bumps on her arm.

“I'm comfortable, though.”

He reached over her and picked up her shirt off the floor. As he helped her into it, he paused to watch her breasts sway.

“You should never wear a bra. Ever.”

She laughed as she did up her buttons, and after he handed her the fleece she'd worn, he picked up her panties.

Oh, for God's sakes…he wanted to keep them. Which made him a perv and a jerk, but that was the caveman for you: He wanted something of his woman’s with him.

Except she wasn't his, was she. For fuck's sake, what woman in her right mind would sign on for a guy who'd just dumped his would-be fiancee? Yeah, real stable right there.

“I believe these are yours,” he murmured, handing over the slip of black with care.

“Yes, they would be.” She took them and treated him to one hell of a show as she put the things on — not because she was being deliberately erotic, but because to him she was pretty frickin' edible any way she came and no matter what she did.

The whole thing made him think about when he'd taken her jeans off. He'd stopped at that point and stared at her for so long because he'd wanted to go down on her right then and there: He'd been struck motionless by visions of moving her hips to the edge of the mattress and kneeling on the floor in front of her and taking his damn time with her.

In some ways, though, oral sex was more intimate than the whole penetration thing, and he'd been concerned that being with him would bring up bad memories for her. Which was exactly what had happened.

But hopefully there would be other times. Shortly. And a lot of them.

When he was dressed, and her bra was tucked in her pocket, they walked out of his old room, arm in arm, and as he passed the mirror, he took the picture of the Madonna with him, slipping it into his jacket.

Downstairs, he turned off the lights and lowered the heat, and when they got to the front door, he paused and looked around. “I should clean this place up.”

He had a feeling he wouldn't act on the impulse, however. Even though he had a crew of men he could send over to rip out all of the old crap and demo the baths and kitchen, he had a terrible inertia problem when it came to the house. In a lot of ways, it sucked the will to live right out of him.

On the way back to the Iron Mask, he held Marie-Terese's hand the whole time, except for when he had to shift.

Pulling into the club's parking lot, he glanced over. As she stared out her window, the line of her chin and the way her hair fell over her shoulder were incredibly beautiful.

And then he realized what she was looking at. The alley on the far side that was cordoned off with crime scene tape.

“You want me to follow you home?” he said.

She nodded, her eyes still locked on where those kids had been killed. “Would you mind?”

“I would love to.” Man, trust from a woman could make a guy feel tall as a mountain. Marie-Terese turned to face him. “Thank you…for everything.”

He leaned in slowly, in case kissing so close to where she had worked was going to be too much. She didn't move out of the way, though, and as their lips met briefly, he inhaled deep. Clean laundry and fresh woman. That was what she smelled like. Better than any perfume ever made. “Can I see you again?” he asked.

Ducking her head, she picked her purse up from the floor. “I hope so.”

With a last, too-quick smile, she sprang the door, got out, and went over to her car. Instead of using a