Lazlo’s Last Stand

aristocratic bearing-bespeaking power and authority. He seemed larger than life, which she supposed was only natural for a man who had become a legend in his field.

The legendary Corbett Lazlo.

Funny, she thought, that in all the years she’d worked for him, and for all that time secretly been in love with him, she’d never once felt he might be beyond her reach. Infuriating, yes, for refusing to recognize she was a grown woman, intelligent and independent and capable of making her own choices, and not just his very young student and protegee, but never unattainable. Why now, when she’d finally won from him the things she’d longed for-both recognition and love-did she feel such overwhelming awe?

Corbett Lazlo, this amazing man, loves me.

Was that it? Was it the mere fact of being loved back by the man she’d chosen that filled her with such a profound sense of wonder? Would this moment be as magical, would this feeling of being in a dream be the same if we were about to make love in his bed, or mine?

“Wait here, love.” Corbett’s voice broke into her thoughts without scattering them.

She waited, leaning against the same stalactite-or stalagmite?-from which she’d startled him the day before, and watched him skirt the edge of the thermal pool. Watched him through a mist of wonder, rocking slightly from the pulsing of her heartbeat against the barrier of solid rock.

He placed the lantern on the ledge where it had sat that day, then came back to take her hand. “Watch your step-it can be slippery.” He guided her around the edge of the pool to a wider spot where the rocks had formed a natural bench. “We can put our things here,” he said, taking the armful of towels and toiletries from her and placing them on the bench. “Our clothes, too…if you like.”

She nodded. And then, to her dismay, she shivered.

“Oops, sorry,” she said, giving him a rueful smile, “I guess I’m a little nervous.”

He took her hands, enfolded them in both of his and lifted them to his lips. “Believe it or not,” he said huskily, “so am I.”

She stared at him, studying the planes and hollows of his face as if she’d never seen them before as she said slowly, “I’ve seen you in nothing but a pair of shorts. You’ve seen me in my workout clothes. But this…it’s different, isn’t it?”

He kissed the backs of her fingers and gravely nodded. “It’s different.”

“I want you to see me, and I want to see you, but I…” She closed her eyes and caught a breath that felt sharp inside. “This is going to sound funny, since I’ve made such a point of telling you you’re not my teacher, but-” she opened her eyes and tried again to smile “-I’d really like it if right now you’d tell me what to do.”

“Hmm, okay…” He cocked his head and gave her one of his endearingly crooked smiles. “We may need to have a discussion at some point in the near future about the inference to be taken from that, but for the moment, glad to oblige. So here’s what you do. Take these lovely hands, here, which, by the way, I believe are almost as cold as mine-”

“Oh-sorry!”

“Never mind,” he said, tightening his hold when she tried to pull them away, “I fully intend to warm them soon enough. Anyway, as I was saying, you take these hands and place them here.” He guided her hands to his waist as he spoke, and she uncurled them and felt the muscles of his torso grow taut against her palms. “Yes, that’s lovely. Cold, but lovely. Now-”

But she was already gathering in the fabric of his pullover and tugging it free, lifting it and laying her hands on the smooth warm skin beneath. He caught a breath, then let it go in a sigh. “Ah, yes…that’s it. How I do love a woman with a brilliant-” His breath hissed sharply between his teeth as she lifted the shirt higher and ducked her head to brush her mouth across his newly bared chest. She didn’t flinch or gasp at the rainbow of colors spreading across the injured side of his chest, or the way his ribcage moved slightly out of sync when he breathed. It was only a part of him, of the man who was now a part of her, and perhaps a reminder to them both to go gently.

After that he may have spoken, but she didn’t hear him, having lost herself in exploring the wonders of his body. His beautiful body, that she’d seen before-this part, at least-and imagined so often. But she could never have imagined the way it would make her feel to touch it like this…touch with her lips the textures of it, somehow both silky-smooth yet altogether masculine…taste with her tongue the salty tang of his skin, and know for the first time the raw, blood-stirring scent of a clean, healthy man’s passion. She couldn’t have imagined, as she touched him this way, that her own body would swell and tingle and lose all track of its own boundaries, as if she’d already began the process of ceasing to be one individual and becoming part of another. Becoming part of him-this man.

She couldn’t have known how frightening it would be.

But then she felt his hands on her neck…her shoulders. Felt the power in them, and the gentleness. Fear fled. Though she couldn’t have put any of it into words-either the reasons for the fear or the conquering of it-she somehow knew it was right, this coming together, this oneness. It was right because he was right. Right for her. Her heart had always known it, and now her soul and body knew it, too.

This is Corbett Lazlo, my love. Mine.

Joy and pride surged through her as his hands gathered her sweater and drew it over her head. She lifted her head and smiled at him as she pulled her arms free and he tossed the sweater onto the ledge. A moment later his pullover followed. She rested her fingertips on the uninjured side of his chest and gazed into his eyes. His eyes smiled back into hers as his searching fingers found the fastening on her bra. She gave a little hiccup of laughter as he drew the straps over her shoulders, then added the lacy scrap to the pile on the rock ledge.

Her nipples were already hard, so hard they hurt. Anticipating his touch made her tremble. His fingers, his mouth…either would be too intense. How would she stand it? Her legs were so weak already…

Then his hands were warm on her shoulders, stroking so lightly down her back, as if she were a wildcat to be gentled, guiding her toward him, bringing her against him so delicately, so softly she felt him first as a warm breath on her nipples, then a feather’s touch, then the soft tickle of his hair. From there her sensitized nerves spread tingling heat throughout her body, making every part of her swell, and yearn…and she gasped out a sob of sheer relief when he brought her at last, oh, so gently, against him.

He folded his arms around her and her head came to snuggle into the hollow of his shoulder. He let his cheek rest on the soft, fragrant pillow of her curls and whispered brokenly, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that. How good you feel.”

“I don’t think I want to know,” she replied with a shaken sigh. “Because if it’s any better than I feel right now I don’t think I could stand it.”

There were any number of thoughts that flashed through his mind, then. Things he might say in reply to that, things a confident, even arrogant man might have said. He’d been called both those things and probably deservedly, but he doubted anyone would believe him or understand if he tried to explain the way he felt right now. He didn’t understand it himself. This strange vulnerability that came over him at odd moments-sometimes the worst possible moments-contrasted with a fierce protectiveness, the feeling he would find himself possessed of the strength of Hercules if that was what was needed to keep her safe. Intense pride that this woman-so young and bright and beautiful-was his, but also a humbling sense of awe that she should have chosen to be.

One thing he did know. He meant to spend the rest of his life trying very hard to see that she never regretted her choice.

All this went through his mind in the second or two it took him to reconnect with the fact that Lucia was shivering. He doubted it was entirely due to nerves, although she must have thought it was, since she seemed to be trying hard not to. It wasn’t freezing cold in the cave, but it wasn’t all that warm, either.

“Edesem,” he said gently, “as lovely as this feels, the fact is, it’s much warmer in the water. Do you mind if we proceed?”

She drew back, her hands slipping once more to his waist, and looked at him gravely. “No. I’d like it very much. What comes next?”

“Shoes,” he said, after a moment’s consideration. “Definitely. Otherwise removing one’s trousers can quite easily become an exercise in low comedy.”

She gave a snuffle of laughter, stifled it, then glared sternly at him long enough to say, “Yes, we certainly wouldn’t want comedy intruding upon something as serious as sex.” Then she gave in to the laughter once more. “Oh, dear,” she said contritely when the giggles had subsided, “I am sorry. But I just