'Don't worry, sweetheart,' he murmured against her lips. 'I'm not done with you yet.' He was beginning to wonder if he ever would be.
He silenced the answer to that question with another aggressive, soul-searing kiss and maneuvered them both out of the glass enclosure. The bed was much too far away, and he pushed her down to the thick, plush rug laid out on the floor. After quickly shucking his soaked boxer briefs, he joined her.
Nudging her legs wide apart, he settled between her sleek thighs and slid up and over her wet body. She splayed her palms on his chest, glided them up to his shoulders and around his neck as she arched against him and hooked her calves against the back of his thighs, urging him to complete the act. He drove into her in a seemingly endless stroke, and growled deep in his throat as she took every hard, solid inch of him. Until he didn't know where he ended and she began.
The pleasure of being inside Lora was so intense, so surreal, that he shuddered and tried to absorb the moment, how agonizingly perfect, how incredibly right, she felt beneath him. Hot, slick, tight. Bracing his forearms by her shoulders, he framed her face in his hands, grazed her plump bottom lip with his thumb, and watched as her gaze darkened with need.
Then she closed her eyes, whispered his name, and rolled her hips sinuously against his, beckoning him to finish what he'd started.
He wanted this to last. Wanted to linger and savor and watch her as she came again. His cock, however, refused to take the slow, leisurely route, and because his overly aroused body demanded he do so, he withdrew and surged back into her, again and again, long, hard strokes that increased in power and strength and depth.
She met him thrust for thrust, moving in perfect rhythm with him as he pumped into her. She slid her hands down the slope of his back, her fingers digging into muscle and flesh as she tried to drag him closer, deeper, with every fluid stroke. She bit his shoulder and writhed against him in wild, reckless abandon.
Their mating was raw and primitive, a culmination of every desire they'd suppressed, every seductive tease between them, every erotic fantasy he'd had of possessing her just like this. It didn't take long for the heat coiling low in his belly to spiral down to his groin. As if in sync with his body's impending release, her lashes fluttered back open, and she met his gaze, whimpering helplessly as she started to convulse around him.
Her orgasm triggered his own, and he followed her right over the edge with a rough, guttural groan. His climax was scorching hot, an unbridled surrender of body and soul that left him shaken and stretched across her limp, sated form, his face pressed against her damp neck as he struggled to come back to his senses.
And when he did, it was with the realization that if this one night was all he had of her, it would be enough. It would have to be.
LORA walked out of the bathroom after drying her hair and into Joel's bedroom, just as he entered from the hallway with a mug in one hand and a spoon in the other. His gaze took in the long-sleeved, thigh-length flannel shirt he'd given her to wear, sans underwear, and lingered on her bare legs just long enough to remind her of how wantonly she'd wrapped those same legs around him in the throes of passion less than an hour ago. The erotic memory made her skin flush all over again.
As for him, he'd pulled on a pair of baggy black sweatpants, leaving his well-built chest and muscled arms naked for her appreciative gaze, though she had no problem remembering how equally impressive he was below the waist. He'd taken a quick shower after making love to her, and while she'd opted to dry her hair, he'd combed the damp strands of his hair away from his face with his fingers, leaving it an appealing, tousled mess. He looked hotter and more gorgeous than ever, this incredible man who'd taken such good care of her since the attack and made her feel so safe and secure.
'I made you some chicken noodle soup to help keep you warm.' He lifted the steaming mug he was holding as he approached her. 'Why don't you get into bed and beneath the covers.'
She smiled, amused by this take-charge side to Joel, along with the small, concerned frown marring his brows. After their hot shower and now that he'd switched the heater on in the house, she was plenty warm, but she did as he suggested. After pushing the pillows up against the headboard, she sat down on the bed and pulled the comforter and blanket all the way up to her lap.
'I've got your clothes running through the wash so they'll be clean and dry by morning,' he said, and handed her the mug and spoon.
She grabbed the cup by the handle and dipped the spoon inside, stirring the heated liquid. 'You've been busy while I was drying my hair. Who would have thought you had a domestic side?'
He braced his hands on his hips and shrugged. 'I just thought you'd like to be able to wear your own clothes home tomorrow.'
'Oh, I don't know,' she said, giving him a playful grin. 'Your flannel shirt is pretty darn comfortable.'
Normally, a light flirtatious comment like that would have earned her one of his sexy smiles, and maybe an equally teasing reply. Not tonight. He looked much too serious, and she wondered if it was all worry on her behalf, or was he having regrets about what just happened between them? She certainly harbored none, not when she'd been the one to beg him to make love to her.
'I should have asked you long before now, but how are your hands?' he asked, smoothly changing the subject.
'A little sore.' She looked at her left palm, which had a few scrapes and scratches from the asphalt, then showed the red marks to Joel. 'I might have to keep myself off the books at the spa for a few days when it comes to client massages, but I'll be okay.'
'Good.' He nodded and started around the bed to the other side. 'Eat your soup before it gets cold.'
She brought the mug closer so she didn't spill, lifted the spoon to her mouth, and inhaled a familiar scent, which was accompanied by a rich broth, noodles, and little pieces of chicken. 'Ummm.' She swallowed the warmth, feeling it slide all the way down to her stomach. 'This tastes really good. Thank you.'
He settled himself on the mattress next to her, sitting upright against his pillows. 'I wish it was something better than canned, condensed soup, but it's all I had.'
'I don't mind.' She took another bite, realizing that she was actually very hungry. 'I grew up eating cheap canned soup, so it's sort of one of those comfort foods for me, if you know what I mean.'
'Your mom never made homemade chicken soup?' he asked, surprise in his tone.
'Actually, she did. She was a great cook and I loved the fresh, homemade chicken soup that she'd make when either myself or Zach got sick,' she said, remembering those happier days, when her mother had reveled in her position as Bill Marshall's wife and her role as mother to two children. 'But that was before my father told my mother he was having an affair and wanted a divorce, then packed his bags and walked out the door. My mother was never the same after that, and Zach and I learned pretty quickly how to fend for ourselves.'
He regarded her curiously. 'Never the same how?'
She finished taking a drink of the broth and stared at him in bewilderment. 'Zach never told you about what happened with our mother?'
'Just bits and pieces.' He clasped his hands over his bare stomach, drawing her gaze to that taut, lean belly of his and the sprinkling of hair that whorled around his navel and made an enticing trail south. 'He mentioned that your parents divorced when he was young, and that both of them had since died, but he never shared details. Whatever happened between your parents wasn't something he liked to talk about.'
Neither did she, because it stirred up a lot of hurt and pain. Even now, she felt old, buried resentment rise to the surface. 'What my father did was rough on Zach.' And accounted for a lot of her brother's rebellion and reckless behavior when he was a teenager, and even now as an adult.
'I'm sure it was rough on you, too,' he said softly.
The dark, smoky blue hue of his eyes searched hers, silently offering the kind of comfort and compassion that made her feel connected to Joel, in a way that she'd never experienced with any other man. Startled by that notion, she glanced away from his mesmerizing gaze, scraped out the last bit of noodles and chicken from the mug, and told herself not to read too much into his interest, and his too-knowing comment.
'It was rough on all of us,' she told him. Their father's reckless, egotistical choices had not only devastated their mother and destroyed their family as a whole, but it had also shattered her and Zach's illusion of love and security, as well. 'As for me, after my father walked out, someone had to make sure that our lives continued as normally as possible, especially mine and Zach's, and that became my responsibility.'
He frowned at her. 'Where was your mother during all this?'
