Twice as Hot (Tales of an Extraordinary Girl #2)(41)
Author: Gena Showalter

One of his hands kneaded my breast through the towel, and the nipple pearled to a sharp little point. He moaned into my mouth. I swallowed the sound, the flavor adding a new level of passion.

As I arched into him –  yes, God yes, so good  – his erection rubbing against me, common sense tried to rear its ugly head. Stay in control. Don’t give him everything. Hold a part of yourself back.

But why? my heart cried.

Without his memory, he’ll hurt you once the loving is over. And, as you tried to remind him, you could kill him with your fire. He might not be able to cage your abilities like he used to, even though he thinks he can.

True, so true. I’d have to be careful, stay in command. Enjoy him, yes. For a little while. Because I simply could not resist him anymore. And I needed to forget, if only for a bit, the bleak abyss my life had become.

But as common sense demanded, I’d have to hold a part of myself back. That was the only safe way I could allow myself this kiss. And I had to have this kiss, for he was devouring me as if he needed me to survive. He was here, in my arms, craving more of me. He was the man I loved, the man I would – hopefully – marry.

"I want to touch you," he said, releasing my hair and tugging at my towel.

"No. Too much," I replied between nips and licks.

"Want to touch you. Want you to touch me."

I was working his shirt over his head before he’d finished the sentence. I tossed the material to the floor in a forgotten heap. Then I flattened my palms against his chest and gasped. He was hot, both hard and soft, as though fire flowed in his veins, as though silk covered stone.

"You’re so beautiful." I’d missed this contact with him. This connection.

"Not as beautiful as you." He licked his way down my throat, then licked his way back up. "Touch me more, but kiss me, too. Your mouth is killing me, and I want to die."

"Like this?" I kissed a path down his neck just as he’d done mine, my nails lightly scraping at his back.

All the while, fire flowed through my veins. I could feel the first tendrils waking up, sparking to life. I tamped them down, using every ounce of strength I possessed.

"You were made for me, weren’t you? My sweetest temptation." His fingers traced the bottom of my towel, slowing drawing it up…up…revealing inch after inch of thigh. When he reached the curve of my butt, he stopped and played, massaging. "Perfection."

I bit the cord at the base of his throat, just the way I knew he liked, and he hissed in a breath. "Careful, Rome darling, or you’ll fall in love with me again."

For a moment, he didn’t reply, and the bedroom echoed with the sound of our panting. "I’ll love you in and out of that catsuit. I know that." So Sherridan was right about the catsuit after all, both the wearing of and the peeling off. Score! I didn’t have time to gloat about – uh, dwell on it, though, because he arched his hips, rubbing his erection between my legs.

I cried out at the pleasure, had to fortify my grip on my inner fire. "What about the dress? Did you love me in that?"

He chuckled softly, darkly. "In that dress you almost gave me heart failure. Then, in nothing but the foam, you were like a fantasy come to life. Then, in that halter and miniskirt, you had me drooling. Now, in the towel, you’re a dream come true."

"Don’t – don’t talk like that." Already the fire inside me churned to be released. Any more of his sweet talk, and I’d lose my grip on it.

"How’re you doing?" he asked, as if sensing my struggle.

"Burning," I said truthfully, and then licked one of his ni**les. I just couldn’t help myself. A shiver stole through me and flowed into him. "But I’m okay. Got it under control as long as we keep things physical.

No emotions."

The muscles in his stomach quivered and he tangled one hand in my wet hair, pulling tight. The other remained on my ass, squeezing. "Give me the heat, baby."

I froze in shock, in joy. Baby. He’d just called me baby. That’s what he’d called me BML – before memory loss. Part of me had thought never to hear him speak the endearment again. Hearing it now, while I was in his arms…there was no stopping my surge of emotion, which was like adding kindling to the fire inside me.

"What?" he asked, grip loosening on my hair but not my ass.

"N-nothing." Mind blank, Belle. Mind blank. Only desire is welcome right now. I kissed and nipped my way to his other nipple and gave it the same treatment. He was hard against me, hard and thick and long. I knew just how magnificent it would feel to ease him inside me, pushing deep, all the way to the hilt. He would stretch me, and I would love it. We’d both become mindless, lost, and the pleasure would be extraordinary. We’d explode like rockets.

But what would happen afterward? I found myself wondering again. So much for a blank mind.

Again, as if he sensed my internal struggle, he rubbed against me, once, twice, and I moaned, once more losing myself. The pleasure was just too damn good.

Higher and higher my fire raged. Tighter and tighter I gripped it, holding it captive. But for how much longer? "I – I need a moment," I panted. I jerked my hips backward, out of touching range. Several deep, shuddering breaths later and I still wasn’t in as much control as I would have liked.

Rome traced a fingertip along the curve of my cheek. "What’s wrong, baby?" Baby again. "Just have to catch my breath."

"Yeah. Right. Give me your heat," he commanded again.

"No."

When his fingers began inching down my throat to the edge of the towel, tracing as if he meant to push it away and caress my ni**les skin to skin, perhaps bending down and kissing my belly before laving at the desire between my legs, the fire inside me grew, spread, soon demanding release.

I needed to push him away. I settled for dropping my hands to my sides. I straightened, but couldn’t look him in the eyes. Not yet. Those eyes always enslaved me. "We – we have to stop. For now."

"We just got started," he said, but his fingers ceased their movement.

God, do I know it,I thought, already mourning what could have been. There was so much more we could do, so much more I yearned to do. "I’m sorry."

He sighed. "Either you changed your mind about wanting me, which I doubt is the case since I can smell the sweetness of your arousal, or you’re afraid to give me your fire." My legs were trembling so much I expected to topple at any moment, and this time the trembling came from something besides hunger, something besides anger. He was right, it came from fear. "Doesn’t matter which supposition is correct. Tell me you remember something about our life together." Something, anything. Only then could I trust him to properly filter me.