Best Laid Plans

Best Laid Plans Page 7

Abra blinked, wondering if he was a mirage. "What are you doing here?"

"Standing in the hallway. Are you going to let me in?"

"Yes, but - " She stepped back, and he came in and dropped his flight bag on the floor. Mirages didn't look this good. Or smell this good. Confused, she glanced back toward the bedroom and the phone machine. "I just got your message. You didn't say you were back."

"I wasn't." Since she didn't seem to be in any hurry to do so, he shut the door himself. "Now I am."

She thought of the plans she had been making. Taking a quick look around her jumbled apartment, Abra ran a helpless hand through her hair. "You should have told me you were coming back tonight. I wasn't -  I'm not ready."

"What's the matter, Wilson?" To please himself, he put his hands on her shoulders, then ran them slowly up and down her arms, gradually pushing her robe aside. She was definitely giving him a whole new perspective on athletic wear. "Got another man under the bed? In the closet?"

"Don't be stupid." Frustrated, she pulled back. She knew her face was scrubbed as clean as a baby's. And her hair - she didn't need a mirror to know that was hopeless. Then there was the green-and-white jersey. Hardly the sophisticated, seductive lingerie she'd envisioned. "Damn it, Cody, you should have let me know you were coming."

He checked an impulse to gather her up and shut her up. Maybe he'd let himself get carried away thinking she'd be as glad to see him as he was to see her. And maybe he shouldn't have assumed she'd be waiting patiently and alone for him to come back.

"I might have," he said slowly, "if I'd gotten you instead of a recording. Where were you?"

"When? Oh." Her mind still racing, she shook her head. "I was out to dinner."

"I see." He stuck his hand in his pocket, and it knocked against the jeweler's box. He didn't have any claims on her. The hell he didn't. "'Anyone I know?"

"My mother," she said absently. "What are you grinning at?"

"Nothing."

Her chin came up as she snatched at the sleeve of her robe. "I know how I look, Johnson. If you'd given me any warning at all I could have done something about it. The place is a wreck."

"It's always a wreck," he pointed out. It was all beginning to seep in. She'd wanted to set the stage, and he'd come in ahead of his cue.

"I could have cleaned up a little." Scowling, she kicked a shoe aside. "I only have lousy wine."

"Well, in that case, I'd better go." He turned away, then turned back as if he'd had a sudden thought. "Before I do, I have something to say about the way you look."

Abra folded her arms, and the glint was back in her eyes. "Watch your step."

"I guess there's only one way to handle this honestly." He stepped toward her and put a friendly hand on her shoulder. "You do want us to be honest with each other, don't you, Abra?"

"Maybe," she muttered. "Well, to a point."

"I've got to tell you something, and you should be tough enough to take it."

"I can take it." She started to shrug his hand away. "I wish you'd - "

Whatever she wished would have to wait. He jerked her forward and crushed her mouth with his. She tasted heat, waves of it that only increased when her lips parted on a half moan. In one quick movement he stripped the robe from her, then took his hands up and under the thin jersey to explore naked skin and subtle curves. Gasping, she strained against his rough hands. Then she was clinging, her knees buckling, as he sent her arrowing to the edge.

"Cody..."

"Shut up," he murmured before he pressed his lips to her throat.

'"Kay." She could manage no more than a moan as his fingers dug into her hips. Her head was spinning, but underneath the dazed pleasure was an urgency every bit as great as his. She tugged at his jacket as they began to work their way across the room. "I want you," she whispered, yanking his shirt up and over his head. In one quick, possessive stroke, she ran her hands up his chest. "Now."

Her desperate murmur triggered explosions inside him. He'd thought he'd be ready for them, but anticipation and reality were worlds apart. Desire became raw, impatient, primitive. For both, the bedroom was too far away. When they tumbled onto the couch he was still half dressed, with each of them fighting to free him. Her hands were wild, digging into him, dragging over him, while she reared up to keep her mouth fused with his. He could feel the heat radiating from her, driving him farther and farther from sanity.

With a sudden oath, he pulled the jersey down, yanking it to her waist so that he could bury his mouth at her breast. With an abandonment she'd never known before, she arched against him, pressing him closer, welcoming the dangerous scrape of teeth and tongue.

The lights burned around them. In the apartment overhead someone turned a stereo up loud, and the bass vibrated in a low, passionate rhythm. The delicate fragrance she'd splashed on an hour before mingled with the musky scent of desire.

She was going to drive him crazy. That was all Cody could think as he followed the trail of her jersey down, farther down the smooth, taut skin of her torso. Everywhere he touched, everywhere he tasted, she responded with a ripe, huge pleasure that astonished him. She pulled at his hair, and the shuddering breaths she drew in were nearly sobs.

They'd waited too long - a lifetime. Now they were together - no more evasions, no more excuses. Only impatience.

When clothing was finally stripped away, her long, graceful limbs twined around him. She could no longer think, nor did she wish to. She wanted only to feel. She wanted to murmur to him, something, anything that would tell him what was happening inside her. But the words wouldn't form. She had never wanted like this, never needed like this. Her body felt like a furnace that only he could stoke higher. There was a tremendous ache building. Instinctively she reached out, half in delight, half in defense. As if he understood, he drove her to a shuddering climax.

She gasped out his name and she felt herself falling, endlessly, weightlessly. Even as she spiraled down he caught her and sent her soaring again.

He could see her in the lamplight, her skin sheened with moisture, her eyes dazed and open. Her hair was spread out on the rug where they'd rolled. He tried to say her name, but the air in his lungs burned like fire, and the word flamed out like a curse when he crushed her lips one last time.

He watched her peak again, felt her fingers dig ruthlessly into his back. Driven to the limit, he plunged into her. She rose up to meet him with a speed that tore at his already-tattered control.

Fast, hard, hot, they raced together to a place neither of them had ever been.

Weakened, stunned, Cody collapsed onto her. He had neither the energy nor the clearheadedness to separate what had happened to him into individual actions, reactions, sensations. It was as though one huge bubble of emotion had enclosed him and then burst, leaving him drained.

She was as soft as water beneath him, her breathing slow and shallow. He felt her hand slide off his back and fall limply to the rug. Beneath his lips her heart beat quickly, and he closed his eyes and let himself drift with the sound and the rhythm.

They didn't speak. Even if words had been possible, he wouldn't have known which ones to use to tell her what she had done to him. Done for him. He only knew that she belonged to him now and that he would do whatever was necessary to keep her. Was this what love did? she wondered. Did it fill you with wild energy, then leave you so fragile that you thought you would dissolve from your own breathing? Anything she had ever felt before paled to insignificance compared to what she had experienced with Cody.

Everything had been new and almost unbearably intense. She hadn't had to think or plan or decipher. She'd only had to act on her own needs - needs she had successfully ignored until the first time he'd touched her.

It seemed he understood and accepted that. Just as it seemed he understood and accepted her. No one else ever had - not like this.

Was it love, she asked herself, or just the most overpowering of desires? Did it matter? She felt his fingers tangle in her hair and closed her eyes. It mattered - too much. Just a touch and she was tempted to toss away everything she believed, everything she'd planned, if only he would touch her again.

There was no point in denying what she felt for him, and she didn't have the courage to think about what he might feel for her.

He pressed a kiss to her throat. "You okay?"

"I don't know." It was an honest answer, she thought as she dragged in a deep, greedy breath. "I think so." Clearing her throat, she opened her eyes again. They were on the floor, she realized, wondering how they'd managed it. "How about you?"

"Fine. As long as I don't have to move for the next week or two." He turned his head so that he could nuzzle lazily at her neck. "Still mad?"

"I wasn't mad." The trace of his tongue along her already-sensitized skin had her shifting beneath him. "I just wanted things to be set up."

"Set up?" He shifted lazily to her ear.

"Yes. I was planning..." She let her words trail off as he skimmed his fingertip over her nipple. She started to say his name, but the word ended on a sigh as his lips teased hers.

"Amazing," he murmured as her slow, sinuous movements had him hardening inside her. "Absolutely amazing."

She was as astonished as he when passion leaped out again and took control.

Sometime during the night they fell into the bed, but they didn't sleep. It was as though in the few weeks they had known each other a mountain of needs had built and tonight it had come tumbling down in an avalanche. There was no music, no flicker of candles, no seduction of silk and lace. They came together without frills, without illusions.

Energy fed on energy, desire on desire. In the darkest hour of the night they fell into an exhausted sleep, only to wake with the first light of dawn hungry for more. Passions, though satisfied again and again, remained raw until, in a tangle of limbs, they slept.

She awoke with the sun full on her face and the bed empty beside her. Groggy, she stroked a hand over the sheet, murmuring.

"Cody?" Sighing, she opened her eyes and saw that she was alone.

Abra sat straight up, looking quickly around the room. She couldn't have dreamed it, she thought. No one could have dreamed that. Rubbing her hands over her face, she tried to think.

- Could he have left her? Sometime during the morning could he just have strolled out as easily as he'd strolled in? And what if he had? she asked herself as she leaned back against the headboard. They had said no strings, no commitments. Cody was free to come and go as he chose, just as she was.

If it hurt, if it left her feeling empty and miserable, it was no one's fault but her own. The trouble, Abra thought, was that she always wanted more than she had. Closing her eyes, she reminded herself that she had just been given a night no woman would ever forget. If it wasn't enough, the lack was in her.

"I was hoping you'd wake up with a smile on your face," Cody said from the doorway.

Abra's eyes flew open. In a nervous gesture she gathered the rumpled sheet to her breasts. "I thought you'd gone."

He walked over and, easing down on the mattress, offered her a cup of coffee. "Gone where?"

"I..." Feeling foolish, she sipped at the coffee and scalded her tongue. "Just gone."

His eyes darkened briefly, but then he shrugged. "You still have a very poor opinion of me."

"It's not that. I just thought you probably had things to do."

"Yeah." He shifted, sliding a leg onto the bed. He was damned if he could remember a night with a woman ever making him feel so light-headed. And awkward. Taking his time, he sipped. "Your coffee's stale, you know."

"I never seem to have time to make it in the morning." She drank again. Small talk. That seemed the best way out, and the safest. "I'd, ah, offer you breakfast, but - "

"I know. There's nothing in the kitchen but a banana and a bag of corn chips."

"There's cookies," she muttered.

"I thought they were rocks." Deliberately he put a hand under her chin. "You want to look at me?"

She did, while her free hand moved restlessly on the sheets. "I'd have gotten a few things if I'd known you were coming back."

"I don't think bacon and eggs is the issue here. Why don't you tell me what the problem is, Red?"

"There's no problem." She struggled for a casual tone. She was an adult, she reminded herself. As such she should be able to handle the morning after. But what did you say to a man in the full light of day when he'd taken you to the darkest depths of your own passions? She could hardly tell him that there had been no one who had given her so much - or taken so much.

"Would you rather I'd gone?"

"No." She said it too quickly, and she swore silently. So much for small talk, she thought, and any pretense of sophistication. "Listen, I don't know what I'm supposed to do next, what I'm supposed to say or how I'm supposed to act. I haven't had a lot of practice at this kind of thing."

"No?" Thoughtful now, he took the coffee from her and set it aside. "How much have you had?" It wasn't a question he'd known he would ask. He'd told himself that her past life was just that - her life. But he wanted to know if there was anyone, anyone at all, who had shared what he had experienced during the night.

"I don't think this is a joke."

He grabbed her shoulders before she could roll out of bed. "Am I laughing? I get the feeling you're judging what's happening here by something that happened before. I don't like it."

"Sorry," she said stiffly.

"Not good enough." He kept his hold firm so that she couldn't yank away. "This guy, the one who bounced your heart around... tell me about him."

Angry color rose to her cheeks as she tried to push him away. "I don't see that that's any of your business."

"You see wrong. Nothing new."

She struggled with the temper she was very close to losing. "I haven't asked you about any of the women you've been involved with."

"No, but you could if you thought it was important. I think this is."

"Well, you're wrong. It's not important."

But it was important. He saw it in her eyes, heard it in her voice. Both tempted him to be gentle with her. If comfort had been the answer, he would have offered it. Sometimes life and love were tough.

"If that's true, why are you upset?"

"I'm not upset."

"I thought we said something about being honest."

"Maybe we did. We should also have said something about not poking around in past relationships."

"Fair enough." He gave her a long, level look. "Unless they seep over into this one. If I'm going to be compared to someone else, I want to know why."

"You want to hear about him? Fine." She pulled away, taking the sheet with her to wrap around her body. "He was an architect." She sent Cody a humorless smile.

"Is that your basis for comparison?"

"You're the one who says I'm comparing," she countered. "You could say I have a habit of tumbling into bed with architects. I was just out of college and working full-time at Thornway. I'd been given a shot as assistant to the engineer on a small project. James was the architect. He'd just moved from Philadelphia. He was very smooth, very smart." She moved her shoulders. "I wasn't."

It was hurting her, and he found he couldn't take it. Rising, he dipped his hands into the trousers he'd pulled on earlier. "All right. I get the picture."

"No." She pulled the sheet more securely around her as they faced each other over the bed. "You wanted to hear about it, and I'm going to tell you. We started seeing each other, and I got stars in my eyes. Looking back, I can't say he promised anything, but he let me believe what I wanted. I'd always wanted to be first with someone. You know, the person someone thinks about before they think about anyone or anything else."

"Yes, I know." He would have gone to her then if he'd thought she'd accept it.

Because he sounded as though he did, she calmed down a bit. "I was very young, and I still believed things like that happened, so when he told me how much he wanted me I was ready to take him on any terms. When I went to bed with him, I was smelling orange blossoms."

"And he wasn't."

"Oh, it was more than that." She laughed, pushing the hair back from her face. "I'd like to think if it was only a matter of me wanting more than I could have I'd have swallowed hard and gone on. I'm not a whiner, Cody."

"No." Anything but, he thought. "What happened?"

"I was packing to go on a weekend trip with him. It was going to be very romantic, very intimate. A ski weekend up north - snow, roaring fires, long nights. I was certain he was going to propose. I was already picturing white picket fences. Then I had a visitor. It's funny." Her voice quieted as she looked beyond him to something only she could see. "I was nearly out the door. I don't like to think what would have happened if I'd been a little quicker. The visitor turned out to be his wife, a wife he hadn't bothered to tell me existed."

Taking a deep breath, Abra sat down behind her drawing board. "The worst part was that she loved the bastard and was coming to see me to beg me to let him go. She was ready and willing to forgive him, if only I'd take pity on her and step aside."

Abra pressed her fingers to her eyes as the memory of that scene played back all too clearly in her head, and with it the shame, the hard, bitter shame. "I'm not the other-woman type, Cody. At first I thought she was lying. I was sure of it. But she wasn't lying. That became horribly clear."

She dropped her hands, folding them loosely together. "I just stood there and listened to her tell me about herself and the three-year-old boy they had and how she wanted to save her marriage more than anything. How they had moved out west to make a new start because there had been other incidents. Other women. I felt more horrid than I ever want to feel again. Not just used, not just betrayed, but vile, really ugly and vile. She cried and begged and I couldn't say anything at all. I'd been sleeping with her husband."

Cody eased down on the bed across from her. He had to choose his words carefully. "Would you... have become involved with him if you'd known?"

"No. I asked myself that a lot after it was all over. No, I wouldn't have... couldn't have."

"Then why are you blaming yourself for something you couldn't control? He deceived you every bit as much as he deceived his wife."

"It's not just blame. I got over that, or most of it, and I got over him." It wasn't easy, but she made herself look at him. "I've never been able to forget the fact that I opened myself up to what happened to me. I never asked him any questions. I never asked myself any questions. When you make that big a mistake once, you better be careful not to repeat it. So I concentrated on my career and left the romance to Jessie."

She hadn't been with anyone else, he realized with a kind of dull amazement. There had been no one else in her life, and when he'd come into it he'd rolled in like a bulldozer. He thought of the night. It had been wonderful, exciting, overwhelming, but he hadn't been gentle, he hadn't been tender. He hadn't shown her any of the romance she was claiming she had decided to live without.

"Abra, are you afraid you're making the same mistake with me?"

"You're not married."

"No, and there's no one else." He paused when she turned her head to look at him. "You're not a diversion or a convenience to me."

She could never explain how those words made her feel. How could she have known such a tiny flicker of hope could burn so brightly? "I'm not comparing you to James - or maybe I was, a little. It's me. I feel stupid because I don't know how to handle this kind of thing. My mother..."

"What about your mother?"

Abra rested her elbows on the drawing board and dipped her head into her hands. After a moment she straightened again. "All my life I've watched her swing from one man to another. It was always so easy for her, so light, so natural. It doesn't work for me."

He went to her to take her arm and lift her gently to her feet. "I don't want you to act any way that doesn't suit you, or be anything you're not." He brushed his lips over her brow, knowing that if he kissed her now he'd want her in the bed. She needed more than that now, whether she understood it or not. "Let's just take it from here, Red. A day at a time. I care about you. You can believe that."

"I do." She drew back. "I think I do."

He pulled her back to hug her in a way that made her eyes widen in surprise. There was something so sweet, so uncomplicated, about the gesture. "We've got the weekend ahead of us. Get dressed. I'll buy you some breakfast."

Abra was a little amazed at how easily Cody could change from the reckless lover to the casual friend. She was always surprised at how easy he made it for her to make the, same transition. Breathing space, she decided as they shared a meal in a dusty diner Cody had unearthed along the highway.

She already knew his appetite - for food and other pleasures - so she barely lifted a brow when he packed away enough for two lumberjacks. It was the trip to the market, at his insistence, that left her reeling. When they returned to her apartment they were carrying what would have been for Abra a year's supply of groceries.

"What are we supposed to do with this stuff?" She dumped two bags on the counter in the kitchen, then stood back as Cody did the same.

"We eat it. At various times of the day." He began to pull out produce. "These are what's known as the basics."

"For a dormitory, maybe." She cast a dubious eye at the pile growing on the counter. "Do you cook?"

"No." He tossed her a bag of apples. "That's why you buy stuff that doesn't need it. Or..." He pulled out a can of chow mein and a frozen pizza. "Stuff that you heat and eat. As long as you have a can opener and an oven timer, you can live like a king."

She shoved a quart of milk, the apples and whatever else came to hand in the refrigerator. Cody watched her, decided she had other, more important qualities and offered her a box of corn flakes. She put those in, as well.

"Takeout's easier," she told him.

"You have to go out for takeout." He swung her around and rained kisses all over her face. A man had to love a woman who put corn flakes in the refrigerator. "You're not going anywhere until Monday morning."

Laughing, she pushed away and dug out a loaf of bread. "I was going to go buy a black silk teddy."

"Oh, yeah?" He grinned, then gripped the baggy waist of her sweats. "For me?"

"It's too late." After slapping his hand away, she tossed the bread in a drawer.

"Let's talk about this." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him. "I like the way you look in black silk. That's probably why I acted like a jealous maniac at Thornway's."

"Jealous?" She let out a peal of laughter. She was sure he was joking - until she turned and saw his face. "Jealous?" she repeated. "Of Mr. Barlow?"

"Don't rub it in."

"I thought you were just being insufferable and insulting."

He winced a little, then lowered his head to bite her neck. "Forget I said it."

"I don't think so," she murmured, even as she shifted to give him more access. "From where I was standing that night you seemed to be vastly entertained by Marci Thornway."

"Give me some credit." He slipped his hands under her sweatshirt to skim them up her sides. "I know a shark when I see one. No matter how pretty the teeth are, they still rip you up. Besides..." His fingers turned in to tease her breasts. "I'm not interested in cotton candy."

He had her backed against the refrigerator and was making her tremble. "As opposed to?"

"Just you, Red." He turned his head to give her a long, soul-stealing kiss. "Just you. Tell me - " he moved his hands down to mold her hips " - have you ever done anything constructive on this counter? Chopped vegetables, canned fruit, made love?"

"On the counter?" Her eyes went wide, then fluttered closed again when he ran his tongue behind her ear. "No. I haven't done any of those things."

He was moving too fast again. In a moment he wouldn't be able to pull back and give her the time and attention he wanted to. With an effort, he stepped back and brought only her hand to his lips. "We'll have to keep that in mind. I bought you something else."

"Something else?" Her breathing was almost level when she glanced around the kitchen. "What, a twenty-pound turkey?"

"No. Actually, I picked it up in San Diego."

She smiled as she took out a carton of eggs she hoped he didn't expect her to deal with. "You bought me something in San Diego? A souvenir?"

"Not exactly. Are we finished here?"

"I certainly hope so."

"Come on, then. I'll show you."

He took her by the hand to pull her out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, where his bag sat open on a chair. Reaching in, he took out a box and handed it to her.

"A present?" She felt foolishly shy as she ran a finger over the top of the box. "That was sweet of you."

"It could be an ashtray that says San Diego Padres."

"It would still be a present." She leaned over to touch her lips to his. "Thanks."

"That's the first time you've done that," he murmured,

"What?"

"Kissed me."

She laughed and would have drawn her hand away, but he reached up to hold it against his cheek. "You h.ave a short memory."

"No." He uncurled her fingers to press his lips to her open palm. "That's the first time you've kissed me first, before I backed you into one of those corners. And you don't even know what I bought you."

"It doesn't matter. I like knowing you were thinking of me."

"Oh, I thought of you." He dipped his head to kiss her lightly, sweetly, and her lips parted in surprise. "I thought of you a lot." He checked himself again because he wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms and show her. She needed space and time and more care than he'd bothered to show her. So instead he grinned and sat on the arm of the chair. "I would have given it to you last night, but you couldn't keep your hands off me."

She gave him an amused look before sitting on the arm beside him. "Better late than never." Then she opened the lid and sat staring and speechless.

She had expected some little token, some funny souvenir a friend might bring another after a quick trip. The gems glittered up at her, pale as water, smooth as satin. She didn't, as many women would have, recognize the glint of diamonds. What she saw were lovely stones that caught the late-afternoon light.

"It's beautiful." The amazement was still on her face when she looked across at him, "Really beautiful. You bought this for me?"

"No, I bought it for Charlie." With a shake of his head, Cody lifted out the necklace and reached over to fasten it around her neck. "Think it'll look good on him?"

"I don't know what to say." She lifted a hand and ran it over the stones. "No one's ever given me anything so lovely."

"I guess I'll have to buy Charlie something else."

With a laugh, she sprang up to go to the mirror and look. "Oh, they are beautiful. They sparkle." Turning, she launched herself into his arms. "Thank you." She kissed him. "Thank you." And again. "Thank you."

"If I'd known it would only take a handful of glitters, I could have arranged this weeks ago."

"Laugh all you want." She pressed her cheek against his. "I really love it."

And I love you, he thought. Before too much longer, she was going to know it. "I want to see them on you," he murmured, and rose with her. With his eyes on hers, he slipped the shirt over her head. He saw the change in her face, and the invitation. He would take what she offered, but this time he would take it carefully.

"You're beautiful, Abra."

Now he saw the new change, the blank astonishment his words had brought to her. He cursed himself for a fool. Had he never bothered to tell her, or to make her believe it?

"I love the way you look in the sunlight. The first time I saw you I watched you in the sunlight."

With an easy tug he loosened the drawstring at her waist so that her pants slithered down over her hips. Now she wore only the necklace, shimmering like water around her throat. But he didn't touch her, not in any of the hot, hungry ways she'd come to expect. He framed her face as though it were made of glass and kissed her as softly as a dream.

Confused, moved to aching, she reached for him. "Come to bed."

"There's time." He kissed her again and again, lingering over it until she swayed. "This time." He peeled off his shirt so that she could feel the solid strength of his chest against her. But passion weakened now where before it had streamed through her like fire. Her muscles trembled, then went lax. Her mind, so clear only moments before, blurred.

He only kissed her, and kissed her and kissed her.

"I don't..." Her head fell back as he deepened the kiss. "I can't..."

"You don't have to do anything. Let me show you." He swept her up, muffling her dazed protest with his lips until he lowered her to the bed.

His gentleness filled her until her limbs were too weighted to move. She would have clasped him to her and given him everything, but he linked his hands with hers and caressed her with his lips alone. Soft, moist, patient. Her mind began to float, then to soar with a pleasure far beyond the physical.

No one had ever treated her as though she were fragile, or delicate, or beautiful. He made love to her now in a way she hadn't known existed. In a way she would never forget. If the night had been flash and fire and the darkest of passions, this was quiet and cool and wonderfully light. She trembled over the first edge, then drifted like a feather in the softest of breezes.

She was exquisite. He'd seen the passion and the strength - felt them - but he hadn't seen, hadn't touched on her fragility or her openness to love. Whatever he had felt before, in the heat of desire, was nothing compared to the intimacy of giving. Her body flowed like a river under his hands, warmed like a flower beneath his lips. When she murmured his name, the sound rippled over him, touching some deep hidden core. It was the only voice he ever wanted to hear.

He murmured to her. She heard him, responded, but she couldn't understand the words. Sensation layered over sensation, wrapping her in a cocoon of pleasure. There was the feel of his hands, the strength of them as they stroked over her skin. There was the taste of his mouth whenever he searched for hers, the warm, drugging taste of it. Over lids too heavy to lift, the sunlight beat so that vision, like her mind, was a red mist. Time spun out, inconsequential. For Abra, years might have passed without her noticing.

She felt the brush of his hair as he roamed over her, caught the scent of his skin as he skimmed over hers. If there were other things in the world, they had stopped being important. If night fell or the sun rose, it hardly mattered. Not as long as he was with her and showing her what there could be to love.

When he slipped inside her, she let out a long sigh of welcome. Still, he moved slowly, slowly, taking her gently up the wave, riding the crest. Trapped in the world he had opened up to her, she rose to meet him, matching rhythms, merging bodies.

Promises were made, though she didn't know it. A bond, solid and firm, was formed.

His own breath grew shallow as he dug for control. He'd thought she'd driven him wild in the night. And she had. Now, in surrender, she had taken him beyond even that. His muscles trembled, then steadied with a sweet, dark ache, and his pulse beat in hammer blows at the back of his neck. He was driven to taste her again. Her breath whispered into his mouth as their lips met. Hers softened, opened, offered.

Then she opened her eyes, her lashes lifting in one long, languid movement. Though she couldn't know it, she had never been more beautiful than at that moment. Though she couldn't know it, from that moment on he was completely and irrevocably hers.

She spoke his name, and they slipped over the top together.