Temptation’s Edge (37 page)

“Connor? What are you saying?”

He looked down at her blue eyes pooled with tears. Had he scared her? He hadn’t meant to. He’d only meant to assure her that he was
in
this. He’d only meant to tell her what he had to before he fucking exploded.

He smoothed a tear from her cheek with his thumb, leaned in to lay a gentle kiss on her ruby-red lips, pulled back. He caught her gaze with his, needing her to see his face, needing her to believe him. “I’m saying I love you.” She stared at him, her blue eyes unblinking, so he went on, “
This
is where I’ve lost all control. Saying this to you, feeling it, is one of the damn scariest things I’ve ever done. But I have to tell you. I love you.”

A small sob escaped her, and she buried her face in her hands.

“Mischa?”

What did this mean? He’d opened his heart to her. He’d thought she felt the same. Was he wrong?

He took her face in his hands once more, forcing her to face him.

“Mischa, what is it?”

“Just that…I love you, too.”

She was laughing then, and he thought he’d have a heart attack simply from being so damn happy and relieved.

He pulled her in for a kiss, tasting her tears as he pressed his lips to hers. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet as his Mischa.

His
.

Finally.

He pulled back. “God damn it, woman. Do you know what you did to me just then? Nearly gave me a stroke.”

She smiled through her tears. “I’m sure you’ll let me make it up to you.”

“Damn right.”

“Still the boss, Connor? Even now?”

“Always, love.”

“We may have to work on that.”

“We’ll be a work in progress.”

“Meanwhile, why don’t you work on kissing me again?” she demanded.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, loving the scent of the flowers in her hair, the delicate silk of her dress, and even more, the woman beneath it. He kissed her hard, opening her lips, diving into her sweet mouth. He was going hard; he couldn’t help it. He wanted her. More than he ever had. Part of it was her lush breasts crushed up against him, the feel of her softly curved body in his arms, the eagerness of her mouth. But a big part of it was that he needed to be closer to her than being in public, than wearing clothes, would allow.

He pulled away again, growled in her ear, “I can’t wait to get you someplace where I can get my hands on you.”

She kissed his neck, a trail of fiery kisses that had him groaning.

“I can’t wait, either,” she whispered against his skin. “But we’re at our friends’ wedding. I think we’d better get back in there before we do something inexcusable.”

He groaned. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I’ll do my best to make that up to you later, too.”

She was grinning, her gorgeous mouth looking well kissed, which pleased him. Hell,
she
pleased him, in every way.

He swept a hand over her cheek. He couldn’t help it; he had to touch her.

“I love you, Mischa.”

“And I love you.”

She felt as if her heart was bursting at the seams, but in the best possible way. It was an amazing thing, how wonderful it felt to tell him. To hear it from him. To believe it, and to believe
in
it. How knowing he loved her and voicing her own feelings drained so much of the fear and doubt away.

He helped her to her feet, kissed her again, lightly this time, before pulling back and smiling at her.

“This is the best wedding I’ve ever been to,” he told her.

“Wait until you taste the cake,” she teased.

“Ah, what I’ve already had is far sweeter.”

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his mouth. “I love it when you’re corny.”

He reached behind her and smacked her bottom. “Better get used to it.”

“It may take some effort, but I’ll try.”

He held her, both hands on her shoulders, bending a little to look into her face. “I mean that. You had better get used to it. And I can’t believe this is me saying it. But that’s how it’s going to be.”

“Well, then. Yes, sir.”

His face broke into a grin. “Sassy wench.”

She nodded. “That’s how it’s going to be, too.”

He shook his head at her. “Back to the wedding with you.”

She laughed, took his hand and together they moved back toward the light and the music and the sound of laughter.

How was it possible that this pair of optimists was
them
? But love was a strange thing, she realized. A force more powerful than their fears, the skewed images they each had of themselves. Love had changed them both. Transformed them into something better than they’d been before. She felt the strength of it flow through her, simply from having her hand in Connor’s. From knowing he loved her. From the strange certainty that somehow, it was going to be okay.

As he spun her back onto the dance floor she laughed, joy like some tangible element in the air. As they danced she watched Dylan and Alec, their heads together, intimate even in this crowd of people. She saw Kara and Dante holding each other close, their eyes closed, as if the world around them had ceased to exist. Maybe it had, for them. And for the first time, she understood what it meant. What it felt like.

“Connor.”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“I’m still scared.”

“Sure, so am I. I’m man enough to admit it.”

“But that doesn’t mean I have to run away anymore.”

His hands grasped her waist so tight she gasped. “I won’t let you.”

She leaned her head against his broad chest, breathed in the scent of him. “Don’t ever let me, Connor.”

He didn’t say another word, just held her close, swaying with her to the music. And it was exactly what she needed.
He
was all she needed. She was so glad she’d finally figured it out.

They left the wedding together after seeing the bride and groom off on their honeymoon, which was just as well. Mischa wasn’t ready to explain things to Dylan. She just wanted to enjoy Connor for a while, to have him to herself.

It was raining as they rode in the taxi back to his place, the droplets turning the city into a watercolor of silvery moonlight, golden streetlights, everything in metallic tones. They were quiet, holding hands, glancing at each other, neither daring to do or say more until they could be alone at last.

When they reached his apartment it was dark other than the streetlights shining through the rice paper shades as he closed the door behind them. He hadn’t let go of her waist since the moment he’d helped her from the cab.

“Connor? When are you going to kiss me?” she asked.

“In about two seconds, darlin’ girl. I wanted to wait until I truly had you alone.”

“Why is that?”

“Because as soon as I kiss you, things are going to get very naked very fast.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.”

She sighed as he undressed her, more carefully than he usually did, yet she felt the carefully restrained passion in every movement of his hands, in the panting of his breath even before he’d really touched her. It excited her, to think of him being so turned on just ridding her of her clothes, even after all the things they’d already done together. And she was just as excited by it, his careful stripping of her body. From simply knowing how he held himself back. That he had to.

“Come on, Connor,” she begged, needing to feel his bare flesh under her hands.

He took a small step back, and in the moonlight and the filtered light from the street below, she watched him. Watched as he took off his jacket, his tie, then his shirt, as the massive muscles of his shoulders and chest came into view. She wanted, as she had before, to trace her fingertips over the outline of his tattoos, to feel the ink in his skin, especially the ink she’d put there herself.

Marking him…

Yes.

Rather than waiting for him to set the pace, to make the first moves, as she normally did in deference to their roles as dominant and submissive, she reached out, stroked her fingertips over his biceps. Took his hand with hers, turning it over so she could trace the words in Gaelic on his inner forearm: “Nothing can get into a closed fist.” She knew it was his pledge to himself to be a better man than he thought he could be. He already was.

She moved her fingertips to his chest, drew a long, slow line downward, over his tightly muscled abs. Delighted in the shiver that went through him. She looked up at his face as she unbuttoned his slacks, reached in and took his hardening cock in her hand. Loved the quiet moan that slipped from him as she wrapped her hand around the heavy shaft.

“Ah, you’re killing me, my girl.”

“Not quite yet…”

She smiled at him as she sank to her knees. Grinned when he groaned aloud. Then she slipped his slacks down and took him into her mouth. Just the tip at first, swirling her tongue around the head of his cock. She wrapped her hands around the back of his thighs, felt him tense when she slid her mouth down the length of him. She sucked him hard, taking him deep into her throat, and he buried his hands in her hair. She could no longer argue the part of her that loved serving him in this way. Loved the wood floor hard under her knees. The knowledge that even as
she served him, the power was
hers
. It was a heady idea, that and the sweet taste of his flesh in her mouth.

“I’ll come if we don’t stop, love,” Connor warned through gritted teeth.

She took him deeper, pulling him in with both hands on his buttocks.

He laughed, told her in a throaty tone, “Oh no you don’t.”

Before she had a moment to think about it he knelt on the floor, lifting her, spreading her thighs and wrapping her legs around his body. She knew he could feel how wet she was for him, her sex open against his stomach.

He shifted her, and his cock impaled her in one sharp thrust.

“Ah, Connor!”

They began to move together, his lips feathering kisses over her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder. Their arching hips were like liquid at first, a slow, undulating motion. Pleasure seared her, burning in her veins like wildfire—as wild as the emotion she could no longer control, and no longer wanted to.

“Connor…I love you,” she panted.

“Love you, darlin’ girl.”

He stopped for a moment, took her face in his hands, looked into her eyes. “I do. I never thought I’d mean it this much.”

She smiled at him, happiness suffusing her, a lovely, seeping warmth unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and they held still for a while, silent, their bodies joined, simply
feeling
each other while thunder rumbled outside, while sensation thrummed through their bodies.

After a while he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it, tiny, fleeting kisses that set her on fire all over again. She kissed his muscled shoulder, the side of his neck, and they began to move
once more, his cock pressing into her, gently at first, then a harder, driving rhythm. The soft, tender need grew, spiraled, until they’d reached that primal place that had first brought them together. That primal rhythm their bodies knew, and needed from each other.

Thrusting hips to thrusting hips, their bodies grew slick with sweat as they held on tight. They were both panting, grinding into each other, the need as much about emotion as it was physical desire.

The pleasure built inside her, coiling tight. Her nails raked the back of his neck, his fingers dug deep into the flesh of her hips, his teeth sank into her throat. But it was
them
, and the pain only carried them higher, faster.

He drove into her, over and over and over again. It seemed as if she was poised on that keen edge forever, wanting to draw it out before she came. She bit her lip as the first wave edged closer, fought it as hard as she could. But it was too much: his beautiful cock surging deep, her mound grinding against him, the scent of him, his flesh under her hands. Her climax poured through her like the rain coming down outside. Like thunder, rumbling through her, making her shiver all over. She felt how her sex grasped him, drew him deeper. She trembled in his arms, coming and coming, her head spinning. Out of control. But it no longer mattered…

“Mischa, I’m going to come.”

“Yes,” she murmured.

“No condom. Hang on.”

He pulled out of her, but still held her as tight, his cock pressed against her cleft. He pumped his hips, and understanding, she arched into him.

“Mischa…ah…”

His hips jerked as he came, hot against her skin. And as he came he kissed her, hard, his hands holding her face, his tongue surging into her mouth.

When he stilled against her he kept kissing her, and it was so lovely and sweet, keeping desire flowing between them. Keeping them connected.

They were soaked in sweat, in his come, in hers. Nothing mattered except that they were together. That he was kissing her and kissing her.

Finally he pulled back.

“Shall we clean up and get into bed?” he asked, his voice low as he nuzzled her ear.

“Mmm…only if you’ll kiss me some more once we get there.”

“That I can do. Come on, then.”

He stood, taking her with him, carrying her through the apartment and into the bathroom.