But now there was a different reality. And he thought they both deserved the luxury of enjoying this moment in all its beauty.
She was real, not some mythical apparition, and her hair was dark and rich and like velvet where it touched his naked flesh. Her eyes were a more magnificent blue, and the way she moved against him was raw and carnal, but still as elegant as a whisper of silk. The mere touch of her fingers as she stroked his face was arousing; the pressure of her lips against his shoulder awoke a storm of fire that shot through him, flesh and blood and bone.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, tilting her head so that she was looking up at him again, and he smiled slowly.
“I think this is witchcraft,” he told her.
“What?”
“Magic,” he said, and kissed her, feeling her lips part beneath his and sensing her hunger in the way her mouth moved, welcoming his.
The kiss grew fevered, then he broke it off, gasping for air, and slid his hands down her back, along her arms, to her spine again, pressing her closer and closer to him. He needed to taste her flesh, and he let his lips and tongue taste her throat, her breasts. He felt the catch in her breath, felt the way she seemed to melt against him, and then he gasped at the way she touched him in return, every touch of her fingertips...lips...tongue more erotic than the last.
He wasn’t sure how they reached the bed, but somehow they were there, and he lifted her, kissing her all the while and reveling in her answering hunger, her passion.
In the delirium he somehow made himself pause; he hadn’t come prepared. She understood his hesitation and smiled, and whispered softly that she was on birth control.
Then they were together again, on his bed, naked and entwined, touching each other, seeking each other’s most sensuous secrets. Their bodies twisted and turned; they couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. Urgency filled him, the need to touch her, to give to her, to be certain that she felt the same blaze that seemed to rule his every movement. His mouth teased down her abdomen to her inner thighs. She was liquid beneath him, arching, writhing, whispering, though he couldn’t make out the words. When he rose and straddled her at last, she wound her legs around him, and he thrust into her slowly, reveling in the way her tight flesh gloved his sex and in the look in her eyes as he leaned low against her, caught her lips in a kiss and began to move.
They made love....
And made love and made love.
Finally they lay together, exhausted, spent, damp, still striving for breath and feeling the slowing thunder of their hearts.
She curled against him. “You were right,” she whispered. “Magic.”
He stroked her hair and lay there savoring the moment, just being there with her, lying naked together.
He turned to speak.
She was sleeping. Sweetly, at peace, her body still entwined with his.
He closed his own eyes and found the mercy of sleep himself.
*
Devin could hear the shower running when she woke up and realized Rocky was in there, getting ready to face the day.
She smiled, thinking she could just slip in with him....
But a glance at the bedside clock told her it was already noon. Half a day gone—and he undoubtedly had things he needed to do. If she joined him, with the steam and the soap and...
One day, she thought, she would be accustomed to him in the way all lovers inevitably became accustomed to each other. They might take showers just to get clean. They might see each other naked or dressing and not instantly feel the urgent need for sex....
One day?
Last night—or rather, early this morning—she’d walked in on the man and thrown herself at him. That didn’t mean there would be a next time or that they would ever be longtime lovers or spend enough time together to stop feeling the urgency of last night.
Would he think that she was desperate, pressuring him?
Did he do this often?
Had she ever done anything remotely like this before? No!
Suddenly she didn’t want to face him. Not here, not naked, not in his bed.
She hopped up quickly and retrieved her nightshirt, slipped it back on and hurried to the door.
Then she realized that, given the intruder last night, he would worry if she simply disappeared, so she scribbled a note and left it on the bed. It read simply “Thanks. Gone to get dressed for the day.”
She heard him turn off the water and she ran to the door, threw it open and looked out into the hall. Luckily, none of the other agents was out there. There was a housekeeper with her cart moving down the hall.
She stopped Devin just outside her door. “Miss?”
“Yes?” Devin panicked and nearly snapped out the word.
“Will you have service today?” the woman asked.
Devin smiled. “Yes, I’m sorry. Later today, I think,” she said. And then she realized that in her mad “I’m going to play out a fantasy” mode, she hadn’t brought a room key.
She looked back at the maid. “Can you open my room for me, please?” she asked.