"Forget Michelle. It's you I want."
You I want...you I want... The words pounded through her heart like a drum roll of anticipation that couldn't be muffled. It was impossible to tear her eyes away from the raw desire in his, impossible to deny her own wanting for him. It surged like a torrent through her bloodstream, screaming for satisfaction this time, needing it with such blind force she couldn't think of anything else. Michelle was forgotten. Her mind was driven into a wild chant—Make it true then. Make it true...
Maybe his mind picked it up or the same refrain was beating through him, demanding action. His mouth crashed down on hers and a hunger for knowledge of each other erupted—an intense, intimate knowledge that recognised no barriers at all. There was a barrage of deeply passionate kisses, a craving for every possible sensation, an urgency that feared frustration and fought against giving it any chance to break into what was happening.
Action...action...action... The tie-belt of her gown wrenched apart, the silk being slid from her shoulders, sleeves pushed down, off, out of the way...hands skimming her curves, clutching them...kisses, trailing down her throat, over the swell of her breasts, his mouth finding her nipples through the thin fabric of her nightie, drawing hotly on them, unbelievably exciting...helping him get rid of his coat, his shirt, her hands greedily exulting in the ripple of his muscles, his naked shoulders, his back, the dark nest of male hair on his chest.
Touching...with a total abandonment of any inhibition. Touching because she wanted to, needed to, making this intimacy with him so real she was giddy with the intense pleasure of it. More kisses... wonderful intoxicating kisses...her pulses pounding, her heartbeat raging, her mind swimming with the awesome knowledge he was removing his trousers, the rest of his clothes, stripping himself naked, wanting flesh to flesh, wild for the same earthy reality of feeling all he could with her.
And the raw power of this new touch of him had her falling apart, a sweet disintegration that begged for the fulfilment he promised with the hard strength he could bring to her. He lifted off her nightie—a fever of impatience now—his body rubbing against hers, letting her feel, making her feel his readiness, and her readiness for the ultimate joining. More than readiness. A compelling yearning to give and take all a man and woman could experience together. It was so strong, so immediate, when he swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed, it was like soaring towards a climax and she was spreading her legs for him even as they landed on the mattress.
No waiting. He came into her with all the urgency she felt, and instinctively she locked her legs around him, rocking, rocking hard, harder, needing to capture every sensation, the deepest essence of this blissful merging. Blindly she clawed his back, arched her hips, intensifying the connection, and he more than met her need, increasing the beat of their primitive dance, driving a savage joy through it, injecting an exultation that peaked again and again and again, penetrating every part of her as she came and kept coming until she was sated with the sheer ecstasy of it and he lay limp inside her.
They collapsed together, drained, breathless, slipping into an aftermath of paralysed silence, lying side by side, still touching... but the time of mindless union was over.
Gina felt stunned on many levels. Sexually, she had never experienced anything like this. And it was with Alex King. Alex King! Who was stretched out beside her, as naked as she was, and probably equally stunned by this sudden intimate development. Yes, the desire had been there— mutual desire—but neither of them had planned this encounter in the middle of the night, nor such an explosive outcome to it.
But it was done now. They couldn't take it back. And in all honesty, given the choice, Gina knew she wouldn't have it any different. If this turned out to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, then it was certainly worth having. No regrets on that score. So strange— even loving Angelo had not brought this intense all-invasive pleasure, nor such a frenzy of passion.
Alex King...
Alex...
Her mind lingered over his name, silently lilting it as though it had to contain some secret magic. She almost spoke it out loud, wanting to taste the sound of it in her mouth, revelling in it as she had revelled in the taste of him.
Did he have this sense of wonder over how it had been? Or was he now remembering Michelle?
Forget Michelle!
How fiercely he had spoken those words!
And she had forgotten. In the heat of their coming together, any thought of the other woman had been burned away. What's more, she didn't feel guilty about what had happened. Alex wasn't married to Michelle Banks. Though he was cheating on her, Gina sternly reminded herself.
Was he regretting it? Feeling guilty?
How much did this intimate sharing with her tonight mean to him?
Had it just been a surge of lust that was now exhausted? Would he go back to Michelle, having purged the desire that had disrupted his commitment to her?
Gina's heart fluttered anxiously. Lying here in the darkness with him, remembering their tumultuous mating, her body still so vibrantly alive from being aroused to heights she'd never known...it just didn't feel right for it to have no meaning beyond this one night.
"Gina..."
Her name, coming deeply from his throat, sounded like a velvet purr, so soft and sensual it sent tingles all over her skin. His hand slid over hers, interlacing their fingers, gripping possessively. Her pulse instantly leapt with wanton excitement. He could not intend to part from her. Not yet.
"I won't say I'm sorry this time. I'm not sorry at all," he continued, slowly lifting her hand to his mouth and grazing his lips over it as though savouring the femininity of its shape and texture, or paying some homage to what she had given him as a woman. "Tell me you're not sorry either, Gina," he murmured gruffly.
"I'm not sorry, Alex," she answered truthfully, the hope for more from him galloping through her heart.
He sighed, as though venting deep relief. "At least that's all right then.
Problem is...I didn't use protection. How does that sit with you?"
It almost blew her mind that she hadn't thought of it herself. There hadn't been any reason for her to be using any means of contraception, so she wasn't. Even nursing a secret desire for Alex King hadn't spurred her to such a practicality because she hadn't really believed anything would come of the attraction. Certainly not this... here... tonight!
Frantically she counted up the days since her last period. Having a regular cycle made it relatively easy to work out her safe times. It was over three weeks, which meant she was past the fertile span. Relief whooshed through her.
"It's okay. No risk," she assured him feelingly.
"You're not on the pill," he deduced from her long hesitation. "No. I never have been. And I wasn't expecting..."
"I wasn't, either." He squeezed her hand, reinforcing the mutuality of their acting without any premeditation. "But I can't say I haven't been thinking of you, wanting to know..." Another sigh. "Earlier tonight..."
"I wanted you, too," she acknowledged quickly, seeing no reason to let him take responsibility for a desire she shared. There was no denying how much she'd craved knowing what it might be like with him.
He lowered her hand, released it, then hitched himself up on his side to look directly at her. She braved meeting his gaze, knowing she couldn't hide from this situation and needing to see what was on his mind. It was too dark to read his expression with any accuracy but his face didn't seem to reflect concern. More a gentle bemusement.
"So here we are," he murmured, as though it were some amazing trick of fate that he hadn't quite come to terms with, although it was certainly to his liking. The burr of pleasure in his voice was unmistakable.
As much as Gina wanted to hug his pleasure to her and blot out everything else, her mind circled his words—here we are—and latched onto the big tormenting question... Where was Michelle?
Wasn't he thinking of his fiancée at all?
The temptation to keep it that way battled with the urge to ask. Earlier this evening he'd declared kissing her wasn't fair. Had fairness now lost all meaning in the face of what they'd felt together?
His gaze travelled slowly over her nakedness and his hand followed the same path, lightly tracing and caressing her soft curves, making her skin tingle again— too seductive a distraction to keep fretting about Michelle Banks.
"You are addictively beautiful...every part of you lushly perfect," he murmured, and although Gina knew it wasn't true, it was so sweet to hear, coming from him, she wasn't about to point out any faults. Besides, the way he touched her was making her feel voluptuously beautiful, and it was wonderful to bask in the sense of being absolutely desirable—here and now, when she most wanted to be with this man.
It gave her the courage to explore his magnificent maleness with far more sensual pleasure this time since there was no longer the urgency that had driven both of them earlier. To her mind he really was perfection and she savoured the freedom to touch and exulted in the positive responses that revealed he was still excited by her and every contact she made delighted him.
It wasn't just sex, she thought. They were making love to each other, and her whole being was gradually caught up in a world circumscribed by sheer sensation—the flow and ebb of it, erotic ripples, huge waves of pleasure, exquisite peaks—nothing forbidden nor unwelcome because it was all part of an ever-deepening journey of intimacy that drew them into doing whatever took their fancy long into the night.
No words were spoken. None seemed quite right. It seemed there was a continual flow of communication on a far more elemental, instinctive level... something that words might spoil because they couldn't really express this kind of sharing. Better simply to feel and keep going with the feeling.
It was, for Gina, an entrancing revelation of how it could be with both partners so physically enthralled with each other—a potent mixture of awe and tenderness and passion and sensuality. She was mostly conscious of an amazed joy in the intense pleasure of their sexual harmony, and how incredible it was that it could go on and on. Satiation came slowly, accompanied by a contented languor that soothed them into sleep.
An end or a beginning?
Neither of them even thought of asking that question. Only time would resolve it.