Charmed
Page 45
She wanted to show him. She would show him.
Her hands slid down him, over strong shoulders, the hard chest. She murmured in approval as she traced fingertips over his rib cage and down to the flat plane of his stomach.
He shook his head to try to clear it. He had expected to seduce her here, yet he was being seduced. The delicate hands flowing over his slick skin were shooting arrows of painful need through his system.
"Wait." His hands groped for hers, held them firm. He knew that if she touched him now he would never be able to hold back. "Let me…"
"No." With the new knowledge brimming inside, her mouth seared over his and conquered. "Let me."
Her fingers closed around him, sliding, stroking, squeezing lightly, while his breath sounded harshly in her ear. A fresh flash of triumph exploded inside her as she felt his quick, helpless shudder. Then greed, to have him, all of him, deeply inside her.
"Ana." He felt the last wisps of reality fading. "Ana, I can't—"
"You want me." Delirious with power, she threw her head back. Her eyes were hot with challenge. "Then take me. Now."
She looked like a goddess newly risen from the sea. Wet cables of hair slicked like dark gold over her shoulder. Her skin glowed, shimmered with water. In her eyes were secrets, dark mysteries no man would ever unlock.
She was glorious. She was magnificent. And she was his.
"Hold on to me." Bracing her against the wall, he lifted her hips with his hands. "Hold on to me."
She locked her arms around him, keeping her eyes open. He took her where they stood, plunging into her as the water showered over them. Gasping out his name, she let her head fall back. Through the rising mists, she saw their reflections—a wonderful tangle of limbs that made it impossible to see where he left off and she began.
On a moan of inexpressible pleasure, she dropped her head to his shoulder. She was lost. Lost. Thank God for it. "I love you." She had no idea if the words were in her head or had come through her lips. But she said them again and again until her body convulsed.
He emptied himself into her, then could only stand weakly against the wall as the strength ran out of him. His heart was still roaring in his ears as he closed his hands over her shoulders.
"Tell me now."
Her lips were curved, but she swayed a little and stared up at him through clouded eyes. "Tell you what?"
His fingers tightened, making her eyes clear. "That you love me. Tell me now."
"I… Don't you think we should dry off? We've been in the water quite a while."
With an impatient jerk, he switched off the taps. "I want to look at you when you say it, and have at least some of my wits about me. We're going to stay right here until I hear you say it again."
She hesitated. He could have no idea that he was forcing her to take the next step toward having him—or losing him. Destiny, she thought, and choices. It was time she made hers. "I love you. I wouldn't be here with you, couldn't be here, if I didn't."
His eyes were very dark, very intense. Slowly his grip lightened, his face relaxed. "I feel as though I've waited years to hear you say that."
She brushed the wet hair away from his brow. "You only had to ask."
He caught her hands in his. "You don't." Because she was beginning to shiver, he drew her out of the stall to wrap her in a towel. He caught it close around her, then wrapped his arms tight for more warmth. "Anastasia." Tenderness swelled inside him as he touched his lips to her hair, her cheek, her mouth. "You don't have to ask. I love you. You brought something I thought I'd never have again, never want again, back into my life."
On a broken sigh, she pressed her face to his chest. This was real, she thought. This was hers. She would find a way to keep it. "You're everything I've ever wanted. Don't stop loving me, Boone. Don't stop."
"I couldn't." He drew her away. "Don't cry."
"I don't." The tears shimmered, but didn't spill over. "I don't cry."
Anastasia sheds no tears, but she'll shed them for you.
Sebastian's words rang uncomfortably in Boone's head. Resolutely he blocked them out. It was ridiculous. He'd do nothing to hurt her. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. A steamy bathroom was no place for the proposal he wanted to make. And there were things he needed to tell her first.
"Let's get you another shirt. We need to talk."
She was much too happy to pay any heed to the curl of uneasiness. She laughed when he took her back to the bedroom and tugged another of his shirts over her head. Dreamily she poured two more glasses of wine while he pulled on a pair of jeans.
"Will you come with me?" He held out a hand, and she took it willingly.
"Where are we going?"
"I want to show you something." He took her down the shadowy hall, into his office. Delighted, Ana turned a circle.
"This is where you work."
There were wide, uncurtained windows framed with curving cherrywood. A couple of worn, faded scatter rugs had been tossed on the hardwood floor. Starshine sprinkled through the twin skylights. An industrious-looking computer, reams of paper and shelves of books announced that this was a workplace. But he'd added charm with framed illustrations, a collection of dragons and knights that intrigued her. The winged faery he'd bought from Morgana had a prominent place on a high, carved stool.
"You need some plants," she decided instantly, thinking of the narcissus and daffodils she was forcing in her greenhouse. "I imagine you spend hours in this room every day." She glanced down at the empty ashtray beside his machine.
Following her gaze, he frowned. Odd, he thought, he hadn't had a cigarette in days—had forgotten about them completely. He'd have to congratulate himself later.
"Sometimes I watch out the window when you're in your garden. It makes it difficult to concentrate."
She laughed and sat on the corner of his desk. "We'll get you some shades."
"Not a chance." He smiled, but his hands went nervously to his pockets. "Ana, I need to tell you about Alice."
"Boone." Compassion had her rising again to reach out. "I understand. I know it's painful. There's no need to explain anything to me"
"There is for me." With her hand in his, he turned to gesture at a sketch on the wall. A lovely young girl was kneeling by a stream, dipping a golden pail into the silver water. "She drew that, before Jessie was born. Gave it to me for our first anniversary."
Her hands slid down him, over strong shoulders, the hard chest. She murmured in approval as she traced fingertips over his rib cage and down to the flat plane of his stomach.
He shook his head to try to clear it. He had expected to seduce her here, yet he was being seduced. The delicate hands flowing over his slick skin were shooting arrows of painful need through his system.
"Wait." His hands groped for hers, held them firm. He knew that if she touched him now he would never be able to hold back. "Let me…"
"No." With the new knowledge brimming inside, her mouth seared over his and conquered. "Let me."
Her fingers closed around him, sliding, stroking, squeezing lightly, while his breath sounded harshly in her ear. A fresh flash of triumph exploded inside her as she felt his quick, helpless shudder. Then greed, to have him, all of him, deeply inside her.
"Ana." He felt the last wisps of reality fading. "Ana, I can't—"
"You want me." Delirious with power, she threw her head back. Her eyes were hot with challenge. "Then take me. Now."
She looked like a goddess newly risen from the sea. Wet cables of hair slicked like dark gold over her shoulder. Her skin glowed, shimmered with water. In her eyes were secrets, dark mysteries no man would ever unlock.
She was glorious. She was magnificent. And she was his.
"Hold on to me." Bracing her against the wall, he lifted her hips with his hands. "Hold on to me."
She locked her arms around him, keeping her eyes open. He took her where they stood, plunging into her as the water showered over them. Gasping out his name, she let her head fall back. Through the rising mists, she saw their reflections—a wonderful tangle of limbs that made it impossible to see where he left off and she began.
On a moan of inexpressible pleasure, she dropped her head to his shoulder. She was lost. Lost. Thank God for it. "I love you." She had no idea if the words were in her head or had come through her lips. But she said them again and again until her body convulsed.
He emptied himself into her, then could only stand weakly against the wall as the strength ran out of him. His heart was still roaring in his ears as he closed his hands over her shoulders.
"Tell me now."
Her lips were curved, but she swayed a little and stared up at him through clouded eyes. "Tell you what?"
His fingers tightened, making her eyes clear. "That you love me. Tell me now."
"I… Don't you think we should dry off? We've been in the water quite a while."
With an impatient jerk, he switched off the taps. "I want to look at you when you say it, and have at least some of my wits about me. We're going to stay right here until I hear you say it again."
She hesitated. He could have no idea that he was forcing her to take the next step toward having him—or losing him. Destiny, she thought, and choices. It was time she made hers. "I love you. I wouldn't be here with you, couldn't be here, if I didn't."
His eyes were very dark, very intense. Slowly his grip lightened, his face relaxed. "I feel as though I've waited years to hear you say that."
She brushed the wet hair away from his brow. "You only had to ask."
He caught her hands in his. "You don't." Because she was beginning to shiver, he drew her out of the stall to wrap her in a towel. He caught it close around her, then wrapped his arms tight for more warmth. "Anastasia." Tenderness swelled inside him as he touched his lips to her hair, her cheek, her mouth. "You don't have to ask. I love you. You brought something I thought I'd never have again, never want again, back into my life."
On a broken sigh, she pressed her face to his chest. This was real, she thought. This was hers. She would find a way to keep it. "You're everything I've ever wanted. Don't stop loving me, Boone. Don't stop."
"I couldn't." He drew her away. "Don't cry."
"I don't." The tears shimmered, but didn't spill over. "I don't cry."
Anastasia sheds no tears, but she'll shed them for you.
Sebastian's words rang uncomfortably in Boone's head. Resolutely he blocked them out. It was ridiculous. He'd do nothing to hurt her. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. A steamy bathroom was no place for the proposal he wanted to make. And there were things he needed to tell her first.
"Let's get you another shirt. We need to talk."
She was much too happy to pay any heed to the curl of uneasiness. She laughed when he took her back to the bedroom and tugged another of his shirts over her head. Dreamily she poured two more glasses of wine while he pulled on a pair of jeans.
"Will you come with me?" He held out a hand, and she took it willingly.
"Where are we going?"
"I want to show you something." He took her down the shadowy hall, into his office. Delighted, Ana turned a circle.
"This is where you work."
There were wide, uncurtained windows framed with curving cherrywood. A couple of worn, faded scatter rugs had been tossed on the hardwood floor. Starshine sprinkled through the twin skylights. An industrious-looking computer, reams of paper and shelves of books announced that this was a workplace. But he'd added charm with framed illustrations, a collection of dragons and knights that intrigued her. The winged faery he'd bought from Morgana had a prominent place on a high, carved stool.
"You need some plants," she decided instantly, thinking of the narcissus and daffodils she was forcing in her greenhouse. "I imagine you spend hours in this room every day." She glanced down at the empty ashtray beside his machine.
Following her gaze, he frowned. Odd, he thought, he hadn't had a cigarette in days—had forgotten about them completely. He'd have to congratulate himself later.
"Sometimes I watch out the window when you're in your garden. It makes it difficult to concentrate."
She laughed and sat on the corner of his desk. "We'll get you some shades."
"Not a chance." He smiled, but his hands went nervously to his pockets. "Ana, I need to tell you about Alice."
"Boone." Compassion had her rising again to reach out. "I understand. I know it's painful. There's no need to explain anything to me"
"There is for me." With her hand in his, he turned to gesture at a sketch on the wall. A lovely young girl was kneeling by a stream, dipping a golden pail into the silver water. "She drew that, before Jessie was born. Gave it to me for our first anniversary."
