"This makes two times you've slugged me, baby. Don't even think about trying for three."
"Let go!" She struggled against him, not hard enough to break his hold but furious enough to make him think it might be easier to try and hang onto a rattlesnake. Her foot shot out and connected with his shin. It wasn't much of a blow but it put him off balance, just enough so that his hold loosened. She got one hand free, doubled it into a fist and drove it into his solar plexus.
"Damn you, Beckman," he gasped.
She pulled back her arm and aimed at him again but he was ready for her. He clamped his arms around her and lifted her from the floor, spinning around as he did so that their positions were reversed and she was pinned against the counter by the weight of his body.
"Bitch," he snarled, "crazy bitch!"
"Bastard," she panted, "miserable, arrogant bast—"
Damn her to hell! There was only one way to keep her quiet and Conor took it. He kissed her, and it was like that night in Paris all over again.
As soon as his mouth found hers, the world ceased to exist.
Miranda's arms wound around his neck.
"Conor," she whispered, "oh God, Conor..."
He was trembling with desire and with a far stronger emotion but there was no time to think, to do anything but bury himself inside her. It was what she wanted, too. Her hands were at his shorts, tugging them down his legs as he stripped away her pants. He tried to pull her shirt over her head but as simple as the act should have been, it defied him. With a strangled oath, he seized the neckline and ripped the shirt to the hem.
And all the time, the kiss went on and on, as if their very existence depended on their lips never parting.
Miranda whispered his name and he answered her in kind, murmuring hers as if it were a mantra that had been his from the first time he'd held her in his arms.
He told himself to take control, slow down and prolong the ecstasy of what lay ahead but she was touching him, her hands moving over him, cupping him, exploring his erection, testing the power of it. He groaned and lifted her onto the counter, pressed his mouth to her throat, then bent his head until her breast was against his lips. She cried out as he drew her hardened nipple into his mouth. Her hands tunneled through his hair; she dragged his face up to hers and kissed him, her mouth open and hot on his.
"Now," she sobbed, "Conor, now, please."
"Yes," he said, "yes, baby, yes."
He moved between her thighs, opening her to him. His thumb slid over the engorged bud of her clitoris; his fingers sank into her slick heat. She cried out and he knew he couldn't hold back, that he had to have her now. Her legs closed around his waist as he moved against her and she shuddered at the touch of his swollen penis against that most sensitive part of her body.
"Miranda," he whispered, and he moved, entering her on one long, heart-stopping thrust, feeling the contractions begin deep within her as he did.
"Conor? Conor, oh Conor..."
She was breathless, sobbing his name, rocking against him as she came and while she was still wild in his arms, he lifted her from the counter, backed her against the wall and drove into her, again and again and again until he felt the uncontrollable spasms of her climax begin once more. Then, at last, his head fell back and he went with her into the stars that exploded across the blackness of the sky.
* * *
Somehow, a long time later, they found themselves in the bedroom.
The bed was wide and soft, but nothing was as soft as the feel of Miranda in his arms.
"Miranda," he whispered, holding her against his thudding heart, "my God, Miranda."
"Oh yes," she breathed, and he knew she was smiling, just as he was.
He rolled to his side, his arm still thrown across her, his hand lightly cupping the gentle rise of her breast. Her face, bare of makeup, was the loveliest he'd ever seen.
"My beautiful Miranda," he murmured, and her lips, still softly swollen from his kisses, turned up in a tender smile.
"That was," she said, "it was..."
His heart clenched as he remembered the ugly words she'd used to describe this act the last time.
"It was wonderful," she sighed. "I've never—I've never felt—"