He realized then that all the obstacles between them had disappeared. What was left sent him over the edge, outside of reality. There were a million reasons why anything real between them couldn’t work. His life and her life conflicted in far too many ways. He couldn’t have her. But he could have her tonight, these few weeks—a stolen piece of time.
He took her then, finding his way inside her body, thrusting his cock deep inside the wet heat of her core. She gasped and clung to him, her lips and teeth nipping at his shoulder with delicious results he felt from head to foot.
Driven to see the passion in her face as he made love to her, he leaned back, staring down at her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her mouth swollen from his kisses. Slowly, he teased them both as he pulled out all but the head of his erection. “Constantine,” she pleaded.
A plea that reached deep inside him, demanding a response. He lunged into her then, burying himself to the hilt, pulling back and repeating the action. Her breasts bounced and she covered them with her hands, kneading.
He craved her taste, reveled in her beauty, her touch. Her hands slid from her breasts to his shoulders, his neck. He was pumping and rocking, her legs wrapped around his, her hips cradling his.
“More,” she cried out. “More.” But he wasn’t sure how to fulfill her need, his need. Never in his life had he felt so lost in a woman, so impossibly in need of complete possession. That possession, however, that completeness, somehow lingered out of reach.
Long moments they pumped, together, then stilled, staring at one another, and he saw in her what he felt in himself. They were both confused by the array of emotions, of pleasures rushing through them.
Her hair was wild around her heart-shaped face, her lips parted, waiting for him. “Damn, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his mouth lowering to claim hers, his hands reaching beneath her backside, pulling her tighter against him. He angled her hips as he pumped some more, and she took more…begged for more. Until finally, too soon, not soon enough, she shattered—tense for seconds before her body jerked into release.
He still rode her, watching her, enthralled by the sight of her coming. Holding himself back, he waited until he knew she was completely satisfied. When her body began to ease, then, and only then, did he begin to allow his own final pleasure to consume him. He shattered much as she had, shaking with the intensity, stars before his eyes.
When finally his muscles eased, his release complete, they collapsed together, his head buried in her neck. He was still semi-hard, the massive orgasm he’d spilled inside her nowhere near enough to satisfy him. He didn’t want to let go of her; he thought maybe he’d roll her on top and do that all over again.
The tempting idea was ended by Nicole’s panicky voice. “Oh, my sister. I have to stop her from getting on that plane.”
He leaned up on his elbows. “We’ll stop her.” Reluctantly, he rolled off her and hunted down his towel before handing it to her. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Nicole explained the situation, and Constantine shook his head. “I know he’s your father, Nicole, but—”
Lifting a staying hand, she cut him off. “I know. He doesn’t act as if he is. The man had the nerve to tell Brenda I’m a coward for hiding, and that she shouldn’t be one, too. Criminal law involves criminals, he told her. If she can’t deal with those people without hiding, she doesn’t belong in criminal law.”
He didn’t know what to say to such a blatant insult aimed at Nicole, and from her father to boot. “Your mother? What does she think of all of this? Isn’t she worried?”
“My mother doesn’t put a sentence together my father doesn’t form. My father will convince her this is all melodrama. That he has security if my sister needs it. I just want her away, safe. At least until some of this heat calms.”
He watched as Nicole climbed under the sheet and pulled it to her neck as if she sought the safety of a shield—beyond her mental barriers this time. Her parents’ attitude blew him away. Death might have claimed his family, but they’d all loved him, and he, them. She had no one but her sister, it seemed. Which offered yet another explanation—why she’d run out into that hall without waiting for him.
“I’ll handle this,” he told her, determined to make this go away for her. He reached for the phone and punched Redial, hoping for a signal, and finding one.
“Who are you calling?”
“Your sister,” he said.
Her eyes went wide, but before she could object, Brenda answered. “Nicole! Is that you? Are you okay?”