Moonlight bathed Andre’s bedroom in an eerie, blue-white light when Juliana pulled open the unlocked door at the other end of the passageway. She blew out the candle and placed it on a small side table near the entrance, then stood with her back to the wall, her heart pounding so that she could barely breathe. Across the room she could see the vast bed with its satin coverlet askew, as if the bed’s occupant had tossed and turned restlessly until he threw it impatiently aside. As if he couldn’t sleep any more than she could. As if his memories of her matched hers of him...and one magical night.
Andre lay beneath a single sheet. At first she thought he was asleep—he lay so still and motionless. Then he moved so swiftly she was shocked. And when the sheet was wrenched aside she saw he was naked. A panic reflex forced her to turn toward the passageway, fumbling to move the heavy tapestry aside. She had just managed to get it open when Andre was behind her.
His arms reached around and pulled her back, then plastered her against the wall, and she could feel him hard and male everywhere his naked body touched hers. “No,” he breathed against her ear. But it wasn’t a demand. It was a plea. “No, Juliana. Do not run.” His hands moved to her shoulders...down, down, until he touched her bare arms. She shivered. And knew she was lost when his lips found the sensitive place behind her ear. “Please,” he whispered.
Eleven years ago this man had taught her everything she knew of love. Everything she knew of passion. And everything she knew of despair. But life was too short—how tragically short she knew now, and she no longer cared about the despair. Not even if he broke her heart again as he’d done so long ago. She would risk that...and so much more.
With a wild cry she twisted lithely in his arms, sliding her arms around his waist, her hands brushing against corded steel muscles. Then he was kissing her, desire blazing to life between them the way it always had. The way it always would. Eleven years had taught her that no other man could rouse her passion for one simple reason—no other man was Andre.
His arms were iron bands encircling her as he plundered her mouth. He whispered her name in between kisses that sapped the strength from her knees and made her tremble like a leaf. As if her name was the most precious thing in the world to him. As if she was. Her body responded to the flames he ignited with his words, his touch, his taste, and her womanhood throbbed...then melted at the knowledge of what was to come. So long. It had been so long since she’d let herself respond to a man—not just her body, but her mind—and she was momentarily confused. Then afraid. And then no longer afraid.
“Andre.” Just one word, but all her yearning was embodied in it. All the pent-up longing to know again the physical release only he could give her. All the aching need only he could arouse...and assuage. And even more, the desire for his love her wounded heart cried out for. The devastating wound created by him. The wound no one could heal...except him.
The world shifted dizzyingly as he released her lips then caught her behind her knees and swung her into his arms. She curled trustingly in his embrace; one hand clasping his neck, feeling the controlled power there as he carried her across the room to his bed and sat her gently on the edge.
Her eyes widened and she couldn’t help the small sound of panic when he drew back from her momentarily and she saw him naked in the moonlight, his body very hard. Very male. His erection rose from its thatch of golden-brown hair and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Somehow she’d forgotten how very big he was...in every way.
He sat next to her and drew her into his arms, his vivid green eyes alight with passion held firmly in an iron grip. “No need to be afraid, little one. Perhaps I am more man than you are used to now, but we fit together once before...perfectly.”
Juliana shook her head, mutely denying there had ever been another man, but he misunderstood. “Perfectly, Juliana,” he insisted. “Do not lie to yourself, to me.” He soothed her gently with words and kisses until her desire returned. Then with exquisite tenderness that brought tears to her eyes, he slipped the oversize T-shirt from her body, drawing it away until she was naked except for the scrap of lace and silk.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he were remembering another night, and her body bathed in moonlight then as now. Then his eyes opened and the expression in them told her more than words that his memories, beautiful as they were to him, paled in comparison to the reality of the vision she created now. It was a heady feeling.
Juliana knew her body had changed. She had been eighteen then; she was twenty-nine now. Her breasts were fuller, her hips more womanly. But his body had changed, too. She had responded to his vibrant masculinity eleven years ago, but now she realized he had just been coming into full maturity as a man.