The One-Night Wife

His need for her was almost overpowering.

But he couldn't, wouldn't let her know that. She wasn't herself. She was in pain. In despair. She was weeping. He'd done so many wrong things since they'd met, he wasn't going to add taking advantage of her to the list.

"Sweetheart." His voice was so rough he was amazed he could talk at all. Carefully, he held her by the shoulders and took a single step back. "Savannah. Let me just...let me just—"

"Sean," she whispered and rose to him, clasping his face, bringing his mouth to hers, and he was lost.

A torrent of desire flooded his senses. He groaned and swung her into his arms, never taking his mouth from hers as he carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed that was still warm from her body.

When he drew back, she gave a little cry of distress and he took her hands and pressed kisses into the palms.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

"I've never been surer of anything in my life." Tears still glittered on her lashes, but her lips curved in a smile. "Make love to me, Sean. Please."

He undressed her slowly, kissing each bit of skin as he bared it to his mouth. Her sighs, her moans, the beat of his heart became the only sounds in the universe.

When she was naked, he spent a long moment just look­ing at her, the delicacy of her breasts, the gentle rounding of her belly, the gold of her skin, but she stirred uneasily and when his gaze moved to her face, he saw a shadow in her eyes. Wariness. Trepidation.

Fear.

Was she afraid of what he might do to her? Had Beau­mont...? No. He wasn't going to think about that son of a bitch. Not now. Now, all that mattered was Savannah.

"Savannah," he whispered urgently, "don't be afraid. I'll never hurt you."

She shook her head. "I'm not afraid of you. But—but there's something I should tell you—"

"No," he said, silencing her with a kiss. What she was going to say, that she'd been with a lot of other men, that some of them had done things... He didn't want to hear it. Didn't need to hear it. All he needed was this. Her mouth. Her breasts. The way he could make her breath catch when he licked her nipples. The way she moaned when he slid his hands under her, lifted her to him, kissed her belly, her thighs.

"Sean. Oh God, Sean..."

She was trembling again, but not with fear. With passion. The intensity of her need for him filled him with joy. This was how he wanted her. Open to him. Wanting him.

Him. Only him.

He kept his eyes on hers as parted her thighs. She moaned; her eyes went wide as he stroked a finger over her labia. She cried out, jolted like a filly who'd never before carried a rider.

"Sweet," he whispered. "So sweet..."

Slowly, carefully, he opened her to him. Breathed lightly against the waiting bud that had bloomed for him. Kissed it. Caressed it, and suddenly she arched like a bow. Her cry soared into the heavens and she sobbed his name.

Sean pulled off his clothes and came down to her. Caught her hands, entwined his fingers with hers, watched her face, her beautiful face, as he moved between her thighs and en­tered her...

And discovered that his lover was a virgin.

The realization shocked him into immobility. "Savan­nah?"

A world of questions were in that one word. Savannah understood them all and knew she'd have to provide an­swers but for now, only one mattered.

"Sean." She sighed his name, lifted her head and bit lightly into his shoulder. The taste of man and musk quick­ened the race of her already-galloping heart. ' 'Please. Make love to me."

Groaning with pleasure, Sean slid into her warmth and took her with him to the stars.

They lay tangled together, breathing raggedly, a fine film of sweat drying on their skin.

"You're a virgin," he said in wonderment.

"Not anymore," she said softly, her lips curving at the awe in his voice, at the joy in her heart, and felt his lips curve, too, against her throat.

"You should have told me."

"Oh, sure. There's always an easy way to bring some­thing like that into the conversation."

"I'd have gone slower."

"Mmm. Slower sounds nice."

Her words were a teasing purr. Sean smiled again and bit lightly into her flesh.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes." She moved beneath him, stretching like a cat. "I'm very all right."

He lifted his head. Her face was inches from his. Her eyes glowed and her smile would definitely have tempted Da Vinci. She looked sated and happy, and his heart did a little two-step of absolute male satisfaction.

"I'm glad. Still, if I'd known..."

"Would you have believed me?"

A muscle knotted in his jaw. After a couple of seconds, he turned on his side but kept his arm tightly around her.

"No."

Savannah nodded. His honesty was one of the things she liked about Sean O'Connell. It was a rare quality.

"I'm sorry, Savannah. I know you wanted me to say I would have, but—"

She rolled toward him and put her finger across his mouth. "Don't apologize for speaking the truth. Of course you wouldn't have believed me." She traced the outline of his lips. "Why on earth would you?"

Sean sucked her finger between his teeth and bit down gently. Then he took her hand from his mouth and kissed it.

"So, he isn't—"

"No." Savannah shuddered. "God, no. He's not."

"Then, what is he to you? Your business partner?"

"Alain is...Alain was—" she said, hastily correcting the error "—he was my friend."

' 'Beaumont?''

She could hear the incredulity in his voice. She couldn't blame him. The man Alain had recently revealed himself to be couldn't be anyone's friend, but the Alain she knew— the one she thought she knew—was different.

"I met him a long time ago," she said, propping herself on her elbows so she could see Sean's face. "He was—he was good to me."

"Oh, yeah. He sounded like he was being good to you the other night, all right. Almost as good as the night he sent you to seduce me."

"He didn't tell me to—to go to bed with you that night," Savannah said quickly.

"No," Sean said coldly. "He just told you to keep me so busy thinking about taking you to bed that I wouldn't concentrate on the game."

"He's changed. The Alain I knew... That Alain isn't there anymore."

The Alain she'd thought she knew, Sean told himself, and what did she mean, he'd been good to her? From the little he'd seen, Beaumont treated her like dirt.

"How was he good to you?"

"What?"

"You said he was good to you. I'm trying to figure out how."

There was an edge to his voice. He wanted explanations but how could she give them? She wasn't ready to talk to him about Missy or the way she and her sister had lived. Lying naked in the arms of a man she hardly knew seemed less intimate than telling him the ugly details of her life.

"He just was," she said stiffly, and started to pull away. Sean drew her close again.

"I'm sorry."

"Let me up, please."

"No." Gently, he pushed her onto her back. "I'm a fool," he said gruffly, "talking about Beaumont when we have so many other things to discuss."

He kissed her. She tried not to respond but he kissed her again and she felt her resolve slipping.

"What things?" she said softly, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

"Important things." His voice grew husky. "The way you taste." He kissed her again, gently parting her lips with his. "I love the way you taste."

She smiled. "Do you?"

"Uh-huh. Your mouth." He dipped his head, touched the tip of his tongue to the hollow in her throat. ' 'Your throat.'' He dipped his head again and licked one nipple, then the other. "And your breasts. You have beautiful breasts, Sa­vannah."

Her breath caught as his teeth closed lightly on one pink bud. "When you do that...when you do that..."

"I l

ove the feel of your nipples on my tongue."

"Oh God. Sean..."

"What?"

He looked up. Her eyes were becoming dark; the color in her face was rising. Her skin was turning warm and fra­grant and his heart was doing flip-flops in his chest. He brought his mouth to hers, whispered his desire.

"Savannah. I want to make love to you again."

She cupped his face, kissed him, openmouthed, sighed his name against his lips.

"Is it too soon? I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. Not by making love to me. I want you to. I want—"

She cried out as he slipped his hand between her thighs.

"This?" he said thickly. "Is this what you want?"

"Yes. That. Oh, and that. And—and—"