Death by drowning didn’t seem a bad way to go, so long as it was Carly he was submerged in.

Giving himself over to the sensation, he wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hand low on her back, and closed his eyes, burying his nose at her neck, immersing himself as he succumbed to the spell she cast. Turning himself over to the sensation, he basked in her citrus scent, her soft skin and the emotion she shared so readily. So freely. And so honestly.

The unequivocal return of passion in her hips as they met his urged him on. Every savoring thrust increased his greed. Wanting to claim it all, to absorb the very essence of this woman, he fisted his hands in her hair, raking his teeth across the pulse pounding at her neck. His breath turned ragged against her damp skin and she clung to him, each of them lost in the other. Although he maintained the unhurried pace, the slow, strong strokes of his shaft grew rough, rugged. And needy.

Until Carly let out a soft cry.

The brutally frank need built higher. Both frightening in its intensity and healing in its authenticity. Weakening him and strengthening him at the same time. And as her cries of surrender turned into a call of completion the start of her orgasm gave him a final push. He took the leap with her, following her off the cliff and plunging headlong toward the ocean. And then the pleasure hit hard and closed over his head.

* * *

Well, it wasn’t quite what she’d envisioned, but there was no denying it now.

She was in love.

Carly’s chest hitched on a painful breath as she lay next to a sleeping Hunter, staring up at the ceiling of the hotel room. For years she’d wondered how the emotion would feel—perhaps like double rainbows with pots of gold, or frolicking unicorns, or any other number of mythical, magical things she’d heard of through the years. It was supposed to leave her believing she could leap tall buildings in a single bound, not longing to hide out in a basement.

She’d expected to feel energized and ready to take on the world, not left flattened in its wake.

Carly squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the fear and forcing her breaths to come at a more doable rate—one that didn’t make her feel quite so dizzy or panicky. She turned her head to look at Hunter—which didn’t help her lightheaded sense of anxiety either. The masculine edges of his face looked relaxed in sleep, as did the sensual lips that had minutes before consumed hers. This time had been different. He had made love to her as if all the barriers were gone. As if desperate to satisfy an emotional need via a physical one.

Or maybe that was her being naive again. Because sex was just sex, and with Hunter it had always been good, so what did it really mean?

Confused, she covered her eyes with her hand. Love hadn’t brought the kind of harmony and feel-good vibes she’d always imagined. And how could she rely on a feeling of closeness in bed to mean anything? Perhaps, for Hunter, it really was all about the physical?

But she couldn’t get beyond the feeling that facing his old colleague had brought all the old memories to the surface. That he had turned to her in a moment of pain—trusting her to see him through, having faith in the two of them.

And maybe pots of gold and frolicking unicorns were real and waiting for her right outside the hotel room.

With a subdued sigh, her doubts and fears too loud to be silenced, she rolled out of bed and quietly changed into jeans and a T-shirt. She combed her hair, slipped out of the room, and wandered down the hallway and into an elevator, pushing the button for the ground floor. As she descended Carly stared at her reflection in the mirrored wall, looking for the radiant glow that women in love were supposed to emit.

But where was the inner peace? The empowering sense of resolve? Or, for God’s sake, at least her usual confidence? According to the generally accepted unwritten rules of romance she was now supposed to be an über-strong, formidable woman, endowed with the heroic ability to overcome all manner of obstacles simply with the power of the love in her heart.

All she felt was an overwhelming sense that she was no closer to breaching Hunter’s mighty defenses than she had been before she knew she’d taken the emotional fall—but now failing to lure him out of his shell wasn’t just about his happiness, but hers too.

Because, with those cool blue eyes, there was no way of being certain about anything.

The elevator doors opened and Carly made her way into the lobby, coming to a stop beside the marble fountain in the center. Feeling lost, she scanned the elegant scene. And then she spied obnoxious agent Terry Smith at the lobby bar.

A wave of discomfort settled deep in her belly. No surprise that he lacked the imagination to seek out one of the many Las Vegas establishments that offered more than canned elevator music, hardwood floors, and an elegance so subdued it bordered on bland, generic posh.

Tags: Aimee Carson Billionaire Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net