I shivered, remembering. Even now, as he held me in the morning light, Edward was looking at me hungrily, and I felt my body respond.
Had he been watching me sleep, waiting for me to wake? I hoped not. I’d been dreaming about him. We’d been having a summer picnic in the garden. The sky was blue, the sun warm, and flowers were in bloom around us. He’d held me close on the blanket, and when I whispered that I loved him, his dark blue eyes had lit up. I love you, Diana, he’d said.
What if I’d been talking in my sleep? He would freak out if he knew. “I hope I didn’t wake you up by snoring or, er...” I blushed. “...talking in my sleep.”
“No,” Edward growled, rolling me beneath him. It seemed he hadn’t woken me to talk. “You slept like the dead. Another two seconds and you would have woken up with me inside you.”
“It doesn’t sound like the worst way to—” He covered my mouth with his own, thrusting smoothly inside me. He was as hard as if we hadn’t made love three times already; I was as wet as if he hadn’t brought me to aching, explosive climax again and again.
If the other times had been passionate or rough, now, as he took me in the golden light of morning, he was tender, even gentle. How could we still be so unsatiated, so hungry for more? I grasped his shoulders tight, digging into his skin with my fingertips, holding my breath as he pushed deeper into me, until six thrusts later we were both sweaty and crying out and clutching each other.
He pulled me close, kissing my temple.
“What you do to me...” he whispered against my sweaty skin, and my soul expanded into every inch of my body. I sighed, closing my eyes and pressing my cheek against his warm, hard-muscled chest. It felt so right to be in his arms. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t thinking about the past or the future. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
It was after noon by the time we woke again. “Good afternoon,” he whispered now, smiling as he kissed me.
“Good afternoon.” I sighed, then stretched across the bed. “I hate to get up.”
“So don’t.”
“I’m hungry.” I smiled, then my smile faltered. “And I have a lot to pack.”
“Pack?” He frowned. “For what?”
“For home.”
“You’re leaving?”
He sounded indignant. An unwilling laugh lifted to my lips. “You fired me.”
“Ah.” Relaxing, Edward looked thoughtful. “Fired is such a strong word. Made redundant is more accurate. By your own hard work, I might add.” He tilted his head. “Now, you’re probably asking yourself, what kind of heartless bastard would cut someone out of a job right before Christmas?”
“Um, you?”
He laughed. “You’ve been paid in full. While you were on your walk yesterday, I had my secretary deposit your entire promised salary—the whole year’s worth.”
I stared at him. “What?”
He looked amused. “You really should pay more attention to your bank account.”
“You’re right,” I said. Tell me something I didn’t know. “Well. Um. Thanks. I guess I’ll go pack...”
“Don’t go.” He grabbed my wrist. His voice was low. “I want you to stay with me. Through the New Year, at the very least. Not as my employee, but as my—”
“Yes,” I blurted out.
Snorting, he lifted a dark eyebrow. “I could have said slave.”
I gave him a crooked grin. “Then definitely yes.”
“Thank God,” he said softly, smoothing tendrils of hair off my face. “One last week of holiday,” his lips turned downward, “before I go back to London.”
My stomach growled. Standing up, I walked naked across the room and picked up my silk robe. I tied it around me. “What’s in London?”