Pride After Her Fall

He smiled—a slow, unbelievably beautiful smile she had never seen before. There was an expectant tension in his hard muscled frame as he came over her, and instinctively she lifted her hand to his shoulder. His skin was so warm, his body so solid. She felt as if she could be anything, do anything, if she had this solidity behind her. It was a silly girlhood fantasy, long robbed from her by life and experience, but she was allowed it, wasn’t she? Just for tonight? Tomorrow was soon enough to face cold reality, where she was on her own, but in the moment she had this.

She suddenly didn’t care about all the other women, didn’t care that she’d offered herself up to him at that racetrack. She didn’t care about anything but the feeling of rightness having him here with her gave her.

‘I believe we’re making love,’ he said, in that deep, rich voice that flowed like warm honey through her limbs and made her pliant as she drew his face down to hers.

‘Nash...’ She said his name, pressing her lips to the base of his throat. ‘Nash...’ She said his name as she placed kisses along his jaw, nuzzled him. Wanted him.

She reached down and stroked his erect, heavy penis with her hand. His face so close to hers grew heavy with sensual pleasure, and his eyes beneath those sinfully thick black lashes were hot and sexual. He was so beautiful and so male Lorelei couldn’t stop looking at him. She didn’t want to stop. She felt powerful but also vulnerable at the same time, and never so female.

He took her hand and helped her guide the hard silken length of him to the entrance of the wet, hot heart of her body, his eyes never leaving hers. The head of his penis probed gently, and then he moved into her with one long, slow thrust.

Lorelei moaned, trying to accustom herself to the unfamiliar feeling of fullness.

‘How is it?’ His glittering blue eyes were close to her own as he brought their temples together.

‘Wonderful,’ she whispered, and in that instant she believed him about making love.

Filled by him, she wrapped her legs around him, taking him deeper. The passionate kissing, his mouth riding against hers as he surged inside her, the careful way he held her even as the pressure built for him—all coalesced into an intense emotional experience as she began the steady climb towards a blissful fall.

CHAPTER TEN

LORELEI lay in his arms, her face obscured by the cascade of her pale curls, her delicate beige-tipped breasts rising and falling rapidly as she slept. Faint tear-marks still glistened on her cheeks.

She had wept. She had pressed her face into the curve of his shoulder and wept after the first time they’d come together. Her whole body had quaked in his arms. He told himself sometimes that could happen for a woman, and he felt in Lorelei that her emotions were very close to the surface. But what didn’t happen were the emotions he had felt...

Protective. Passionate. And stirred to action. Because those tears, he sensed, were not just a physical reaction to the intensity of what had happened in this bed.

So he had held her as she cried, and soothed her with his body, until somehow he was inside her again—and this time everything was so much slower, as if time itself had altered to fit the rhythm of their entwined bodies and he was giving her what she needed.

Sex he understood. Physical pleasure was one of the necessities of life—like water and sunlight and racing at high speeds around a track.

He wasn’t entirely sure he understood this. What had happened in this bed.

It was nearing dawn. The first fingers of light had come creeping through the shadeless windows and there were pale shadows across the covers. The day was approaching and he didn’t want it to come. He wanted to still time a little longer.

Watching her sleep, he felt almost as if he had captured some wild nymph from the woods and brought her to capitulation in his bed. She was so delicate, almost fey, he realised with a faint smile at the direction of his thoughts. She needed to be handled with care...and that should be sending warning bells off in his head, he thought, even as he stroked the silken curve of her bent arm.

His smile faded. Only hours ago he’d told himself this was merely the slaking of an appetite. He’d reasonably assumed his interest in her was powered by his sexual attraction to her body, as it had been with dozens of other women over the years.