Until You

He touched her, kissed her everywhere, his lips warm against her skin. He moved down the bed, took her foot gently in his hand and kissed her instep and then her ankle; he licked the soft skin behind her knee. She made incoherent little sounds as he moved up the length of her body, his middle-of-the-night beard rough and exciting against the tender flesh of her thighs, and then his mouth was at the center of her and she dug her hands into his hair and writhed against the hot pleasure of his tongue and his lips.

"Please," she said brokenly, "oh please..."

Conor drew back and tore off his shorts and then he was kneeling between her thighs, kissing her, whispering to her. Her arms tightened around him; she drew him down to her so that her skin burned against his, matching him kiss for kiss, her hands moving over him in a frenzy, learning the straightness of his spine, the faint indentation at its base. She was moaning, making sounds of need and desire that were rocketing him ever faster towards the zenith of pleasure that awaited him.

Slow down, man, he told himself, slow down.

But he couldn't. He couldn't. He was desperate to be inside her. With a groan, he slid his hands under her hips, lifted her to him... and held back, torturing them both, slipping just the tip of his penis into her silken heat.

"Conor," she sobbed, "Conor..."

Oh God, she was coming apart! Something was giving way deep inside her. It was a terrifying feeling, like standing on the highest level of the Eiffel Tower with the wind rushing through your hair and all of Paris spread out beneath you and letting yourself wonder what would happen if you just stepped out into space.

Frantic with sudden fear, she shoved against Conor's chest.

"No," she said, "no, I can't!"

He moved, plunging into her deep and hard, and she climaxed instantly, her body contracting around him as a wild cry burst from her throat. Her nails raked his back; she sobbed his name and his mouth dropped to hers and he kissed her, knowing even as he did that he had to be hurting her, that he could taste the tang of blood on his tongue but God, he couldn't stop, couldn't pull back, and now he was coming, coming, he was going to break apart and lose himself forever.

Conor threw back his head and gave himself up to the whirlwind.

* * *

He fell asleep, holding her in his arms. And for one long, breathless moment, Miranda drifted, suspended in space.

And then Mia meowed, someplace in the darkness of the apartment, and reality returned.

Conor's arms were warm, but the room was cold. The blankets had fallen to the foot of the bed, and the chill of the night raised goose bumps on her skin. The sheet beneath her was cold and wet; there was an unpleasant stickiness on her thighs.

Carefully, she moved away from Conor, rolled to the side of the bed and sat up. Her discarded nightgown lay on the floor beside the bed. She reached for it and pulled it on, then made her way into the bathroom, shut the door and turned on the light.

A stranger with tousled hair, wide eyes and a swollen mouth stared at her from the mirror. Her hand shook as she lifted it and touched her throat. There was a tiny bruise there, made by Conor's teeth.

She closed her eyes and tried to call back what she'd felt in his arms, the sense of belonging, of fulfillment—even of love.

Her eyes opened and she looked at herself again.

Lies, all of it.

Her mouth tightened, and she clutched the edge of the sink.

She had let it happen but it was his fault. It was all his fault.

Everything had been so simple until the day he'd shown up at the Louvre. She had her career, she had friends. Things had been in perfect balance.

And Conor had ruined it.

Conor, bought and paid for by Eva, sent to solve Eva's problems, to do Eva's bidding.

If he destroyed her, and the life she'd created in the process, so what?

Miranda shuddered. And if he could get laid while he did it, so much the better.

Except, it had been more than that. He'd been more than that. He'd been passionate and tender, and in his arms, she'd almost become someone else...

"Miranda?"

She whirled around, her heart banging in her chest.