Flashback by Justine Davis (reading e books .TXT) 📗

in the world, Alex thought as she looked at him. He moved so beautifully. With all the grace and leashed power of blooded horse.

Her own analogy to the animals she so loved to ride, silent though it was, made her blush. And the heat that had been building in her ever since he’d knocked on the door began to pool somewhere low and deep, making her ache softly.

“Here’s what you really want,” he said, his tone clearly teasing as he straightened again with a lengthy computer printout in his hands.

If I told you what I really wanted right now, we wouldn’t get to that until morning, she thought.

He went very still. As if she’d spoken out loud. As, judging by the warmth in her cheeks and what she guessed must be showing in her face, she might as well have.

“Alex,” he said, his voice suddenly low and harsh.

And then she was in his arms, kissing him with all the hunger that had built since she’d realized she was being a fool to resist something so strong, so right.

Pressed against his chest, she felt his heart begin to race, felt as much as heard the sudden hammering. That his pulse leaped as hers had both thrilled and reassured her. No matter what happened from here on, she was not in this alone, this was not one-sided, this was a man of heart and soul and passion, unlike Emerson—

She shoved the last crumbling memories of her ex-fiancé out of her mind, realizing even as she did that they were likely going to be burned to ashes in the next few minutes. He had never, ever made her feel the way Justin made her feel.

“I hope you brought something else in that magic bag of tricks,” she whispered against his lips. “Something from a drugstore?”

“From the airport gift shop,” he confessed, sounding more than a little breathless.

“That’ll do.”

“You’re sure? Once we start, it’s going to be a runaway train, and I can’t promise I can stop it.”

“I won’t ask you to. This has been a long time coming.”

He groaned in assent, muttered “Damn long,” under his breath, but took her mouth voraciously with his before she could react. He kissed her again and again, long and probing, tasting, until she couldn’t help but push closer and closer, moving, rubbing herself against him. And then he was pulling at her clothes, and she at his.

When they were naked, he looked at her with a flattering expression of awe on his face. An expression, she guessed, that was echoed on her own face. He was even more beautiful than she’d imagined, truly the Dark Angel of her youth come to maturity: strong, muscular, perfectly put together. And incredibly aroused.

He made a quick move to grab a small box from a pocket of his discarded jeans, took out a foil envelope and dropped the box on the bed.

“Wait,” she whispered when he moved to open it.

She reached for him, wanting to touch him before he was sheathed, wanting to trace the length and breadth of him with hands too long denied.

He shifted slightly, making it easier for her. And the low, husky groan he let out at the first touch of her fingers only fired her higher, hotter, quicker. He grabbed her shoulders, his fingers tightening as she stroked him. When she reached farther below and cupped him, he gasped and let his head loll back as if his muscles were suddenly too weak to hold it up.

And then, as if he’d borne as much as he could, he pulled her to him, his head lifting and then coming down on her like some fierce raptor on his prey. His lips touched her and never lifted as he tasted her, her lips, her cheek, her ear, down her throat, over her collarbone.

She was panting by the time he reached her breast, arching her back, begging him to find that taut, begging peak that was tightening in anticipation of the hot wetness of his mouth.

He reached it, drew her nipple in and flicked it with his tongue. She cried out at the sweet shock of sensation, and then again when his lips tightened and he sucked, first gently, and then, as she trembled, harder.

She’d expected it to be good. Better than good, she’d expected fantastic. She’d known it would be, simply by the effect he had on her every time she’d ever even thought about sex with him.

She’d never expected it to be shattering. And so early, before they’d done much more than kiss and touch. She wondered if she would be able to stand going further, if her body wouldn’t simply fly apart long before they came together completely.

She’d also never expected to completely lose herself. She’d always thought she never would, that she would always maintain some modicum of control. An Athena would, wouldn’t she?

That theory went out the window as he moved to her other breast. And then nothing else mattered. There was no nervousness, no wariness, no fear, there was only Justin and his mouth and his hands and his body against hers.

For one brief moment he broke contact, drew back enough to look at her face. He didn’t speak, and after a moment she did.

“Let’s take the brakes off this train.”

His mouth curved into that crooked grin she loved. “Spoken like a true Athena,” he said.

And that simply, she had the answer. In the same way as they threw themselves into life, searching out and following their passion, Athenas would settle for nothing else—nothing less—in their personal lives.

It was why she hadn’t married Emerson.

It was why she was here now with Justin.

The last of her reservations were seared to ash as they tumbled down to the bed. He sheathed himself hastily, and Alex felt herself quiver in anticipation and undiluted eagerness. For the first time in her life she was not only ready but wild for it, for him, for this man, at this time. Now. Right now.

She didn’t realize she’d said