Well, easily removable.
At a quarter to eight, she was back down in her kitchen, and as the darkness bled through the glass slider, her anxiety returned to the forefront. The idea that Bruce had done something unthinkable to Charlie Byrnes was—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
As Anne jumped up from her little table, she had a thought that she hadn’t been aware of having taken a seat. With a pounding heart, she looked to the sliding glass door, and when she didn’t see anything out on her shallow back porch, she glanced toward her living room—
“Anne?” came the muffled voice from down there. “It’s me.”
She ran so fast for the front door that she skidded on the hall throw rug and hit the panels with a bang. Her hands were inefficient as they skipped around the dead bolt, but soon enough, she had things opened.
Andtherehewasstandingonherdoorstep.
It felt like a lifetime since she’d seen Darius—and maybe it was the Charlie thing, maybe it was the Bruce thing… maybe it was that she’d been missing him all day long… whatever the reason, she leaped at the man. And what do you know, he caught her as if he were in the throes of the same kind of reunion she was.
Sweeping her off her feet, Darius stepped over the threshold and kicked the door shut as he kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her some more.
When he finally separated their lips, they were both breathing hard. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Upstairs,” she groaned.
With a powerful surge, he swung her up into his arms and took the steps two at a time, carrying her as though she didn’t weigh a thing. And given that she had only two bedrooms, and was using the second as an office and sewing station, he took the correct left and went directly into her private space.
Kicking the second door of the night shut, he laid her out on her mattress. “Anne, I need you—”
“Come here—”
The instant their mouths fused once again, their bodies did the same, her breasts up against his chest, their hips grinding together, his erection pressing into her lower belly through their clothes.
When he eventually sat up, she was worried he was putting the brakes on things, but it turned out it was just to wrench his leather jacket off. And as he tossed the heavy folds, the thing landed with a thud, like there were weights in it—but then she didn’t wonder about what kind of weapons had hit her floor because he was taking off his shirt.
She did the same with her own, pulling the soft sweater over her head.
“Anne…” he said as he looked at her bare breasts.
Yup, there had been no way she was wasting time with a stupid bra.
Lowering her lids, she stared up at him through her lashes. “I figured why bother, you know?”
“Amen to that.”
He was on her a split second later, ravishing her with his mouth, sucking on her nipples, stroking her from shoulder to hip. In return, she arched against him and opened her legs—
Anne cried out his name as she felt one of his hands ride up her inner thigh and cup her sex. Rubbing herself against his palm, clamping her legs together, she felt like she was melting from the inside out, her blood running hot and desperate. She told herself the passion was proof that this was the right man, finally—and then she wasn’t thinking about anything other than getting completely naked.
“Is this too fast?” he grunted as he went for the fastening on her jeans.
“No.” She pulled at his shoulders. Grabbed at his back. “No—”
In the recesses of her mind, something registered, something that she knew she should have paid attention to. But then it was gone as he started to take off those Levi’s of hers. The next thing Anne was aware of, they were both naked and he was lying on top of her, his erection thick and hard, off to the side. As he smoothed her hair back, his eyes roamed her face.
“Anne?”
“Yes,” she said, “I need you now.”
“But I don’t want to bruise you any more than you already are. You’re still healing.”
“You think I can feel anything other than you at this moment? Really?”
He closed his eyes reverently. And then his hand went between their bodies.
A hot, blunt brushing stroked up and down her core.
Do not stop yourself, a voice said in her head, one that was not her own.
No, she thought, she would not do that—
Grabbing his buttocks, she pulled his hips into her, and the penetration was so smooth, so deep, that they both cried out—and the communion was so right, so perfect, tears flooded her eyes. And that was before he started to move.
The pumping was slow at first. Steady. In and out, the advance and retreat making her feel full, but also frustrated because she wanted it harder, faster. There was wonder for her, too—at how this all seemed so inevitable, as if she were fulfilling a purpose that she had always had.
A love she had always known.
Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she said in his ear, “Harder. I need to feel all of you—”
Darius cursed and there was a hesitation. Then he seemed to unleash something within himself, his body becoming a piston, his passion overtaking them both until all she could do was hold on for dear life. Looking up at the ceiling, her head jerked back and forth on the pillow as the bed creaked and the headboard banged against the wall. He was an animal, he was wild… he was taking her, making her his own, dominating her—
The orgasm swept into her, her body going stiff as rhythmic pulses radiated out from her sex. And in response, he abruptly halted.
“Oh, fuck, I can feel you,” he panted. “Oh, God… Anne, I can feel you coming…”
* * *
Darius told himself it was happening too fast, too hard, that it was too wild and unhinged. But Anne was with him all the way, her nails scoring his healed back, her moans the stuff of fantasy, the scent of her arousal suffusing the room and getting into his blood—
And then there was the sensation of her sex milking his erection, trying to pull a release out of him.
He fought the impulse to let go, though, fought it with everything he had, until he gritted his teeth and his vision swam and he thought he was going to lose consciousness.
Except he needed to pleasure her more first—and he did.
Finally, at the last moment, just before he was going to orgasm himself, he pulled out of her, clapped his palms on her thighs, and dived down her body.
Fusing his lips onto her sex, he sucked on her, swallowed her, penetrated her with his tongue… kissed her core as deeply as he had her mouth. Her body was instantly racked with another orgasm, and another, and still he kept at it, eating her until she was writhing from side to side, shoving pillows off the bed, kicking her legs, throwing her arms.
And then he could wait no longer.
Rising up from her, he wiped the lower half of his face, then licked his way up his palm, not wanting to spare even a morsel of her.
“Anne…” he said in a guttural voice. “Look at me.”
Her lids lifted and her hazy eyes struggled to focus.
Moving her boneless legs up, he took a moment to enjoy the sight of her swollen, glistening flesh. Then he palmed his arousal and propped his free hand on the mattress.
He stroked her sex with his head until he glistened as well.