I’m officially a voyeur now.
“What do you feel when I touch you?” he asked, pinching her nipples.
“Fire,” she said, panting. “Need. Ecstasy.”
“’Tis the same for me. Why would learning about you change this for me?” He lightly kicked one of her ankles, forcing her legs to part. With a hand on her nape, he urged her to lean forward and grip the sides of the mirror.
“Are we having sex?” she asked, breathless.
In lieu of an answer, he dropped to his knees, gripped her hips, and tongued her clitoris, making her cry out in bliss.
I am falling deeply and irrevocably in love with this man…and I’m days away from losing him.
What was she going to do?
How was she supposed to live without him?
* * *
HEATHER MERCER LAY on a small twin bed, frozen to the bone and shivering. The thin, ragged blanket that covered her did little to warm her up. Enveloped by tepid night air laden with summery scents, there was no reason for her to feel so chilled. But lately, nothing warmed her. Not coffee or hot chicken noodle soup. Not thick flannel jackets or leather gloves. The coldness came from too deep within her.
Trying to distract herself from the discomfort, she concentrated on her new job. Tomorrow she would begin working for Katie James, a prospect Heather loathed almost as much as she celebrated. She needed the money, but the thought of spending hour after hour with the too-perfect woman who’d experience no real hardships in life made her stomach knot, wringing out acid.
Some people were blessed with happy, normal lives. Some people were not.
Katie’s success made Heather feel dirty, like a cheap piece of furniture in a room full of glorious antiques. The bitch had everything. Money. Talent. Love. Jorlan looked at her as if she were a pot of gold. Plus, Katie had brothers—bodyguards—who considered her a treasure.
Perhaps if Heather had ever had a brother, he would have protected her from her father. Would have protected her from the long string of men who’d used her over the years as she searched for someone, anyone, to make her whole again.
Rolling to her side, she hugged a pillow, pretending the soft down was a loving man who lived and breathed for her happiness. To him, she was more important than the portal to sexual release between her legs.
After a while, darkness descended over her mind. She drifted off…
Wake up!
The shout came from her deepest self-perseveration instincts. Heather blinked open her eyes. Though she was toasty warm at last, panic set in. A male’s voice penetrated her awareness. He chanted quietly in her ear.
Her first thought: not again.
Her second: he isn’t my father, and I’m not a child. Who is he, and why is he here?
He stood at the side of the bed, bathed in shadows, yet she had no problem cataloging his features. He was so beautiful, his features strong and chiseled. Classic perfection had always unnerved her; she didn’t like perfect. Outward beauty tended to mask inner ugliness.
Her panic spiked into pure terror. She tried to kick him and roll away, tried to cry out, but he chanted something else, and a sense of relaxation stole through her, everything around her becoming hazy and distant. Like a new, wondrous reality. Peace settled over her, her breathing slowing.
“You are dreaming,” he whispered. “Only dreaming.”
Yes, of course. She was dreaming. A glorious dream she never wanted to end. Hadn’t she just wished for a loving man to warm her? And here he was. An apparition strangely familiar to her.
Was he the source of her peace?
“Who are you?” she asked, and she sounded drugged.
“I am Percen.” The low timbre of his voice made her shiver with feminine awareness. But his accent…a match for Jorlan’s.
“Percen,” she repeated. A name she’d never heard before. Percy, yes. Percen, no. “Why are you here?”
“I have come for you, Heather.”
“Me?” Her eyes widened with surprise. “I don’t understand.”
“You belong to me.” His blue eyes bored into her, sending new currents of heat racing inside her veins. “Only me. Never again will you belong to Jorlan. Say it.”
“Never again,” she parroted. Yes, she’d wanted Jorlan at first, maybe to hurt Katie, or maybe because she’d thought Jorlan was someone who could help her overcome her past. But she felt nothing for him, and she certainly didn’t belong to him. But this man…
She might not mind belonging to him. She’d been many things in her twenty-four years, but never a woman who belonged with another. A companion. A comforter, supporter and provider.
“What do you want to do with me?” she found herself asking.
He remained silent for a long while, as if debating the best answer within himself. “Tonight, I will simply hold you. Do you want me to hold you?”
“Oh, yes. Please. Hold me and never let me go.” She could trust a dream man not to harm her.
In a blink, he lay at her side, her head resting in the hollow of his neck, one of her legs already draped across his thighs. His arm rested against her nape. Warmth inundated her.
“Soon we will make love,” he said, somehow confident and nervous at the same time. “What think you of that?”
“I think… I’ve never been happier,” she said, and it was the truth. The peace, she’d never experienced anything like it.
He reached out to reverently trace the curve of her cheek, then slid his finger up and over her eyebrow. She didn’t cringe as she usually did upon contact with another person. Nightmares didn’t plague her. No, she felt cherished. Worshipped.
“Promise me you’ll stay with me forever,” she whispered. “Please.” She rested her head on his chest, praying this heavenly dream would last all through the night. “I need you.”
“Worry not, angel. I will stay you. Anyone who attempts to take you from me will die screaming.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MIDMORNING SUNLIGHT FILTERED through the curtains, bright and luminescent. Jorlan lay flat on his back, one hand bracing his neck as he stared up at the ceiling. Katie was asleep, nestled deep in the crook of his arm. He’d meant to leave her alone this dawning, giving her body time to heal, but she’d had other ideas. She’d reminded him of their conversation about orgasm denial, and he’d heard the wanting in her voice.
He grinned. Hearing her beg for release…
Pride puffed his chest. My katya loves her pleasures.
And I love giving her those pleasures.
Never had a tupping been so fun and playful. Or so moving. So intense. He’d taken her gently, and he’d taken her fiercely. He’d felt raw inside but better than ever. He felt wholly carnal, wrapped up in sensation….and wholly grounded, wrapped up in logic. He’d felt complete and incomplete, hungry and sated, certain and uncertain.
What he’d experienced with Katie had been as all-consuming as a third-season wind whirl. Unstoppable! And by Elliea, he yearned to experience it again and again.
The pleasure he felt with her was staggering, and no sooner had his pulse calmed than he’d gone back to war with the nagging, constant need to possess her again. He hadn’t known he could get that hard that often or that quickly.
He knew how rare and special his encounter with Katie was. Did she? His little witch had no basis for comparison. And he wasn’t complaining. The knowledge that no other man had possessed her body awed and humbled him. His possessiveness defied reason, for virginity was not prized or expected in Imperia. Females reveled in their lovers just as males. In fact, the more lovers a female took, the more prized she became, her knowledge of heightening a partner’s pleasure greatly increased.