The Stanislaskis: Taming Natasha. Нора Робертс

arched against him, offering, challenging, crying out when he sought and found each secret. Pleasure arrowed into him as her small, agile body pressed against his. Strong, willful, she rolled over him to exploit and explore until his breath was a fire in his lungs and his body a mass of sensation. Half-mad, he tumbled with her over the bed and spread a tangle of sheets around them. When he lifted himself over her, he could see the wild curtain of her hair like a dark cloud, the deep, rich glow of her eyes as they clung to his. Her breathing was as hurried as his own, her body as willing.

      Never before, he realized, and never again would he find anyone who matched him so perfectly. Whatever he needed, she needed, whatever he wanted, she wanted. Before he could ask, she was answering. For the first time in his life, he knew what it was to make love with mind and heart and soul as well as body.

      She thought of no one and of nothing but him. When he touched her, it was as though she’d never been touched before. When he said her name, it was the first time she’d heard it. When his mouth sought hers, it was a first kiss, the one she’d been waiting for, wishing for all of her life.

      Palm to palm their hands met, fingers gripping hard like one soul grasping another. They watched each other as he filled her. And there was a promise, felt by both. In a moment of panic she shook her head. Then he was moving in her, and she with him.

      “Again,” was all he said as he pulled her against him.

      “Spence.”

      “Again.” His mouth covered hers, waking her out of a half dream and into fresh passion.

      He wanted her just as much, now that he knew what they could make between them, but with a fire that held steady on slow burn. This time, though desire was still keen, the madness was less intense. He could appreciate the subtle curves, the soft angles, the lazy sighs he could draw out of her with only a touch. It was like making love to some primitive goddess, naked but for the gold draped over her skin. After so long a thirst he quenched himself slowly, leisurely after that first, greedy gulp.

      How had she ever imagined she had known what it was to love a man, or to be loved by one? There were pleasures here that as a woman she knew she had never tasted before. This was what it was to be steeped, to be drowned, to be sated. She ran her hands over him, absorbing the erotic sensations of the flick of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth, the play of those clever fingertips. No, these were new pleasures, very new. And their taste was freedom.

      As the moon soared high into the night, so did she.

      “I thought I had imagined what it would be like to be with you.” Her head resting on his shoulder, Spence trailed his fingers up and down her arm. “I didn’t even come close.”

      “I thought I would never be here with you.” She smiled into the dark. “I was very wrong.”

      “Thank God. Natasha—”

      With a quick shake of her head, she put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say too much. It’s easy to say too much in the moonlight.” And easy to believe it, she added silently.

      Though impatient, he bit back the words he wanted to say. He had made a mistake once before by wanting too much, too quickly. He was determined not to make mistakes with Natasha. “Can I tell you that I’ll never look at gold chains in quite the same way again?”

      With a little chuckle she pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Yes, you can tell me that.”

      He toyed with her bracelets. “Can I tell you I’m happy?”

      “Yes.”

      “Are you?”

      She tilted her head to look at him. “Yes. Happier than I thought I could be. You make me feel…” She smiled, making a quick movement with her shoulders. “Like magic.”

      “Tonight was magic.”

      “I was afraid,” she murmured. “Of you, of this. Of myself,” she admitted. “It’s been a very long time for me.”

      “It’s been a long time for me, too.” At her restless movement, he caught her chin in his hand. “I haven’t been with anyone since before my wife died.”

      “Did you love her very much? I’m sorry,” she said quickly and closed her eyes tight. “I have no business asking that.”

      “Yes, you do.” He kept his fingers firm. “I loved her once, or I loved the idea of her. That idea was gone long before she died.”

      “Please. Tonight isn’t the time to talk about things that were.”

      When she sat up, he went with her, cupping her forearms in his hands. “Maybe not. But there are things I need to tell you, things we will talk about.”

      “Is what happened before so important?”

      He heard the trace of desperation in her voice and wished he could find the reason. “I think it could be.”

      “This is now.” She closed her hands over his. It was as close to a promise as she dared make. “Now I want to be your friend and your lover.”

      “Then be both.”

      She calmed herself with a deliberate effort.

      “Perhaps I don’t want to talk about other women while I’m in bed with you.”

      He could feel that she was braced and ready to argue. In a move that threw her off, he leaned closer to touch his lips to her brow. “We’ll let you use that one for now.”

      “Thank you.” She brushed a hand through his hair. “I’d like to spend this night with you, all night.” With a half smile, she shook her head. “You can’t stay.”

      “I know.” He caught her hand to bring it to his lips. “Freddie would have some very awkward questions for me if I wasn’t around for breakfast in the morning.”

      “She’s a very lucky girl.”

      “I don’t like leaving this way.”

      She smiled and kissed him. “I understand, as long as the other woman is only six.”

      “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bending closer, he deepened the kiss.

      “Yes.” On a sigh she wrapped her arms around him. “Once more,” she murmured, drawing him down to the bed. “Just once more.”

      In her cramped office at the back of the shop, Natasha sat at her desk. She had come in early to catch up on the practical side of business. Her ledger was up-to-date, her invoices had been filled. With Christmas less than two months away, she had completed her orders. Early merchandise was already stacked wherever room could be found. It made her feel good to be surrounded by the wishes of children, and to know that on Christmas morning what was now stored in boxes would cause cries of delight and wonder.

      But there were practicalities as well. She had only begun to think of displays, decorations and discounts. She would have to decide soon whether she wanted to hire part-time help for the seasonal rush.

      Now, at midmorning, with Annie in charge of the shop, she had textbooks and notes spread out. Before business there were studies, and she took both very seriously.

      There was to be a test on the baroque era, and she intended to show her teacher—her lover—that she could hold her own.

      Perhaps it shouldn’t have been so important to prove she could learn and retain. But there had been times in her life, times she was certain Spence could never understand, when she had been made to feel inadequate, even stupid. The little girl with broken English, the thin teenager who’d thought more about dance than schoolbooks, the dancer who’d fought so hard to make her body bear the insults of training, the young woman who had listened to her heart, not her head.

      She was none of those people any longer, and yet she was all of them. She needed Spence to respect her intelligence, to see her as an equal, not just as the woman he desired.