Modern Romance February Books 5-8. Jane Porter

her eyes. Warm water was trickling over her skin and her belly was tight and hot and aching. She curled her hands into his wet hair, reaching out for his hard, muscular body, trying to shake some of the dizziness in her head. She wanted him so much, wanted the ache inside her to be satisfied, and helplessly she arched up against him, pressing, pulling, pleading with her fingers…

      But as he lowered his mouth and sucked fiercely on her nipples she gasped, stepping unsteadily back against the wall of the shower.

      Aristo stilled, the soft sound bringing him to his senses. Closing his mind against the heavy, insistent beat of hunger in his groin, he lifted his head. ‘Are you protected?’

      She stared at him dazedly, then shook her head.

      Groaning, he backed out of the shower, his heart pounding. When he returned she had stripped off her panties and his body stiffened in instant response. Gritting his teeth, he rolled the condom on and then kissed her again, parting her lips, plundering her mouth with his tongue. His hands were roaming over her belly and between her thighs and, feeling her move against his fingers, he was suddenly struggling to breathe.

      Teddie moaned softly. Her body was aching now and, reaching out, her hand found his erection. Hardly breathing, she slid her fingers over the rigid, pulsing length, pulling him closer, opening her legs. She heard him breathe in raggedly and then he was lifting her up, bracing himself against the wall. Shifting against him, panting, she guided him inch by inch into her trembling body to where a ball of heat was starting to implode.

      Flattening himself against her, Aristo began to thrust, out of sync at first, then in time to the pulse beating in his head. His mouth found hers and he felt her respond, deepening the kiss. His heartbeat was accelerating and, closing his eyes, he felt his body start to cut loose from its moorings. Teddie arched upwards, her hands gripping his shoulders, nails cutting into the muscle. He felt her tense, heard her cry out, and then his body shuddered and he erupted into her.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      IT WAS EARLY when Teddie woke up. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but as she opened her eyes she could tell from the pale wash of light spreading through the room that dawn was not far away.

      She blinked. They must have forgotten to close the shutters—but then they’d had no thought for anything except each other. Her face grew hot as she remembered how Aristo had stripped her naked, his hands smooth against her skin, smooth and hard and urgent.

      How she had needed his touch, craved the frenzy of release that he alone had given her. And she had wanted to touch him too, splaying her fingers over his body, pressing her thumbs into the muscles of his shoulders and down his back, her hands shaking with eagerness.

      Glancing over at Aristo, she felt her breath still in her throat. He was deeply asleep, his long dark lashes grazing his cheekbones, one arm loosely curling over the pillow. She loved how smooth his skin was—and his smell: salt and sunlight and some kind of citrus. She lay for a moment, trying to hear his heartbeat in the silence, feeling the gravitational pull of his body.

      And she would have carried on lying there, except that her mouth felt dry, and there was a sharp ache beneath her ribs, like thirst only more intense. Pushing back the sheet carefully, so as not to wake him, she slid out of bed.

      Tiptoeing into the bathroom, she turned on the tap and, grabbing her hair to one side, held her mouth open beneath the running water. It tasted good and she swallowed greedily, and then, standing up, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.

      She stilled. She had been fighting herself for days now, and giving in to her desire had felt like such a big step, with such serious, far-reaching consequences, that she had expected to see a sign. But then when it had finally happened she had never felt more certain of anything—except when she’d found out she was pregnant and had decided to keep the baby.

      Some things were just meant to be, and leading him into his bedroom had given her a peace that came from being part of something greater and beyond her control.

      And now? How did she feel now?

      She searched anxiously inside herself for feelings of regret—but how could she regret what had happened last night? He’d felt so right against her, their bodies seamless against one another, and even now the memory of his touch made her head swim. It had been wonderful, incredible… The corners of her mouth turned up and she realised she was grinning stupidly at herself in the mirror. Magical!

      And it wasn’t just the sex. She’d been there before, tumbling into bed with Aristo after that meeting with their lawyers, but then it had felt so different—off-key, every word a misstep, their bodies desperately seeking a way to resolve what they hadn’t even tried to address.

      Only, now they’d talked—really talked—and there had been no desperation, just a sense of irrefutable rightness.

      So, no, she didn’t regret any of it—but nor, she realised, had the ache in her chest subsided. It wasn’t water she wanted.

      Back in the bedroom, she slipped under the sheets and felt him shift beside her. Gazing down, she saw that his eyes were open, and then his hand was sliding over her stomach and her body rippled into life and she reached for him urgently.

      * * *

      An ivory-coloured light greeted Aristo when he blinked his eyes open several hours later. For a few moments he lay on his back, watching the white muslin curtain flutter weakly in the barely there breeze, and then slowly he stretched out his arms above his head.

      For days now, ever since he’d walked into the Kildare lounge and spotted Teddie, his body had been on edge, vibrating with the muscle memory of what it had been like to hold his ex-wife in his arms, to feel her body arching beneath his and hear her soft gasp of climax.

      Last night had transformed memory into reality, and now, lying among the warm mussed-up bedding, breathing in the scent of her skin, his body was already craving her again.

      Unsurprisingly.

      Right from the moment she’d reached for him he’d been enslaved. And not just by her beauty or the way her body had melted into his. She’d taken the heaviness from his heart, made the blood run more lightly in his veins, and he’d never met anyone like her before or since.

      Despite the undeniable attraction between them, Teddie had been keeping him at arm’s length. Until last night, when she had led him to his bedroom and he had felt like an exile returning to the promised land.

      He breathed out once, then got up swiftly and walked into the bathroom. Stepping under the shower, he closed his eyes, tipping his head back under the warm water, and instantly he felt his body harden, his brain dazzled by the memory of Teddie naked, sliding down his body, cupping him in her mouth—

      His eyes snapped open and he punched off the water. It still didn’t feel real: to be able to touch her again, to have her consent to kiss and caress her freely, to stretch out her body beneath his.

       But it had happened.

      And the relief was unimaginable—as intoxicating and potent as wine. And even more potent was the knowledge that she had felt the same way too. Even if she hadn’t stated her desire out loud, he’d have felt the urgency in her, felt a need as explicit and unequivocal as his own, and the tautness of her nipples and the slick heat between her thighs had been answer enough.

      And holding her whilst she slept… He had liked it that she had curled against him, had enjoyed almost against his will the possessive feeling it had provoked, even though it was the kind of primitive he-man response he would normally despise.

      But it was daunting, knowing how easy it would be to lose himself in Teddie. Look at how he was feeling now. Already he could feel the previously insurmountable barriers around his heart starting to crack apart, like pack ice feeling a spring sun.

      Only, that wasn’t going to happen.