Chapter 45

Then his boxers were gone. He rolled on a condom and lay back over her, supported on his elbows. His penis moved between her legs, anxious to gain entrance, but he took his time, patiently kissing her face and mouth again. She wound her hands around his arms, over his taut shoulders and not at all patiently pushed up her hips in silent invitation.

He accepted, slid inside her an inch at a time, pulling out in between advances so she really felt him stretching her, filling her. Then the final smooth slide to the hilt, and he started a slow and steady rhythm that made her clutch his biceps and grit her teeth to keep from crying out that he should go harder, get her to that peak she was so desperate for. She wanted their lovemaking at his pace, to satisfy his need, whatever he wanted.

He’d given her the best day of her life. He’d given her candles and a bed with clean sheets. Everything else should be hers to give back to him. He kept his pace leisurely, occasionally closing his eyes, pausing, then back to the easy gentle rhythm. Gradually she relaxed, arousal staying at a steady high simmer, stopped straining for her climax, loosened her grip on his arms and began a slow, sensual exploration of his body, stroking him everywhere she could reach.

In and out, in…and out, his buttock muscles contracting and releasing under her fingers. She resisted urging him on, opened her eyes and locked into his gaze. In spite of the intensity of their connection, physical and emotional, in spite of the feelings surging through her, or maybe because of them, she was finally content to watch him watching her, not a trace of panic, experiencing his slide inside her, the gentle friction he maintained by rolling and twisting his hips.

She had no idea how much time went by, maybe five minutes, maybe half an hour, maybe more. She could have stayed there forever, joined to this man so intimately, candles flickering, soft lake air caressing them through the open windows. Was this love? It didn’t seem that it could be anything else.

Then he kissed her again, gentleness that soon gave way to the inevitable passion she both wanted and didn’t. With desire’s rise, his pace quickened, his thrusts became longer, harder, deeper. Ecstasy seemed to come at her from a great distance, like a storm’s inevitable approach, closer and closer, more and more power evident, until that second of held-breath anticipation before the roaring rush of wind, thunder and rain.

She didn’t think she’d ever come down, the orgasm went on and on, staying at its peak for an impossibly long time, during which she said his name in her mind over and over, aware of him inhaling sharply and coming to his own release. When the intense pleasure finally let her go, she lay under him clasped in his arms, becoming dimly aware again of sounds and shapes and light around them.

“Candace.” His voice was deep, quiet, full of longing.

She nodded. She understood. I love you, too. She couldn’t say it. Not yet. Too much at stake, too much still to work out. She hoped she’d shown him how she felt in every possible way while they were making love, so tenderly and so silently.

“That was…” He blew out a breath. “I hate the cliché, but I didn’t know it could be like that.”

“Me, neither.”

“So…Candace.”

Something about the way he said her name this time interrupted her dreamily relaxed mood. “Yeah?”

He rolled off her, grabbed tissues and got rid of the condom with a perfect three-pointer into the trash can across the room, then lay back down and gathered her against his chest. “I’ve got a proposition.”

The rest of her beautiful afterglow fantasy shattered. Oh, no. Not this argument again. She sighed and faked a return smile when he grinned at her. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

“I was going to wait to tell you, but you should think this over for the next few days while you’re here. If I let you out of bed long enough.”

She didn’t need to fake the next smile. “O-kay…”

“If I take the job as director of the foundation, which it looks like I will, and if I can get the board of directors to go along with the low-rent studio idea, which I don’t see why I wouldn’t be able to, and if Annie's partnership is amenable, which I’m sure they will be…” He lifted his eyebrows comically. “You with me?”

“Lots of ifs. I got that much.”

“Lots of ifs.” He pushed a hand through his hair, a lock of which ignored his efforts and tumbled back onto his forehead. “The new building…will need a manager.”

It was suddenly hard to breathe.

“You’re not only perfectly qualified for the job, but you’d be around working artists, and, I hope, get some of your soul fed in the process.” His gaze turned sly. “At least better than managing condos in Rosehill.”

“I’ve already committed myself.” The protest was automatic. How many times had she made it?

“I know. Just think it over. Everything is in the planning stages so far, which accounts for all the ifs. For one, the building wouldn’t be ready to manage for quite some time. It still needs buying and renovating. We’re probably talking over a year. But if you stayed, I could find you work at the foundation. I spoke to my dad. He said the outgoing director is taking staff with him to his new job.”

“I can’t do this.” She struggled onto her elbow. “Gran and Grandad—”

“Are healthier than you think.”

“Even if that’s true, they’re not getting younger.” The argument felt stale and false. Was she really thinking of them? Or was this knee-jerk self-protection?

“I thought they were in their late eighties the way you talked about them, but your Gran sounded about sixty on the phone.”

Candace swallowed. “She’s seventy. Grandad is seventy-three.”

“They could live another twenty years in perfect health.” He narrowed his eyes but his voice was gentle. “If you don’t want to do it, if there’s some other reason, just say so.”

“It’s not that.” She gestured meaninglessly and let her hand drop on his chest. “I just can’t…I owe them so much. And you and I have known each other such a short time.”