Chapter 15 15
And he wanted to hear more, wanted to be the only man she did this with, wanted to be the one she shared herself with. A possessiveness he'd never known rose in him. He didn't ignore it. But he didn't need it. Couldn't encourage it. Not when he might be a thousand miles away from her in a few hours. So he savored the moments, the small and big ones, as he had for years.
He took her past her climax, beyond madness and satisfaction, and back into his world, his arms. He stood and she fell against him, limp for a moment, only a moment. Then she kissed him and fire kindled as she reached between them to unfasten his belt. She shaped him, the bulge in his trousers, then pulled the zipper down. His hands braced on the door beside her head, he smothered a groan as her fingers dipped inside his trousers and freed him.
"My turn."
"Nah-ah."
"What's the matter, Detective—running out of steam?"
"No, afraid of launching without a target."
She laughed and increased pressure, stroking him wildly and pushing his trousers down. He kicked them aside, pulling her flush against him. The impact of flesh to flesh left them shuddering, weak. His hands mapped her body, stroked and dipped, and he wasn't the only player. Her touch taunted him, made him grow harder, and he scooped her into his arms, then strode to the bed. He set her in the center and she pulled him down, opening for him, eager for him to be inside her.
Skin met skin and he held her, wrapping her in muscle and man, and Alana thought, Never in my life has it been this perfect. When he reached for the end table, she took the condom from him.
He arched a brow. She grinned and pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs. Stefan sat up. She pushed him down, then opened the packet and drove him wild as she rolled it down.
"Alana! Sweet mercy!"
"I don't think so," she said, and shifted to straddle his hips.
He grinned, loving her openness, and cupped her breasts, leaning up to take her nipple into his mouth.
Alana forgot almost everything when he did that. "Oh, Stefan, you do that so well."
"Yes, ma'am."
She smiled, kissing his face, then rose. "My hero."
He guided himself into her, and she held on to his shoulders, meeting his gaze as she sank down. He filled her, thick and throbbing. Stefan experienced more than the feel of this woman around him, of being so deep inside her. But he didn't understand it. He tipped his head back and she smoothed hair from his brow, let her fingertips stroke his face.
"Alana—"
"Shh," she said. "Not now."
She saw it, the connection that went deeper than sex. All wild and hurried eagerness was gone. The rush had died to a sweet poignancy. They had to have each other. It was as if pieces were missing and here they came together. Joined. One.
She moved, releasing him and taking him back, claiming a man she could never have. He was a mustang. Free. Noble. And she wouldn't dare try to tie him down. Or ask him to stay. Though she couldn't bear the thought of losing him when she'd only just found him. Two weeks was not enough. Yet in his eyes, in the eyes that could be cold as ice and tender as a lamb, she saw more. More than he could give. More than sex.
Stefan grasped her hips, his gaze never leaving hers as he gave her motion, never leaving hers as he pulled her down onto the bed beneath him and pushed deeply into her. Her legs trapped him and he went willingly into the snare. Her heart beat against his and he danced to the tune. Sinking. He withdrew and plunged, and she rose to greet him, to take him into her and into her soul. And when feminine flesh gripped him in a slick glove, pulsing as he pulsed inside her, Stefan knew he'd relive this night a thousand times in the future. And want it never to end.
He pushed long deep strokes that brought cries from her, brought pleasure in mounting waves. Their tempo increased, bodies moving in a damp and primal rhythm, his gaze locked on hers and refusing to let go. Flesh throbbed and squeezed; he drove deeper.
Then it came, the hot prickling rush that fought the surface of skin and bone and erupted. Sensations folded in on each other, breaking apart and coming together in a blinding moment that hung for seconds, then minutes before releasing them.
He thrust hard once and final. A claim. He watched her green eyes darken, watched her smile bloom and felt warmth spread through him. She pulled him down onto her, holding him as the rapture faded.
She whispered his name in a throaty purr, then kissed him with a power he'd never felt before.
He knew then and there he'd never stop wanting her. And that the night wasn't over yet…
__________
Stefan was true to his word. He didn't mention marriage again. But he was being a nuisance. Alana couldn't turn a corner and not find him near. And now this was going too far.
He was at the doctor's office when she'd arrived, waiting for her. He wanted to see who was caring for his daughter and butted into the examination, asking a dozen questions. That was fine. He was Juliana's father.
But Juliana had to have one of her regular shots, and when the baby cried, Alana cried, too. The nurse left them and Stefan slipped his arms around her, holding both of them close.
"She's so little and I'm letting them hurt her," she said.
His smile was filled with tender humor. "No, darlin'," he said softly. "She has to have them, you know that."
"I know, I know. I just don't want to cause her any pain."
The baby still cried and Stefan lifted her from her mother's arms, holding her tightly and rubbing her tender thigh. He murmured to his daughter, his voice a soft drone of tenderness. When the baby quieted, he handed her back to Alana.
"Well, I feel foolish," Alana said, sniffling.
"Hey, I wanted to cry for her, too," he said, walking with Alana to the front desk. "But men in my line of job don't cry—ruins the image."
"Ahh, my hero," she said.