Page 42 of Veiled Fantasies

He just smiled and pulled her left leg into a matching position. “Coming,” he promised. A word she’d lock away forever, for all her future fantasies. Like every other part of this heaven.

He teased at her entrance until she thought she’d scream, then connected once again, hitting deeper still. Gradually the naughty smile became more intent, his movement more jerky, the angle just right. She teetered on the edge of climax, desperate for it but desperate to hold on, too. Her insides were on fire, her groans hoarse. They rocked and rocked until they were two limp, smoldering heaps among the sheets.

So perfect. So right. It was only another kiss from Erik, afterwards, that kept her from blurting out the words cycling through her mind, over and over.

Love you.

Two little words, all but out if it hadn’t been for his kiss. She tried shaking the thought off, because it was impossible to fall in love over the course of just a few days. In fairy tales, maybe, but she was no princess, even if he made her feel like one. Like a goddess, even, beautiful and revered.

But in real life, she was just plain old Jill.

“Can I ask you a question?” she ventured, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Ask.”

“Why are you single?”

He laughed out loud. “You think I should be married?”

“I think you must have a line of women waiting to say yes.”

The smile waned. “I only asked one.”

So he’d come that close. With—what was her name? Anna. And the woman was dumb enough to turn him away? “She said no?”

“No,” he said, somber now. “She said yes.”

Her mind spun. She’d come a little too close to something there. What had he said that first night together? Anna had left him for another guy. Maybe he wasn’t over her yet. Maybe he never would be.

Did it matter? Jill was only Jill. She was a stopgap, nothing more.

She picked up her watch, trying to blot out those thoughts. “Oops.”

“How late is it?” he mumbled from the curve of her chest.

She showed him her watch, the one she used for all her runs.

He picked his head up reluctantly. “Oops,” he agreed. “But still early in Europe.” He dropped back down. The motion chased away all thoughts that didn’t belong in this perfect time and place.

She smiled, watching the pillow puff out around his head. “Are you saying we sleep in?”

“At least ’til morning tea. In London.” Erik wrapped his arms firmly around her. The message was clear.

Stay. Right. Here.

Jill stayed and stayed and stayed. In the end, they made it to breakfast by dawn, London time. But after all the rich tastes of her morning, the food was relatively bland.

“What are you doing today?” Erik asked over coffee as he leafed through her guide book. She wished she could fast-forward that image through an entire series of trips they might take together in the future. Only they never would.

His finger stopped on a page. “A market, maybe? The spice souk?” he suggested, peeking out from behind the book.

She shook her head, a vehement no. “Somewhere as far as possible from the spice souk.”

Erik’s surprised expression prompted an explanation.

“The guy on the plane.” She grimaced. Now she really had no appetite. She reached for a drink instead. “Remember the guy in handcuffs? The prisoner on the plane?”

“The arms dealer,” Erik corrected.

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