Page 70 of Masquerade

Her left hand slid towards his butt. She gave him an encouraging squeeze, shredding his remaining intentions to take this slowly.

Liam pressed his mouth to her ear. “I’ve got an idea to make this room less uninspiring.”

“Show me.” She leaned into him, the hint of vanilla on her skin intoxicating.

With Kate lovemaking was simple. Lust was only part of what nudged his cock hard against her belly. The sense of coming home when his body joined with hers was strong enough to rattle him.

With more greed than subtlety, he lifted her onto the table and stepped between her legs, pushing her knees wide. Her eyes opened wide as well when he snugged himself against her. He wanted her wild and panting helplessly in his arms. Burying his hands in her hair, he scattered pins across the tabletop. “You have beautiful hair.” He finger-combed the loose tresses until curls framed her face. “You’re beautiful.”

Her smile slipped as if she didn’t believe him.

He cursed whoever had made her question her desirability. And vowed to tell her more often. “We’ve been very conservative until now.”

“That’s your suit.” She pointed a finger at the business shirt and trousers he still wore.

“Let’s say we’re both conventional dressers.” Liam unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. “I plan to have you in every room of this cold, sterile apartment, so you can’t enter one without remembering what we did to each other.”

“Tonight?” she purred. Her mouth curved in an impish grin when he unzipped his trousers and pushed them and his boxers to his ankles. “You are an ambitious man.”

“Just highly motivated. Why don’t you lie back and let me look after you?” He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh.

“I think I’d like that.” She gave a low, husky laugh and eased back onto her elbows.

“You won’t be thinking when I’m finished.” His hands tugged on those pure white knickers, and he fretted at the time needed to step back and pull them free of her bare legs. “Tell me later if you remember what room this is.”

His fingers found her—wet, slippery.

She traced her top lip with her tongue; her explicit invitation slamming into him. He kissed her, open-mouthed, tasting sweet passion while his fingers built her arousal.

“Now!” she moaned. Her legs rose to link around his back, and he scrambled for the rubbers in his discarded trousers.

Sheathed, Liam stepped between her thighs and buried himself in her. Time stopped. His mind blanked. His body was all jagged nerve endings, slick skin and laboured breathing. He was unprepared for the tsunami of need pounding him.

* * *

Excitement raced likewildfire through Kate’s blood. Her breath pumped in time with his, her inhalations shallow, her exhalations ragged. He was naked; she was almost fully clothed. He gave her that, made himself vulnerable; a taking and ceding of power that cherished her.

She clutched his buttocks, grasping for sanity as he rocked her to ecstasy. Her inner muscles clenched to keep him buried deep inside her; to make this loving last forever. Perspiration rolled down his back, making her fingers as slick as his movements. She locked her hands on his forearms as his thrusts grew more urgent. Her heart soared to see him reaching for control, determined to prolong her pleasure. He grunted, his arm muscles tight cords of restraint. Her orgasm ricocheted through her, leaving her boneless and awash with tenderness.

He swallowed her cry of release, and her heart overflowed with the desperate need to simply love him. Cupping his jaw, she met his heated gaze.

“Come with me this time.” In her head, Kate added the wordsmy love.Air roared in her ears. Pleasure rushed through her while he bucked to his climax with her.

His head rested against her forehead, his hands braced on either side of her to take his weight. The scent of orgasm mixed with the salty taste of her own sweat, the touch of his sweat-slickened skin, and Kate couldn’t breathe.

She wasn’t falling for him. She loved him. With a capital L, with bells and whistles and breath-stealing certainty. The warm sound of the wailing sax tore at her heart.

Enjoy the moment.

No commitments.

Not telling him the truth about herself made no commitments a self-fulfilling prophecy. The insight slammed into her with devastating force. Anna was right.

She’d had opportunities to explain why she was on the billboard, about her writing, about the cottage. Lies of omission, all driven by her belief that no man could love who she was. She hadn’t trusted herself and, by extension, hadn’t trusted him. If he knew the extent of her deception, he’d never forgive her. She closed her eyes.

There’s no good lie. A lover’s lie destroys trust.

She’d betrayed him before understanding she was in love with him.

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