ONE NIGHT ONLY

Chapter 15

Reaching between them again, Philip brushed her swollen wet sex with a whisper-light touch and her body jackknifed. Surging to his feet, he caught her before she collapsed and, kissing her, absorbed her astonished cries as she came and came and came.

He carried her to the bed. At least Rosa thought he did, but since she wasn’t entirely conscious, there was no way to tell for sure. After several seconds of convulsive pleasure so piercing it seemed to shoot from the top of her head and through the soles of her feet, the world went black and silent. The next sensation she felt was the coolness of fine sheets against her back and she roused herself because she had no intention of missing one glorious moment of his lovemaking.

Trying to catch her breath, she opened her arms to Philip, who’d already ditched his sweater. He loomed over her, a hidden fantasy come to life, and his potent masculinity staggered her—nearly blinded her. A perfect inverted triangle, his rippling shoulders and abdomen narrowed down to a flat waist. Beneath that, the heavy bulge of his arousal strained the crotch of his faded jeans. Knowing that she’d done this to the most powerful man she’d ever known was almost more than Rosa could bear.

He reached for his zipper but Rosa experienced a new surge of excited energy and touched his hand. Stopped it. "I’ll do that."

Philip’s chest began to heave and his lungs pumped like bellows.

Nothing on earth could be sexier than this man watching her with such glittering need. Feeling sensual and shameless, she rose to her knees with the grace of a cat. Arching her back, she reached behind to unclasp her bra and toss it to the floor.

Philip’s breath hitched and he went utterly still.

Rosa crept across the bed on all fours, pausing only long enough to glance up at Philip with the kind of wicked smile she knew would drive him insane.

"God, Rosa." His throaty voice was the barest whisper and all the encouragement she needed.

Giddy with excitement, she eased that zipper down—it was hard to budge it, he was so aroused—reached inside his black boxers and took his engorged length between her palms. She rolled first, then squeezed, needing both hands because of his size. Philip tensed and groaned and, just like that, the power between them made a cataclysmic shift. With feminine power surging through her veins, Rosa laughed as she took him in her mouth.

There was no time for laughter after that.

Cupping the flexing globes of his rock-hard butt and enjoying the feel of his fingers clenching and unclenching against her scalp, Rosa bobbed and sucked until his hoarse cries filled the room. She kept up the torture long past the point when her jaw and tongue began to ache, ready to torment him all night, but Philip broke away.

Feverish with excitement now, desperate and needy, the clenching between her thighs at full strength again despite the fact that she’d just had the best orgasm of her life, she rose to her knees and waited.

His gaze, wide with wonder and so wild it was almost feral, locked with hers. Several long beats passed and Rosa simultaneously wondered how on earth they had gotten to this point and why on earth they had taken so long. The spell between them, whatever it was, strengthened, and in that moment Rosa doubted she would ever be free from it.

With sudden impatience, Philip kicked his way out of his boxers and jeans and reached for a condom in his wallet, which he’d tossed on the nightstand. Falling back on her elbows, Rosa spread her legs and nearly wept with relief as he crawled over her and settled in the cradle of her hips.

Philip took the ripe plum-like head of his penis and inched inside Rosa in a slow torture that had his name pouring out of her mouth, over and over again.

She almost couldn’t handle the pleasure.

She arched and writhed, trying to get away.

She scratched his back and held on, trying to bring him closer.

It had been years, yeah, and she’d missed sex. Her supple woman’s body needed a man’s touch, and she’d never been embarrassed about guiding her husband’s hands or asking for what she required. The decision to make love with Philip tonight had been partially about that need. Partially about the explosive attraction between them and the way he’d always stolen her breath with a look. Mostly it was because he called to something elemental and undeniable inside her.

But…this thing between them, whatever it was, was vast and overwhelming and she wasn’t ready for it. Not the hot friction as her unused body stretched to accommodate him, the gentle but unyielding thrust of his relentless hips or the utter focus with which he watched her every reaction.

"This is too much." Tears collected in the corners of her eyes and though she never cried and hated for anyone to see her cry, they rolled down her temples and into her hair in an endless trickle. Sliding her hands over the warm living marble of his sculpted arms and chest, she gripped his round butt and absorbed every flex and every release of his muscles. She couldn’t open her legs wide enough; couldn’t hold him tight enough; couldn’t take him deep enough. "Too much. Too much."

With his fathomless eyes wide open, he licked his way deep into her mouth, matching his tongue’s easy rhythm to the surge and withdrawal he was doing between her thighs.

Every in-stroke seated him to the hilt and rubbed against her swollen wet lips; every out-stroke left just the tip of him inside and her greedy body begging for more and then more again.

Meanwhile, his caressing hands on her breasts, her face, her hair—everywhere they could reach—should have soothed her but only drove her up and up until her tears and her cries went on forever with no beginning and no end.

"I’ve waited for you." They were chest to chest as he spoke, the hard slabs of his pectorals abrading her nipples until they tightened down to buttons of exquisite sensation and she felt the thunder of his heartbeat and the rasp of his emotion. "I’ve waited and waited for you."

"I’m so glad you did."

"Why are you crying, sweetheart?"

"Because you feel so good. So good. I want to die, you feel so good."

A smile, slow and devilish, filled with pure masculine satisfaction, hitched up one corner of his mouth. "Why else?"

"Because I needed this." One of his heavy brows rose and her heart skipped because she knew—should have known—that he’d make her confess everything. "I needed you."

He froze, buried deep inside her. To her astonishment, she saw the sudden flash of tears in his brown eyes and one fell, splashing her nose as he kissed her again, long and sweet.

"Why are you crying?" she asked when he raised his head again.

"Because," he whispered, "You finally needed me."

There was no warning. Just a well-placed next thrust that sent her over the edge into a beautiful oblivion where spasms of pleasure wracked her, his rigid, shuddering body drove her deeper into the bed and their ecstatic cries filled the night.

After five minutes of recovery, he reached for her again.