him deeply. Where his cheek brushed against hers it became moist with the heat of her tears.
He nudged her legs apart with his knee, wrapped her in his arms, mounted her. Inexperience made him brave. Excitement made him hurry. His heart and mind were focused on only her, on Olivia and his pulsing need. He could not think past his next heartbeat, his next breath. Sliding into her moist, slick passage, he buried himself to the hilt.
Acute awareness hit him. He was inside Olivia, sheathed and surrounded by her. He could feel her sliding up and down around him, taking him in, stretching to admit all of him. She lunged up and up against him, as her hips bucked frantically.
She called out his name, urging him on. Unable to control himself any longer, he climaxed.
Olivia’s breath came in ragged tears. Noah collapsed against her, his cheek against hers, his breath hot against her ear. Shock overwhelmed her so that she could not move or think or speak.
What in the world had she just done?
When had the nightmare ended and the dream begun—the comforting dream that she now realized with terrifying clarity was indeed reality?
She whispered his name.
Looking dazed, he sat up and shoved a hand through his hair.
“Are you all right?” He leaned back on his elbow, staring down at her, watching her closely.
She could see his face clearly in the moonlight filtering through the open window. His expression was clouded by confusion and doubt, as if, like her, he had no explanation of how things had gone so far. As if he, too, doubted the reality of what had just happened.
Oh, my God. What have I done? What have I become?
He had been so strong over the past days. She was well aware that Noah would never have crossed the line if she had not led him over it. She had recognized the desire in his eyes and knew that he wanted her, and he had kept his need under control and never made a move toward her, and probably never would have if she had not wantonly seduced him in the dark.
Reeling, she closed her eyes, thinking back over the last few moments, trying to sort out the tumultuous upheaval inside her. At the end of her nightmare when she awoke in his embrace, she had wanted the safety and security of his arms to go on and on.
She could not blame Noah for what happened, for she had initiated their lovemaking. She had kissed him first, touched him first, urged him on, prompted him until he had acted on his desire. She had used him, used his desire to get what she had wanted so desperately—freedom from the memory of Darcy Lankanal, to feel cherished and protected and safe from her past, if only for a few stolen moments.
He reached out and touched her cheek where her tears had dried, and he smiled at her for the first time since she had met him. The smile transformed him, lit up his face.
“You are mine now, Olivia. You belong to me.” He sounded so certain, so sure. As if she were a treasure he had been searching for his whole life long.
Ashamed of what she had become, of what she had done and was about to do to him, she pressed her hands over her eyes. “Oh, Noah, I’m so sorry.”
Beside her, he stiffened. “Sorry?”
She dropped her hands. Looked over at him again. “I never meant for this to happen. I … I was confused.”
“Confused?”
“Yes, the nightmare …”
What could she tell him that would not make her sound like a madwoman? That she had used him to help her forget her past, and her fear, and Darcy? That she had wanted to feel him inside her, hoping to experience a rebirth as well as release? That she wanted to erase the memory of Darcy, and carry only thoughts of Noah with her when she left?
Could she tell him that something inside her hoped that what was so very good and so very honorable in him might take root in her, that his goodness might cancel out the sordid months she had spent in New Orleans?
Now he lay beside her waiting for explanations she could not give without telling him everything.
He nudged her legs apart with his knee, wrapped her in his arms, mounted her. Inexperience made him brave. Excitement made him hurry. His heart and mind were focused on only her, on Olivia and his pulsing need. He could not think past his next heartbeat, his next breath. Sliding into her moist, slick passage, he buried himself to the hilt.
Acute awareness hit him. He was inside Olivia, sheathed and surrounded by her. He could feel her sliding up and down around him, taking him in, stretching to admit all of him. She lunged up and up against him, as her hips bucked frantically.
She called out his name, urging him on. Unable to control himself any longer, he climaxed.
Olivia’s breath came in ragged tears. Noah collapsed against her, his cheek against hers, his breath hot against her ear. Shock overwhelmed her so that she could not move or think or speak.
What in the world had she just done?
When had the nightmare ended and the dream begun—the comforting dream that she now realized with terrifying clarity was indeed reality?
She whispered his name.
Looking dazed, he sat up and shoved a hand through his hair.
“Are you all right?” He leaned back on his elbow, staring down at her, watching her closely.
She could see his face clearly in the moonlight filtering through the open window. His expression was clouded by confusion and doubt, as if, like her, he had no explanation of how things had gone so far. As if he, too, doubted the reality of what had just happened.
Oh, my God. What have I done? What have I become?
He had been so strong over the past days. She was well aware that Noah would never have crossed the line if she had not led him over it. She had recognized the desire in his eyes and knew that he wanted her, and he had kept his need under control and never made a move toward her, and probably never would have if she had not wantonly seduced him in the dark.
Reeling, she closed her eyes, thinking back over the last few moments, trying to sort out the tumultuous upheaval inside her. At the end of her nightmare when she awoke in his embrace, she had wanted the safety and security of his arms to go on and on.
She could not blame Noah for what happened, for she had initiated their lovemaking. She had kissed him first, touched him first, urged him on, prompted him until he had acted on his desire. She had used him, used his desire to get what she had wanted so desperately—freedom from the memory of Darcy Lankanal, to feel cherished and protected and safe from her past, if only for a few stolen moments.
He reached out and touched her cheek where her tears had dried, and he smiled at her for the first time since she had met him. The smile transformed him, lit up his face.
“You are mine now, Olivia. You belong to me.” He sounded so certain, so sure. As if she were a treasure he had been searching for his whole life long.
Ashamed of what she had become, of what she had done and was about to do to him, she pressed her hands over her eyes. “Oh, Noah, I’m so sorry.”
Beside her, he stiffened. “Sorry?”
She dropped her hands. Looked over at him again. “I never meant for this to happen. I … I was confused.”
“Confused?”
“Yes, the nightmare …”
What could she tell him that would not make her sound like a madwoman? That she had used him to help her forget her past, and her fear, and Darcy? That she had wanted to feel him inside her, hoping to experience a rebirth as well as release? That she wanted to erase the memory of Darcy, and carry only thoughts of Noah with her when she left?
Could she tell him that something inside her hoped that what was so very good and so very honorable in him might take root in her, that his goodness might cancel out the sordid months she had spent in New Orleans?
Now he lay beside her waiting for explanations she could not give without telling him everything.
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