Rule's Obsession by Lynda Chance Page A

remained quiet, and he said, "I think you want to come again."
    Shaking her head, she whispered, "I don't think I can."
    "No?"
    She visibly swallowed, and shook her head again.
    She might have doubts, but Damian had none as he felt her sweet, slick wetness surround him. He began taking firm, short strokes, and with every inward thrust, he hit that place deep inside of her that he knew would drive her crazy. Within seconds, she was moaning in the back of her throat. Within a minute her eyes closed and so did his.
    The fury of sexual heat consuming them both, he let his instinctive reflexes take over. He stroked her hard and deep, taking what he needed, what he felt like he had to have to keep breathing. With a last, hard, merciless pump, he thrust them both into a world of sublime pleasure. She let out a high, feminine shriek, and holding himself tightly inside her, milking the spasms of release, he followed her over the edge into a pleasure so profound, he felt stunned.
    In the aftermath he tried to clear his head, but thinking was impossible. He slid to the side, withdrawing from her as gently as he could manage, allowing her to breathe deeply. He was pulling in oxygen as if he'd just run ten miles, and before he could check the inclination, he swept her up in his arms and held her clamped to his side with one arm around her waist as he lay on his back.
    A feeling of possession swamped him, one he immediately tried to tamp down. A dark, dormant emotion from deep in his soul abruptly reared its head and he felt aggression rise in his blood. Just the simple act of pulling out of her was causing conflict in his brain; he struggled against a compulsion to not let her go.
    A thousand thoughts hit him from all sides. The fact that it had been the best fucking sex he'd ever had was the most prevalent, the memory sliding over him and even now, hardening him to a full-blown erection. The feel of her was like an addiction; she was soft and feminine and the fact that he wanted to stake a fucking claim was screwing with his heart but his head was fighting the desire. Nothing had changed and he needed to remember that. She was still wrong for him. Maybe the sex had been the best in his life, but sex didn't count for everything. He had to remember the other qualities that were important in a relationship. There was compatibility, friendship, and that ever-elusive quality that he always heard about but didn't quite believe in, love.
    What-the-fuck-ever. It didn't really matter. Those were problems he'd have to face in the long-term, but all he had to think about now was the short-term, at least for the moment. There was no question that she felt damn good in his arms, so for now, that's where she'd stay. He abruptly remembered what he'd told her when he'd been trying to get her to sleep with him. Nothing had to be serious . He knew it was a mantra he needed to live by. Even as he had the thought, he questioned whether it was viable or not. Could they maintain a casual affair with everything staying smooth sailing? As his arm clenched tightly around her, he acknowledged that he might have a certain difficulty with that. And why shouldn't it be easy to keep things casual?
    He didn 't feel casual .
    And he didn't know if it would ever be possible to feel only casual with Angie.
    ****
    Had someone told Angie a few months ago that she'd have a hard time chatting with Damian's mother, continually reiterating to the older woman that she and Damian were only friends, she wouldn't have believed them.
    But it was so true. She was having a damn hard time. It happened every time the older woman came in for a cut.
    As Mrs. Rule sat in the chair at her station, Angie couldn't help a shard of discomfiture at the lie she was perpetuating. Maybe if it had only been that one night between the two of them, it might have been easier. But it hadn't been . Maybe if it had only been a week or two of hot and heavy. But it hadn't been . It had been months . Months