ecstasy.
She stiffened and her tiny internal tremors precipitated his own. Russ gave a hoarse growl of possession as he went over the edge into a bottomless well of release.
Moments later, Russ lay beside Carly, staring at her with fascination. He felt as though he’d just taken a ride on the world’s fastest roller coaster and his body hummed with the aftershocks. His emotions were in an uproar. His mind spun in circles. It was no experienced painted lady responsible for his knocked-blindsided state, he realized in amazement. It was little virgin girl-next-door Carly Pendleton.
Unlike his other experiences with sex, Russ had no desire to leave his lover. He found he wanted to stroke her hair, to cuddle her, to share quiet conversation.
Following his inclination, he reached a hand to her tousled hair. “Carly,” he whispered.
There was no response.
“Carly.” He raised up to look at her. She faced the other direction. Her lips were sensuously puffy. Her open palm rested against her cheek in a gesture of vulnerability. He nudged her one last time to no avail. Her eyes remained stubbornly closed and her breathing relentlessly even. Russ’s hellfire lover was sleeping like a babe.
The next morning Carly woke to the smell of bacon frying. Rain beat against the roof in a mesmerizing rhythm. It was a perfect day to stay in bed, she thought groggily. She snuggled deeper under the covers.
A male voice hummed the “Tennessee Waltz.” Carly’s eyes snapped open. She sprang upright in the bed. In Russ’s bed, she realized with a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. She peeked under the covers at her body, which bore several whisker bums in incriminating places, then she quickly got out of bed.
Carly hadn’t expected sex with Russ to be so overwhelming, so passionate. She hadn’t expected to beg him. Carly cringed at the memory. After knowing Russ all her life, she’d expected the fun and craziness, not such desperate need, and she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt, let alone how to act this morning.
“Hey, Carly,” Russ called from the hall.
She glanced down at her nude body and dashed into the bathroom. “I’ll be out after my shower,” she yelled, closing the door. Turning the water on full force, she resolved to present a more sophisticated, worldly attitude by the time she faced Russ.
Ten minutes later, she joined him at the table. “This looks great. I’m starving.” She tightened the belt of the borrowed terry robe almost to the point of suffocation and smiled at him.
“Good,” Russ said, and promptly planted a firm kiss on her mouth. “You look great, too, in my kitchen, in my robe, in my bed.”
His repeated use of “my” made her shift in her seat, but she decided to ignore it. Maybe it was just morning-after talk. “I like your robe. I may take it with me on Monday.”
“Nah,” Russ said, spooning eggs onto her plate. “If you took it to your apartment, you wouldn’t have anything to use when you’re here.”
That was a huge assumption, in her opinion. “I was just joking,” she said lightly.
Russ looked at her. “I wasn’t.”
Carly shrugged and bit into a piece of toast.
He lifted her chin with a finger and pinned her with his gaze. “You know, making love can change a relationship. People start thinking about permanency—”
Her throat closed just as she swallowed, and she broke into spasms of choking coughs. She gulped hot coffee and after scalding her tongue she shook her head. “Oh, no, Russ. You don’t have to worry about that. I have no intention of getting into a permanent relationship with any man, just like you have no intention of entering a permanent relationship with a woman. I have no illusions about last night. You wanted me and I wanted you. That’s as far as it went.” She smiled, extraordinarily proud of herself. She sounded sensible and practical, almost worldly.
Russ stared as if she’d grown fangs and a beard.
She reached over and
She stiffened and her tiny internal tremors precipitated his own. Russ gave a hoarse growl of possession as he went over the edge into a bottomless well of release.
Moments later, Russ lay beside Carly, staring at her with fascination. He felt as though he’d just taken a ride on the world’s fastest roller coaster and his body hummed with the aftershocks. His emotions were in an uproar. His mind spun in circles. It was no experienced painted lady responsible for his knocked-blindsided state, he realized in amazement. It was little virgin girl-next-door Carly Pendleton.
Unlike his other experiences with sex, Russ had no desire to leave his lover. He found he wanted to stroke her hair, to cuddle her, to share quiet conversation.
Following his inclination, he reached a hand to her tousled hair. “Carly,” he whispered.
There was no response.
“Carly.” He raised up to look at her. She faced the other direction. Her lips were sensuously puffy. Her open palm rested against her cheek in a gesture of vulnerability. He nudged her one last time to no avail. Her eyes remained stubbornly closed and her breathing relentlessly even. Russ’s hellfire lover was sleeping like a babe.
The next morning Carly woke to the smell of bacon frying. Rain beat against the roof in a mesmerizing rhythm. It was a perfect day to stay in bed, she thought groggily. She snuggled deeper under the covers.
A male voice hummed the “Tennessee Waltz.” Carly’s eyes snapped open. She sprang upright in the bed. In Russ’s bed, she realized with a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. She peeked under the covers at her body, which bore several whisker bums in incriminating places, then she quickly got out of bed.
Carly hadn’t expected sex with Russ to be so overwhelming, so passionate. She hadn’t expected to beg him. Carly cringed at the memory. After knowing Russ all her life, she’d expected the fun and craziness, not such desperate need, and she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt, let alone how to act this morning.
“Hey, Carly,” Russ called from the hall.
She glanced down at her nude body and dashed into the bathroom. “I’ll be out after my shower,” she yelled, closing the door. Turning the water on full force, she resolved to present a more sophisticated, worldly attitude by the time she faced Russ.
Ten minutes later, she joined him at the table. “This looks great. I’m starving.” She tightened the belt of the borrowed terry robe almost to the point of suffocation and smiled at him.
“Good,” Russ said, and promptly planted a firm kiss on her mouth. “You look great, too, in my kitchen, in my robe, in my bed.”
His repeated use of “my” made her shift in her seat, but she decided to ignore it. Maybe it was just morning-after talk. “I like your robe. I may take it with me on Monday.”
“Nah,” Russ said, spooning eggs onto her plate. “If you took it to your apartment, you wouldn’t have anything to use when you’re here.”
That was a huge assumption, in her opinion. “I was just joking,” she said lightly.
Russ looked at her. “I wasn’t.”
Carly shrugged and bit into a piece of toast.
He lifted her chin with a finger and pinned her with his gaze. “You know, making love can change a relationship. People start thinking about permanency—”
Her throat closed just as she swallowed, and she broke into spasms of choking coughs. She gulped hot coffee and after scalding her tongue she shook her head. “Oh, no, Russ. You don’t have to worry about that. I have no intention of getting into a permanent relationship with any man, just like you have no intention of entering a permanent relationship with a woman. I have no illusions about last night. You wanted me and I wanted you. That’s as far as it went.” She smiled, extraordinarily proud of herself. She sounded sensible and practical, almost worldly.
Russ stared as if she’d grown fangs and a beard.
She reached over and
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