Intoxicating!. Kathleen O'Reilly
nervous, too?” she asked curiously.
“Not at the moment. Tomorrow, yes. But right now, I’m good.”
“I’m good, too,” she answered.
His mouth took hers again, and he settled over her on the bed. There was another moment when his chest pressed into hers and he froze, and she swore that he was going to fly off her, but then he breathed again, and she sighed. It was very strange having a perfect man on top of her, his mouth kissing her, his hands touching her. But Catherine knew this wasn’t a dream—the ache between her legs convinced her of that—and the way he touched her, almost desperately, convinced her of it, too.
She kissed him desperately, her curious fingers tracing the lines that she had drawn on paper, but the paper was cold compared to the warmth of his skin. No painter, no sculptor, no impressionistic master had ever captured that life, that heat. She caressed the places that she had only imagined, and when she heard him groan, she smiled.
“I don’t have a condom,” he said, raising up on his arms. “I can’t believe I forgot this.”
He was leaving her? Hell, no. Instantly, pathetically, panic gave wings to her speech. “I’m on the pill. It regulates my periods. I have a heavy flow, my—”
Quickly, he shut her up with a kiss, and she really didn’t blame him. Catherine curled her arms around his neck and breathed deeply. He smelled of sandalwood and wine, and she treasured that secret smell, locking the memory safely away. She would remember this. One stolen night that she would remember forever.
“You’re sure?” he asked, and she could feel him, feel the hardness of him poised at her opening. More than anything she wanted to feel him there, inside her. She had to know how this would feel.
“Absolutely certain,” she answered and the velvety hardness plunged between her legs. Once. Hard.
Oh.
Catherine froze.
“You’re okay? I’m sorry. I’m rusty.”
He sounded so apologetic, as if this was all his fault, and Catherine quickly moved to correct that heresy. “It’s me. I wouldn’t know if you’re rusty or not.”
He lifted up again, stared. “You haven’t done this before?”
“Oh, yeah,” she answered carelessly, like four times made her an expert, and Antonio hadn’t been that good, but as her body adjusted, this felt…nice.
Daniel was large and bulky, and she loved how she didn’t feel so tall when he was on top of her.
Again he began to move, with long, easy strokes, and she was fascinated with the idea of it, until it started to feel good—no, this was great.
Her hips followed his, melding together into this heady retreat and advance. Nervously, she met his eyes because he was so quiet. She found him watching her, those careful eyes looking at her face, her mouth, with a thorough intensity that almost frightened her, if it hadn’t turned her on so much. All that—for her.
She felt his hungry gaze on her lips, wanted to feel his mouth, so she took a chance, kissing him, and…
It was exactly like before, his tongue teasing her mouth, seducing her lips, her skin, her entire being, until she couldn’t think anymore, only feel. She grasped his broad back, the hard line of his buttocks, and felt him invading her, possessing her.
Oh oh oh…
Everything turned upside down inside her, and at the moment, Catherine realized why people loved sex.
This was heaven.
He thrust deeper inside her, plunging farther, moving faster, and her blood quickened. She could feel his muscles tightening, feel her own muscles clench and unclench instinctively, in a way that she had never known.
This was better than heaven. Oh, this was so much better than heaven.
Faster.
This was—
Fasterfasterfasterfaster.
Flying. She was flying now.
Fasterfasterfasterfaster.
Ohhh….
She couldn’t speak, her brain liquid. Catherine’s eyes popped open as the world began to collapse around her.
Then she felt his hand between her legs and the world didn’t collapse, it exploded like a star, bursting into huge fiery pieces of color, and this from a woman who lived in a world of cream and beige and gray pencil slate.
Her thighs shook—in fact, her whole body shook.
No, he was shaking. Was he supposed to shake?
He cursed, but in a good way, she thought, as she felt him spill inside her. Warm, liquid, filling her.
Wow.
Wowww….
Then he collapsed on her, his back slick with sweat, his perfect chest expanding and contracting in great waves. “I’m sorry. That was too quick,” he said, his face buried in her hair.
Quick? Quick? He thought that was quick? What happened when it wasn’t quick? Good God, no wonder people got so heated up over this.
Her hand curved over his back, fascinated by the way the muscles bunched under her fingers. She loved this freedom to feel him, touch him, learn what the male body was truly like. In fact, she couldn’t wait to draw him. Completely.
“I thought it was perfect,” she said with a contented sigh.
He lifted his head, and when he looked at her, she saw something different in his eyes. The black had warmed to charcoal, his mouth curved up, smug with satisfaction. So often she’d seen that heady look staring back at her from a two-hundred-year-old canvas, or a black-and-white still photo, blind eyes that never saw her. But this man saw her.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he said, rolling off her to one side, and she missed that completeness, that weight pressing down on her.
“You’re telling me this gets better?”
“Lots,” he answered, stroking her hair. “It can be great, awesome, world-stirring.”
“That’s pretty impressive,” answered Catherine, realizing that she wasn’t a world-stirrer, and she wanted to be a world-stirrer. She loved this newfound lust for life rising up inside her. “Do you think we can make it to world-stirring?”
He smiled. “Yeah. I think we’ll get there before the weekend is out.”
And she snuggled into his chest, feeling the world transform from one-note sepia tones into full-blown impressionistic color, because before the weekend was out, they’d do this again, and Catherine’s world was already starting to stir.
4
FOR MOST OF THE NIGHT, Daniel didn’t close his eyes, but held Catherine tightly. It’d been so long since he held a woman in his arms. Forever. He didn’t want to go to sleep because he was afraid he would wake up and be alone again. That this was all a dream.
He shouldn’t have done this. He really, really shouldn’t have done this, but there was something in her eyes that made “no” pretty well impossible.
And it was that knowledge that lessened the guilt. Yeah, he’d been a creep to take advantage of the situation, but there were words for guys who walked away when they were needed most. Daniel wasn’t one of those guys.
From outside, the sounds of life began to stir. People would be waking soon, but everything here was so quiet, so peaceful. He didn’t want to disturb it, he just wanted to live it.
In the city there was so much noise,