Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(67)

Her head dropped backward. Her spine arched with pleasure. A moan started in her solar plexus, rippled up her throat, and slid from her lips. This was how it was supposed to be. Two bodies joined as one. Her core throbbed with the beat of her heart. Inside her, she felt the echoing pulse of his erection. Any movement would increase the sensation. Her body insisted, but her mind paused. Her control was spiderweb thin and just as fragile.

Conor’s hands curled around the backs of her thighs, the fingers digging into her flesh. “Sweetheart, one of us is going to have to start moving.” His voice was hoarse, his teeth clenched as if his movements were barely contained.

She rose, sliding to his tip in slow motion, then taking him deep again.

“Jesus,” he hissed. “You’re going to kill me.”

She did it again. Her body bowed back farther, drawing pleasure from her nerve endings like the sweet friction of a violin bow on taut strings. Conor’s hands slid up to her waist. His hips surged, matching the agonizingly slow pace she set.

“Louisa.” He strained his head toward her, the effort tightening his abdominal muscles. His hand swept over her breast and collarbone to cup her jaw, urging her face closer. He kissed her, the motion of his tongue in her mouth mimicking the wet slide of their joined bodies.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Their chests met, the coarse hair on his pectorals rubbing against her breasts.

His lips moved to her ear. “I can’t get enough of you.”

With one hand pressed to the small of her back, he thrust upward again.

She closed her eyes as sensations overwhelmed her, the tension spiraling tighter and tighter in a swirl of white light behind her eyelids. From head to toe, her muscles clenched, her body tensing to the point of pain. A whimper of frustration escaped her lips.

Conor’s hand left her back to cradle her face. “Look at me.”

She raised her lids. The turquoise of his irises was nearly eclipsed by expanded pupils. She saw both pleasure and possessiveness in his gaze. What did he see in hers?

“Stop thinking, Louisa. Give that busy mind a rest.” His hand returned to the small of her back, his palm warm and sure. “Just let go. Relax. Trust me.”

His eyes held her captive.

“Breathe,” he whispered. “Feel.”

She exhaled and drew fresh air into her lungs.

“That’s it.” His smile did her in. Another slow thrust of his body pierced her control. It exploded inside her, shattered through her in electric waves of heat and light, her senses plummeting in a wild free fall that left her reeling and limp.

She felt him tense and grind against her. He shuddered twice, then relaxed. Breathing hard, he scanned her face. Sweat gleamed on his skin, and his damp hair was tousled over his forehead. She reached up to smooth her own locks, but he caught her hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it. “Don’t. I love knowing that I made you come undone. It makes me want to do it all over again.”

Oh, he undid her all right. Her heart was as wrung out as every other muscle in her body.

He pulled her to his chest. His lips brushed her temple. “Geez, Louise. My heart just about exploded.”

The giggle that sneaked from her lips felt foreign. Had she ever giggled before? Likely not since she was a child, maybe not even then. “Even for you, that was a bad joke.”

“I have some other bad things I’d like to try.” He smiled, his eyes glinting. “When I said I didn’t care about sex, I lied.”

Her soul felt lighter than before they’d made love. She’d had sex with other men, but she’d never made love with anyone else. She’d only thought she’d made love because she hadn’t known better. There would never be just sex with Conor. He wouldn’t allow it.





26


“Be right back.” He got up and went into the bathroom to deal with the condom. When he emerged, the room was empty.

“Louisa?”

The apartment wasn’t that big. He wandered toward the kitchen.

Draped in a pale-blue silk robe that covered her from neck to feet, she was filling a glass with sparkling water. Her hair was a tousled fall of blond that reached nearly to her waist. “Would you like some water?”

Conor accepted the glass. Louisa picked up her cell phone from the counter. She unlocked it and frowned at the screen.

“Something wrong?”

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with my father since yesterday.”

“He’s in Sweden, right?”

“Yes.” She set the phone down. “I call him every Saturday.”

“Maybe he went away for the weekend.”

“Why wouldn’t he take his cell with him?” she asked, a line of concern creasing her brow. “I’m worried about him. He isn’t stable.”

“What do you mean by not stable?”

Her gaze dropped to the counter. “He drinks a lot.”

Conor touched her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“When we spoke last week, he told me he was coming here for the holidays. I could tell something was wrong. I think it was the first time he sounded sober in years.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I guess.” She pulled her lip between her teeth. “But he said he needs to talk to me, and it was something he couldn’t tell me over the phone, and now I can’t get hold of him.”