Her entire body was warming up, fast. A wave of heat moving through her, warm and alive. She could barely breathe from the heat and excitement. She could feel every single muscle in her body, feel her heart thudding, all her extremities tingling.
Desire melted her insides, spread heat between her thighs. When Mike pulled her so close her breasts met his chest, her vagina contracted. A strong pulse, unmistakable. It had never happened to her before but she recognized it immediately. Without any input from her head at all, her body was readying itself for him.
But what astonished her, excited her, delighted her was that extraordinary feeling of being alive, the life force pulsing through her, and she recognized how dead she’d felt most of her life. Somehow always at a remove from the living.
But not now. Now she was alive in every cell, connected to the earth, as human as they come. This was frightening, exhilarating stuff. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this didn’t come from her. She couldn’t make herself feel this way. She’d tried, but it had never worked.
It took Mike Keillor, watching her carefully out of those oh-so-blue eyes, potent and strong and so very very male. He was the reason she felt so incredibly alive.
The thought would have frightened her if she’d had even a minimal capacity for fright, but she didn’t. She felt alive, and strong, ready for anything. Able to move mountains. A force of nature.
Mike watched her carefully as he moved his head down, slowly, looking deeply into her eyes, trying to gauge her mood, whether she was going to object.
Was he kidding? Object? When she craved this kiss so much?
Everything about this was brand-new. An excitement so intense her breath was caught in her lungs, all that male power concentrated on her, when she was so used to being utterly invisible to men.
And the showstopper. Her own desire. Something she’d never felt before, certainly not at this level of intensity. Everything in her was quivering with anticipation.
And then—it happened.
Mike lowered his head to her, his eyes watching hers, then dropping his eyes to her mouth, the gaze so powerful it was as if he touched her mouth with his fingers.
He brought his mouth to hers, briefly, and she felt electricity crackle, was surprised lightning didn’t flash.
They both jerked a little, as if what had happened was unexpected. It was certainly completely new to Chloe, but then she wasn’t really an expert.
Mike lifted his mouth and looked down at her. His eyes narrowed, his face somber, as if he’d just received a shock, perhaps an unwelcome one.
Before she could say anything, pull back because it seemed clear he wasn’t happy with the kiss, he bent down again and there was nothing tentative about this kiss. He simply opened her mouth with his and explored it.
Another wave of heat went through her. She leaned against him to get as close as possible and it was like leaning against steel. The first time his tongue touched hers Chloe shuddered.
He must have felt something, too, because he tightened his strong arm around her back and, lifting her, walked two steps to the wall.
There was no discernible change in his breathing when he lifted a full-grown woman, one-armed. The change in breathing came a few seconds later, after her back thudded against the wall and he moved closer to her, as close as the wall was at her back, without ever lifting his mouth.
The kiss became heated, pure sex—sex with their mouths and not genitalia, but it was just as hot, just as exciting, and it had the same effect on her vagina. Each stroke of his tongue made her clench tightly between her legs, a reaction she was utterly unable to stop.
Not that she wanted to. She wanted him even closer, though that wasn’t possible. Her arms around his neck tightened and she lifted herself up to his mouth, craving the feel of him everywhere. She felt his every breath through her mouth, against her breasts as that incredibly wide chest started bellowing.
A foot stepped between hers, then two. His thighs somehow opened hers up and then his entire groin was plastered against hers and . . . oh God.
Right against her belly she could feel it. Feel him. Big and thick and hard. What was happening to her every time his tongue touched hers, was also happening to him. Where her vagina contracted, his penis moved, became impossibly longer, thicker. He was grinding against her, mouth to mouth, chest to breasts, groin to groin, setting off a friction that ignited her inside. Each move he made inflamed her more and more.
Her eyes were so heavy she couldn’t open them. Though she’d like to see his face, there was no question of opening her eyes. Her body didn’t want to see him, it wanted to feel him. Feel all that massive strength and heat, concentrated on her, feeding his heat into her.
The kiss went on and on and on, as she moved into a place without time, where there was just an endless now, glowing with heat.
Mike reached down to the hem of her skirt and placed his hand on the outside of her thigh. His hand was so huge it covered an amazing amount of skin. The skin of his palms was rough, she could feel the nylon catching as he slowly brought his big palm up and up.
His entire body jerked when he realized she wore thigh-highs. Chloe had always hated the tight restriction of panty hose and was glad of it now because when his hard palm moved up over the lace at the top of her stockings, he touched her bare flesh and she shivered, goose bumps breaking out all over her body, which was crazy because she was also steaming hot.
At the feel of bare flesh, he stilled, and lifted his mouth. Oh God, was she supposed to open her eyes? Because it was so hard to do. Almost impossible. Her head felt loose on her neck. She was upright simply because there was the wall at her back and Mike Keillor at her front, otherwise she’d fall down.
She opened her eyes when a second passed without Mike kissing her. It wasn’t easy. Her lids lifted slowly, as if lead weights were attached to them. All she could see was Mike’s face filling her entire field of vision.
He was watching her closely. Maybe to see if she’d object to him touching bare flesh?
Foolish, foolish man.
Chloe lifted herself up a little and placed her mouth on his. Mike drew a deep breath, the air coming from her own lungs, then plunged into her. It was the only possible word to describe the feeling that he possessed every inch of her.
He pulled back a second. She wondered why when cool air brushed her thighs. He’d pulled up her skirt so that when he leaned back heavily against her, she could feel every hard inch of him.
His hips pressed hard against her, thighs opening hers until somehow, as if by magic, as if by some heavenly alignment, his penis was right against her vagina, opening up her lips, rubbing against her . . . there.
She whimpered, the sound lost in Mike’s mouth. She was entirely his, completely without willpower or volition. His mouth ate at hers, his shoulders curved in to her like some powerful wall of flesh. He moved his hips against her in short, stabbing movements, hands lifting her hips against his.
He gasped, tilted his head, tongue moving deeply in her mouth. She could feel the heat of his penis through his briefs, his trousers and her own silk panties. It burned, his penis hot, moving fast, moving exactly where all her nerves were so raw it was as if he’d switched on an electrical current right . . . there.
She was on some vast ocean of pleasure, warm and honeyed and filled with joy. And then the ocean rose, lifted, became a huge wave coming at her, closer and closer, faster and faster . . .
She gave a cry that was lost in his mouth as her body exploded in a burst of heat coming from her thighs, but spreading fast throughout her entire body, her vagina contracting sharply in uncontrollable pulses so strong and sharp they were almost, but not quite, painful and spread through her, down to her fingertips and toes.
She’d shot way out into outer space and came floating back down slowly, in swooping motions. Everything that had been a heated rush slowed and cooled. Gravity reasserted itself, she felt the floor under her feet again. Eyes closed,
she sighed.
Amazing. Everything about that had been just amazing. The best experience of her life. As a matter of fact, nothing else had ever come even close.
Mike lifted his mouth from hers.
She sighed again and opened her eyes and received a shock.
Mike did not look happy. He looked as if he were in pain.
“I’m sorry,” he said tightly, and her happiness disappeared, just like that. Like flipping a switch.
“You are?” Chloe whispered, appalled.
He was sorry. Well, what was she supposed to do with that? He was sorry he kissed her, made her climax? It had been the happiest experience of her life and he was sorry?
Oh my God. What had she done wrong? Had she misread the situation? But—but he’d been the one to initiate the kiss. Had she responded . . . badly? Inappropriately? Too strongly?
How horrible, because it was one of the few times in her life when she didn’t overthink the situation. She didn’t even think at all. Her head hadn’t been involved in any way. Pure instinct had taken over, something that rarely happened to her. Never, actually.
Well, she already knew her instincts were off, didn’t she?
Even more horrible, there was nowhere she could go with her embarrassment. Her back was to the wall, literally, and Mike was plastered against the entire front of her body. She couldn’t move an inch. At least she could lower her eyes . . .
A strong, rough hand cupped her chin and forced her head up. Mike was looking puzzled. “You’re not sorry? I took it from zero to a hundred in a second.”
“Sorry? How could I be sorry?” she blurted. “That’s never happened to me before. It was wonderful.”
Mike blinked, astonished.
Chloe knew perfectly well that was not the kind of thing a full-grown woman should say to an adult male. She didn’t date much—actually, she didn’t date at all—but she read and she listened to her few friends and it was de rigueur after the age of eighteen to be experienced.
But Chloe had never really learned how to dissemble. She had no knack for it at all. The words had simply popped out of her mouth and it was too late to retract them. Too late to pull some kind of sophisticated comeback to cover her dismay.
Well, you got me off nicely, thank you. Good orgasm, definitely an A, maybe an A+. We should do that again sometime, when we’re in the mood.
Mike said, his voice rough, eyes locked on her mouth. “Jesus. If you’re not sorry, if I don’t have to apologize, then I’m really not sorry. As a matter of fact, if we don’t go now I’m going to do that again, very soon. Only we’d both be naked.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “But we have all the time in the world for that, don’t we?”
Even more than the raw almost-sex against the wall, his expression now was the sexiest she’d ever seen. This handsome, incredibly male man was entirely focused on her and sex was most definitely on his mind.
He was utterly aroused, and she didn’t need the huge column of his penis against her belly to know that. It was imprinted in every line of his face. The cords of his neck protruded, a red flush stood out under his tanned skin, his jaw muscles were clenched. His eyes were narrowed, chips of blue fire between the lids.
He stared at her, unblinking, then lowered his head.
Oh, fabulous. More of that was on the way. You don’t miss something if you don’t know it. But now that Chloe had experienced that incredible blast of energy that somehow left her lax and warm, she wanted more of it.
Sex made the world go around. She’d known that intellectually, because sex was everywhere recognized as one of the most potent forces in human affairs. It moved mountains, apparently. Lifted up teen idols, brought down presidents, inspired great works of art, moved hearts to murder.
Chloe had always thought of herself as immune to all that, just one more sign that she was destined to spend her life on the outside, looking in.
But Mike had yanked her forward. Zapped her out of her safe space. Now she’d felt even a little of its power, once wasn’t going to be enough. Not by a long shot.
Today she’d crossed some kind of invisible line. Found a brother, maybe found a lover, and joined the human race.
His lips touched hers, just barely, and already she was quivering with eagerness, nearly breathless with expectation.
A loud ring made them both jump. Mike lifted his head, frowned, bewildered.
“Your cell phone,” Chloe said gently.
“Christ,” he muttered as he pulled a very fancy cell phone out of his jacket pocket and glanced at the display. “Yeah. Yeah, Harry. Coming down right now.”
He looked down at her, a corner of his mouth turned up. “Later.”
“Later,” she agreed happily.
The entire clan lived in a gorgeous high-rise that anchored the end of a stunning white sand beach. Chloe was astounded at the sheer beauty of the place.
Nicole and Sam’s apartment was on the top floor, Harry had an apartment on the fifth, and Mike had a smaller one on the fourth floor.
When they walked into Harry’s apartment, a smiling Latina—the niece of Nicole and Sam’s housekeeper, Manuela, she was told—came out of the bedroom carrying a small bundle in a soft pink and cream blanket.
The baby was fussing, crying and wriggling.
Ellen rushed over, took the baby from the young woman and cradled her, murmuring softly. The wails grew heartbreaking.
Harry put his hand on Ellen’s shoulder and looked down at his daughter.
Chloe couldn’t help it. She stepped closer, touching the soft blanket, then cradling the child’s head in the palm of her hand. The wailing quieted, the tiny feet stopped kicking.
You’d need a wrench to tear her gaze away from the baby to focus on Ellen’s face. “May I?” She meant—May I touch her?
And Ellen, without a second thought, transferred the tiny bundle to Chloe’s arms, not realizing that Chloe had never held a baby before.
The baby fit into her arms perfectly. A small, warm, living bundle, the tiniest human Chloe had ever seen.
She cradled the baby in her left arm and pulled away the blanket from the baby’s face. When she looked down, she felt her stomach swoop, her lungs constrict, her heart plunge instantly into love. The whole world just melted away, the only real thing the warm little creature in her arms.
From a huge distance she heard Ellen’s voice, a little choked. “Chloe, meet your niece Grace Christine. We call her Gracie. Gracie, meet your aunt Chloe.”
Chloe stared down at the tiny, perfect face staring right back at her. It was astounding to see the little face so very like her own, the color of her eyes exactly like hers—a light brown that looked almost golden in the sun streaming in through the huge picture windows.
All the doctors had told Chloe that she could never have children. Her injuries had been too severe, bone fragments had severed her Fallopian tubes. She had been told this from childhood on and it was as much a part of her as her eyes and hands and feet.
She would never have children.
So she had never, ever thought she could hold in her arms a beautiful little girl who looked just like her. A dream so impossible she’d never even had it, never even thought of it.
And yet, here it was. A tiny miracle, in her arms. Grace.
Gracie wriggled a little, kicking madly, then suddenly settled, eyes wide open and fixed on her face as if upon a star. Chloe watched her perfect little face, and to the end of her days would swear that Gracie smiled up at her, a large, gummy toothless smile that simply clenched Chloe’s heart in an iron grip, never to let go.
And Chloe knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she wanted to be as much a part of this little girl’s life as her parents would allow. And judging by the pleased look on Harry’s and Ellen’s faces, that would be a lot.
Gracie’s crying wound down to gentle cooing as Chloe rocked her. She lost track of time, forgot they were expected upstairs for a meal, forgot that she should settle into her bedroom, forgot
everything as she stared into Gracie’s beautiful golden eyes, stroking her cheek, marveling that human skin could be so soft, drowning in the waves of love going back and forth between her and her niece.
Suddenly, the utter silence in the room caused her to break away from Gracie’s magnetic gaze and look up. Harry stood with his arm around Ellen, whose cheeks were wet. She, Harry and Mike were staring at her, Mike with a laser-like intensity.
“What?” Why were they looking at her?
Ellen swiped at her cheeks. “Gracie’s been fussing and crying for days now. She stopped crying the instant you held her in your arms. You have a natural way with children, Chloe.”
Wow, how wrong could a woman be? Chloe had no way with kids, none at all. She’d never been around kids, knew nothing about them. Everything she’d done with Gracie had been pure instinct.
Like with Mike.
She blushed to the roots of her hair, bending over Gracie so they wouldn’t see.
A cell phone rang and Harry’s deep voice answered. “Yep, introducing Gracie to Chloe. Yeah, they liked each other. Coming right up.”
He clapped his big hands together. “Okay, guys, Sam is sucking up all the champagne and Manuela’s food is getting cold. Chloe, honey, you can get settled in here after lunch. Is that all right with you? You hungry?”
Chloe lifted her head, surprised. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
And she was. Chloe was never hungry. In the hospital she’d sometimes been put on drips because she couldn’t eat. Even now, she ate little and rarely felt hunger. Often her stomach clenched tightly closed in protest at the thought of food.
Now she was ravenous. Mike’s kiss, the orgasm, holding a child in her arms who looked just like her—it had opened up a huge hole in her stomach and the thought of food upstairs, to be eaten with these happy, welcoming, magical people . . .
“Let’s go, then.” Harry started ushering them to the door.
Chloe looked down at the little girl in her arms. Gracie’s translucent eyelids were almost completely closed. She gave a gusty little sigh and smiled again. Chloe would swear to it.