Connie met his gaze, finding it hard to believe that was all which would be required for her wrist and arm to look normal again.
“I know it looks a little shrunken and not quite right, but a few days of sunlight and a week or two of the exercises and you’ll never know,” he continued, taking hold of her other hand.
“I hope so. Right now it looks a little weird.”
He grinned, playfully shook her good hand, and said, “Time for dinner.” He gestured to the hallway to his office.
“I’m glad you planned something that would give us a little privacy,” Connie said. When she turned to look at him, she hoped he wouldn’t notice the deep blush across her cheeks, but he smiled broadly, letting her know otherwise.
“I’m glad you approve,” he replied, placed his hand at the small of her back, and urged her down the hall to his office. He opened the door and with slight pressure at her back, urged her to step in. She walked into the room, and looked around again, noting things she hadn’t before.
Next to the small couch against the one wall there was an end table. A trio of candles and a vase of red and white roses had been placed there instead of the usual medical magazines. Behind his desk were a series of bookcases and a larger area that held an entertainment system, complete with DVD player, TV, and a docking station for an Ipod.
“Would you care for a soda?” He motioned her in the direction of the sofa.
“Yes, please.” She sank into the plush cushions of the couch as he went over to the entertainment unit and opened a door that revealed a refrigerator. He took out a liter bottle of soda, but before opening it, stopped to slip in his Ipod and get some music going.
Victor opened the bottle and poured some of the soda into wine glasses, hurried to the sofa, and sat beside her. He handed her the glass and raised his in a toast, “To a perfect time together.”
Connie smiled, clinked her glass against his, and drank. “This is tasty. Must have been a good year,” she teased. “And the music’s my favorite.”
There was a quick grin on his face. “She’s on my top ten also.” He hesitated for a second, then asked, “How’s the case going?”
“It’s too soon to say,” she said with a shrug.
“I imagine it can be frustrating,” he said, leaned back into the cushions of the couch, and placed his arm around her shoulders.
Connie nodded and tucked herself into his side, her head pillowed into the gap between his arm and shoulder. “It could be. Of course, it’s too soon to be frustrated. Ask me again in another week or two.”
“Well, for both of our sakes, I hope that you solve the case sooner rather than later. Otherwise, we might be battling a different kind of frustration.”
Connie nearly choked on her soda and barely had time to recover before he asked, “Hungry yet?”
“Famished,” she replied. But not necessarily for food.
Victor stood and helped her from the couch. He laced his fingers with hers, led her to his desk, and held a chair out for her to sit. Before he walked away, he dropped a kiss on the nape of her neck and ran his hand along the exposed, creamy line of her shoulders.
She looked up at him, her eyes growing heavy and dark with desire.
He couldn’t resist. He swooped down and captured her lips hungrily, wanting to eat off all that dangerous red lipstick she had on. Needing to taste the honeyed warmth of that full mouth.
Connie responded to the heat of his kiss with a hunger that he suspected had been building in her. She opened her mouth and slipped her tongue into his, and he savored the smoothness of her tongue and the soda-chilled brush of her lips.
Fearing he was losing control too quickly, he groaned and broke away from her, his breathing heavy. “Damn, Connie. Keep this up and I don’t know if we’ll be able to make it through dinner.”
A very feminine, very sexual thrill raced through Connie at his words. “I’ll try to contain myself, Victor.”
He groaned again as he straightened, walked away from her to pull up another chair, and uncovered the dishes with their meal. He scooped some chicken and rice onto her plate, adding a few ripe fried plantains and avocado salad. Every few scoops, he glanced at her, almost as if to make sure she was still there and not a figment of his imagination, the desire evident in his very wide, very sapphire gaze.
Despite her earlier bravado, his attention unnerved her. She looked away from him, glancing around his office again, noticing his diplomas and licenses to practice. The diplomas were all from Ivy League schools which she should have expected considering his upbringing.
Victor served himself and placed his plate along the edge of the desk. “Some more soda?”
“No, thanks. I wouldn’t want it to go straight to my head,” she replied, hoping to alleviate some of the growing tension between them.
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I wouldn’t want that either. When it happens, I’d like to think you knew exactly what was happening. That you wanted it to happen.”
She turned and her face was so close to his that his breath was hot on her cheek. “You are too sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“I am most certainly that sure of us,” he urged and rubbed his cheek against hers before shifting his mouth to nibble on her earlobe.
Connie blushed and he rushed on. “Now, let’s eat before it gets cold.”
She nodded, began to eat and so did he, but as delicious as the food might have been, all Victor could taste was her from the earlier kiss. All he could smell was her fragrance, some new perfume she had put on that was flowery, light, and totally sexy.
He managed to eat his meal and was even surprised that he finished everything on his plate. He couldn’t remember eating it and didn’t feel full. In fact, he still hungered, but not for food.
Victor looked across his desk at Connie and as her lips bit into a last piece of chicken, his need nearly overwhelmed him. After she placed her fork down, she looked up at him, and blushed at his avid perusal.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
Tightly he replied, “Nothing.” Just then the Ipod shuffled to the next song. The first notes of the song embraced them, sensuously rhythmic and inviting as the artist sang in a sultry voice about the passion between two lovers.
Standing, Victor held out his hand. “Care to dance?”
He was offering more than a dance, Connie was sure, but it was what she wanted more than anything. All throughout her meal, which had tasted like cardboard from her case of nerves, she had waited for him to make a move, give her a hint that “it” was going to happen between them. There was no better time than now, she thought, the deep alto throb of the singer’s voice vibrating through her, strumming the chords within her which were already sensitized from the man holding his hand out in invitation.
She accepted, took his hand in hers, and rose. He moved her away from the desk and into the center of his office, urging her into his arms, and Connie shifted closer until their bodies brushed against one another.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and he placed his large hands on either side of her waist. They swayed together to the slow insistent beat of the song. Her heart beat against his and the hard planes of his chest rubbing against her breasts sent a surge of warmth through her, causing heat to pool between her thighs. She shifted her hips closer, opened her legs slightly and he moved one leg just a fraction until it rested between hers, moving against her in time to the music, applying just enough pressure until Connie’s insides were throbbing, wanting more.
Unsteady, she gripped his shoulders, holding on tightly to the muscles that bunched beneath her hands.
“Touch me, Connie,” he husked and bent to whisper in her ear, tightening his grip on her waist to press her even closer, her stomach brushing across the hard ridge of his arousal as they continued dancing.
She took a shaky breath and moved her hands down beneath the edges of his jacket to roam the broad width of his chest. She cupped his pectorals, then l
eaned close to lay her head against his heart. Its beat was heavy, but sure beneath her ear. She wanted it as wild as hers, as unsteady and uncertain.
She stood on tiptoe, insinuated her thigh between his legs, and pressed against his arousal, caressing him with the movement of her body as she nipped at his earlobe. He groaned and she smiled to herself, a woman blooming with heady and newly awakened power. She trailed kisses from his ear to his jaw, nibbling at his bottom lip as he wrapped an arm around her buttocks, and brought her full against him.
“Connie. That feels so good, love,” he urged as he took her mouth almost savagely and his hands reached beneath the hem of her dress, roving across the strips of silk and skin exposed by her lingerie.
Connie gently cradled his head and forced him to look at her. “I want this, Victor. I want it now.”
During their dance, they had moved across the room, and were nearly against the far wall, close to the sofa. “Please, Victor,” Connie pleaded.
Victor groaned, wanting it as much as she, but uncertain that the frantic coupling this was leading to was what was best for their relationship. “I want our time together to be special.”
He kissed her deeply and when the broke apart, nearly breathless, he said, “I was hoping this was where we were going tonight, because I think this is what we both want. Because we know what we have together is serious. But if you have any doubts that this is only about sex ….”
Connie shushed him as she again took in the care he had taken with his office and dinner. The music was still with them in the room and it was as if the music knew better than they what to do next. She placed her hand over his heart, the beat now unsteady beneath her fingers. Rising on her tiptoes, she gently ran her lips across his, wanting for the moment to go on forever. He groaned and she deepened her kiss, urging him to open his mouth to her and when he did, she let her tongue dance with his, her body pressing closer, until they were both trembling.
Connie broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily, wanting him with every fiber of her being. Knowing that if she was without him, there would suddenly be a gaping hole in her life nothing else could fill.
“I love you, Victor. I want you, I want this,” she said to reassure him. “I don’t want to turn back, or away. I want to think that it’ll be for now and always, like you said the other night.” She cradled his cheek and he turned his face and pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand.
“For now and always. I promise, Connie.”
Victor bent, lifted her in his arms, and walked the short distance to the sofa, where he sat down with her on his lap and reached behind him for two roses, which he passed to her.
“A white rose for pure love. A red rose for passion. Neither can survive without the other,” he said shakily as she inhaled the heady fragrance of the flowers.
Connie met his gaze, surprised by the man beneath the sophisticated veneer. The thoughtful romantic man hidden deep inside. “Passion can fade with time, Victor.”
“No, lust fades. Passion is always there, below the surface.” He cupped her jaw and danced a finger across her lips. “Even when we’re eighty, even if I’m in a wheelchair, I’d still feel passionate about you.”
His words scared her while sending a thrill through her at the same time. “Victor, it’s too soon to talk about anything permanent.”
He arched one eyebrow. “You think this is only for the moment? I don’t think so.”
Connie ran her hand through his hair, and then to the back of his neck, urging his lips down to hers. “It isn’t going to be easy,” she said, even as she opened her mouth on his lips and intensified the kiss.
Victor chuckled huskily before taking a quick love bite of her lower lip. “Nothing worthwhile is ever easy. It’s always hard.”
Feeling sexily mischievous, Connie reached down, stroked the length of him with her hand. She was rewarded with his groan and the jerk of his erection as she teased, “I certainly hope so.”
Victor rolled her beneath him and braced his hands on either side of her body. He parted her thighs with one leg and shifted quickly to press his arousal against her, eliciting a moan. “Take the time to be with me, Connie. To know this will last between us.”
She dropped the roses she held onto the floor. “Promise you’ll chase me when I’m eighty?” She rubbed her pelvis against his, her breath catching at the size and heat of him.
Victor groaned and dropped his forehead to rest against hers. “If I’m not crippled first from wanting you.”
She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and slowly opened the buttons on his shirt, but he couldn’t wait. With one quick yank, he tore them open. Laughing huskily, she buried her face against his chest.
“Impatient, are you?”
When she suckled on a nipple, he bucked into her, nearly coming from the swell of emotion which ripped through him.
“Connie,” he said and groaned.
“Love me, Victor. Before I realize how insane this is,” she nearly begged and her ragged plea caught at his heart. She was afraid, her bravado a show.
“Crazy is our not being together,” he said as he ran a hand behind her neck to draw her head to his. As he explored her lips, he punctuated his kisses with words meant to soothe and arouse.
Her body moved beneath him in answer, wanting him. Wanting the union of their bodies in ways she could never express.
Victor broke away and urged her to sit on the edge of the sofa. Reaching behind her, he located the zipper on her dress and drew it down. The bodice of her dress gaped, and she reached for it modestly, holding it in place.
Victor kneeled before her, placing his hands on hers, and gently eased them away. He watched her face, the becoming blush that stained her cheeks as he slipped the small straps off her shoulders and brought the dress down until it rested at her waist. Then and only then did he look to see all he had revealed. The sight made him rock hard and he sucked in a sharp breath.
“You are so beautiful.” How he wanted to cup one full breast through the lace of the strapless demi-bra, but her small hands rested on his shoulders, holding him away as she trembled with her passion and drew his gaze to hers.
He realized then how uncertain she was of all that certain femininity. She had prepared especially for him and he wasn’t about to rush it. He wanted to finish unwrapping the rest of her present.
Victor urged her hips off the sofa and slid the dress down to reveal a scrap of lace that barely covered the dark nest of curls at the apex of her thighs and a thin, bright red garter belt which circled her luscious hips. He kept on going, drew the dress past the leanly muscled legs he had lusted after, and finally swept the dress off.
He sat back on his buttocks and paused to enjoy her. She leaned up on her elbows, her washboard stomach muscles rippling, a contrast to all her lovely feminine curves and roundness. Victor smiled, glanced up, and studied her myriad facets, the complex pieces that sometimes hid, sometimes hinted, at the woman beneath.
The independent strong-willed woman who had defied the odds and become an FBI agent. The almost innocent and needy girl who was still unsure of her worth and of her place in life. Finally, the sexy and passionate woman-child who only just now seemed to be testing her wings. All of them his to love, to nurture, and to protect.
Connie was nearly overwhelmed by the emotions on his face and the caring which called to her. From the first night they had made love, he had reached something deep within her and drawn out all those parts of her she had neglected. Made her feel, made her want, more than she ever had before.
Now she wanted him, this very macho, very compassionate man who rested on his knees before her, cherishing her with his eyes. She sat up, reached beneath the edges of his shirt, and slipped her hands onto his shoulders. His skin was hot to the touch and slightly damp from sweat. She moved to the edge of the sofa and brought her lips to his forehead. His scent was strong and intoxicating.
Connie trailed her hands down his arms, pulling off his shirt
as her hands explored the muscles in his strong biceps and lean forearms. When she reached his hands, she tossed the shirt away, twined her fingers with his, and gave their hands a playful shake.
“You may have to help me a little,” she said with a nervous chuckle.
Victor grinned, rose up on his knees, and brought their hands to his belt. He released her hands and continued to undress, but she brushed his hands away and undid the belt and his pants, drawing the zipper down slowly over his arousal.
“You seem to be doing all right so far.”
Connie blushed and pinched a spot above his open waistband, eliciting a small yelp. “Stand up,” she commanded, certain her legs would be too wobbly to support her.
He did, toed off his shoes, and did a wicked little shimmy to peel off his pants and socks, leaving her mouth dry at the sight of all his glorious tanned flesh in nothing but a pair of skimpy black briefs.
Taking a deep breath, she took hold of the waistband of his briefs and shakily removed that last piece of clothing.
Her breath hitched somewhere in her chest. He was perfect in every way and he was hers. She took a shuddering breath, looked up, and the intensity of his gaze sent a surge of heat through her.
“It seems unfair that one of us still has so much clothing on,” he said as he dropped to his knees before her again.
Connie swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Maybe I need a little help with that, too,” she tossed back.
Victor grinned sexily and moved his hands to the tops of her stockings. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He dropped a quick kiss on the exposed skin of her inner thigh and undid the snaps on the first stocking.
Connie sucked in a breath, watching in fascination as he slowly rolled the stocking down her leg. She moaned as he paused at her knee to take a small bite and finished removing the stocking. He repeated the process on her other leg and by the time he was done, she was trembling and hot. So hot she wondered how she would survive any more of this.
“Victor, I need you,” she said, wanting him to release her from the grip of his passion.
Now and Always Page 14
