Chapter Twenty
A small rapping at her door woke Rebecca from a dreamless sleep.
With a groan, she forced herself out of bed, threw a dressing gown over her nightdress, and creaked open the door to find Berab standing at her threshold, wearing merely trousers and an almost completely opened, rumpled shirt.
There was stubble on his chin, his hair was mussed, and his gaze, well, it was nearly predatory as it locked on hers.
Rebecca swallowed, even as the hum of desire awoke in her sleepy limbs.
“What are you doing here?” She rubbed her arms against the night chill.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he told her, stretching himself so he filled the doorframe, blocking her exit, now nearly glowering at her.
Something that should, if not frighten her, irritate her to no end. Except, somehow, it did the opposite. It made her want.
Both the man and whatever game he sought to play. Even if she hated games.
“I didn’t want to disturb you.” She folded her arms across her chest in a desperate attempt to calm her already aroused body.
“Well, I certainly did,” he said. “You should remember that next time.”
“Berab,” she attempted to admonish, except his name came out more like a plea than anything else.
“Red,” he returned, a slight mocking note in his voice. Though his eyes turned serious. “Please let me in,” he said, his voice quiet. “I need you.”
The simple earnestness in those three words nearly felled her. She could not say no to this, to him. Not now.
Probably not ever.
Unfortunately.
Not that now was a time to probe such a notion.
No, it was the time to once again live in the moment. The place where, when they were together, everything seemed right.
“All right,” she told him, stepping back to permit him entry. “You need me ho—” Before she could even complete the question, his mouth was on hers.
It was not an elegant kiss by any stretch of the imagination. Lips and teeth collided in a near-animalistic, as she’d once quipped, convocation.
With a moan, she could do little more than surrender to the potent hunger that seemed to envelop them both. Not that she wanted to fight it. Or him. No, even if it was wrong, this was the only place she wanted to be.
“Like this,” he panted only to break the kiss and search her face once more.
“Please,” she whimpered.
“Say it,” he commanded, his voice nearly a growl.
“My name,” he demanded. “Not my surname, the one my family took when it reclaimed our Jewishness, the other one,” he prompted, his fingers tightening their grip on the wood, as if he was holding himself back.
That he was controlling something deep and dark and powerful.
Something that thrilled her even if it should not.
For it to be hers, all she needed to do was say a single word. The one that made him an individual, not merely part of an entity. With that, he could be released.
They both could.
“Roger,” she said, raising her chin, her voice firm and clear. “I need you, Roger,” she repeated.
His eyes glowed in the dim light.
“Good, Red,” he murmured as he lifted and deposited her on the bed. Though, instead of falling upon her body as she wished, he stepped back, looming above her as liquid heat poured through her body.
“Rebecca,” she breathed as he bunched up her nightdress. “Call me by my name as well,” she moaned as he spread her legs.
His lip curled into that obnoxious smirk that she used to hate but now made her entire being yearn.
“Good god, Rebecca,” he whispered, so reverently that tears swarmed. Even if she never cried.
Not even permitting her to ponder the odd burst of emotion, he reached down and ripped her chemise down the center, cool air flooding her already overheated body.
“I’ll buy you another one” was all he said in response to her undoubtedly shocked expression. He parted her legs farther, placing one on each shoulder, settling between them.
His tongue barely touched her clitoris before she began to writhe. Soon he was relentlessly stroking the already sensitive bud.
“Roger,” she screamed while he moved a finger inside her, curling it slightly so it made contact with a small, sensitive spot that sent her soaring into oblivion. Back arching, she gripped the sheets, shudders overtaking her body.
But he was not finished with her. Again and again, he brought her over the peak, wringing orgasm after orgasm from her until she was not sure if she could remember her own name, let alone survive another.
Finally, when she was so spent that she wondered if her bones still existed, as illogical as the thought was, he withdrew, pausing for a moment before planting a single, small, nearly sweet kiss upon her forehead.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he said, laying himself down next to her.
Spinning onto her side, she propped herself up on an elbow. “It’s been less than a day.”
With the grace of a panther, the man sprang up, pinning her arms above her head, caging her body with his.
“I don’t care.” He stroked a hand between her legs, his thumb circling her clitoris, gliding down and dipping into her once again wet channel. “I need to be here,” he whispered, leaning down to nip her ear. “Now.”
“Yes” was all she could moan as her back arched nearly of its own accord. She forced herself to pause as a thought occurred to her. “Though…”
The man halted. “What is it?” he asked, concerned now etched on his handsome face.
She glanced at the bedside table. “I didn’t prepare a condom.”
“Bad Rebecca,” he joked, giving her bare bottom a playful swat then pouncing on her, kissing her once more, this time on the lips, softly but deeply. Achingly so, and something tight and hard formed within Rebecca’s chest.
Something like need.
But not for this.
For something else.
Something that he was incapable of giving her and something she was not certain she could give back herself. Or more that she could not. Not if she wanted to keep her sanity. She was not capable of living in his world, and he’d not want to live in hers, a fact she could not forget.
“You were otherwise occupied,” she managed to protest when he moved off her again, while she worked to banish the other thoughts, the dangerous ones, from her mind.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. “I don’t…”
She pushed herself up on the mattress, a plan formulating in her head. This time it was her turn to move over his body. What a body it was. Even with far too many garments for her liking.
“No, but perhaps you need this,” she whispered as she unbuttoned his falls, freeing him. Suddenly she was no longer tired. Familiar desire spread through her limbs, energizing her, as she first stroked him with her hand then bending forward.
“What are you—” he started as she took him in her mouth. “Yes,” he groaned as power surged through her, mixing with the lust now swimming over her senses. Gently at first, then harder and fast, she swirled her tongue around him, delighting in his reaction.
He did need her.
This powerful, sought-after, near prince of a man.
At least now. In these moments.
And that was something she could savor. Even celebrate.
“Oh yes,” he whispered, tangling his fingers in her hair, which had come loose from her braid. “Darling—” he breathed, and she paused.
“Who?” she asked.
“Rebecca,” he moaned.
Smiling to herself, she started again, taking him fully now.
“Yes,” he cried. “There we go—I—” Whatever else he was going to say was swallowed by his groan.
“Come here,” he murmured, pulling her to his side after he finished.
“Just lie with me for a moment,” he whispered as she placed her ear against his chest, his firm, steady heartbeats lulling her, until she fell fast asleep.