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"How come you aren't home with her?" She liked having Desmond warm and close beside her, but under the circumstances, he probably shouldn't be here. She inhaled the earthy tang of his cologne, and studied the hint of shadow along his jaw. No, he definitely shouldn't be here. She hoped he wouldn't leave.

  He chuckled, a rich rumble that tickled her ear and vibrated through her from their connection.

  "Mrs. Waters decided to celebrate by baking chocolate chip cookies with Gillian. They haven't forgotten the disaster I created the last time I tried to help bake, and banished me as far from the cookies as they could." He turned to her, his lips inches from her face. She wished he'd close the distance between them, and claim her mouth with his own. The memory of their explosive earlier kiss filled her thoughts, blocking out everything else.

  Desmond's voice recalled her to the present. "I can never thank you enough for what you've done."

  Reliving that kiss would be thanks enough. She lifted her gaze from his lips, to find him staring into her eyes. As if he'd read her thoughts, he dropped his gaze to her lips. If she didn't stop him, he would kiss her. Her world seemed to pause, and everything hung in the balance.

  Nothing could come of deepening their relationship. He wouldn't leave his Institute. And she had her career. They'd probably never even see each other again. But as she'd told him, no one could ever really know the future. And as long as there was a possibility for a future between them, her choice was clear. She parted her lips in invitation.

  He leaned over her, his hand at her waist, and bent his head. When he touched his lips to hers, an electric thrill coursed through her.

  She leaned into him and returned his kisses, flames licking her senses. He tasted of shadow and mystery, a tantalizing familiarity she almost recognized. She opened her mouth, hungry for a deeper kiss, but he pulled away.

  Passion flushed his face, making his eyes seem almost to glow. When he spoke, his voice had a husky sound that sent shivers of desire chasing across her skin.

  "I want you, too. You're making it hard to think of anything else. But this isn't the time— "

  "The nurse?"

  "Won't be back for hours."

  "Doctors? Other patients?"

  "Deserted. Not even monitors."

  "So...?"

  She pulled his head down for another kiss, cutting off his answer. Twining her fingers in his thick curls, she pressed her lips against his, hard. Harder. She wanted no boundaries. She wanted to breathe his breath and fuse their spirits. She wanted to be one with him.

  A faint tremor shook him, and he almost pulled away. Instead, he surrendered to her kiss. He slid his lips to the corner of her mouth, pressing a light kiss there, then started a nibbling, kissing exploration along her jaw. She closed her eyes and smiled, reveling in the sensations he sparked. It felt like a parade of butterflies brushing against her skin. Warm, moist butterflies, with lascivious intent.

  He guided her back down onto the bed, so she rested on her uninjured hip. She snuggled closer, wrapping her arms around him. When he found the opening of her hospital gown and slid one hand beneath the flimsy cotton, she moaned with pleasure. His touch felt so right.

  She tugged at his shirt, hungering to touch him the way he was touching her. He rubbed her back and shoulders with warm strokes, pressing the tender tips of her breasts against his firm chest. She sighed and gave up her efforts at loosening his shirt, instead focusing on the hot rush of pleasure flowing from his hand.

  With his other hand, he brushed the hair from her eyes, sweeping around her brow and cheekbones in a soft caress that made her feel as pampered and adored as a Siamese. She nestled her face into his hand, pressing kisses against his palm and the pulse point of his wrist. He caught his breath sharply, then let it out on a shaky moan.

  "Rebecca," he whispered, his ragged breath hot and moist against her skin. "I don't want to hurt you."

  She laughed, deep in her throat. As if the pain mattered. All she cared about now was getting closer to him. She wanted to feel his bare skin against hers, hot and slick with passion. She wanted to feel his strength as he plunged into her. And she wanted to blur the edges of their identities, so that for a brief moment, they would become one.

  She arched against him, pressing her hips against the swelling evidence of his desire, and breathed into his ear, "Nothing could hurt me now."

  With a harsh sound, equal parts moan and growl, he claimed her ear, nipping and sucking the lobe. She felt him struggle to pull aside the sheet pinned between them. He could've removed it easily if they weren't pressed so tightly against each other, but neither of them would back away.

  Her hands ached to feel the silky heat of his skin beneath them, and she yanked his shirt free from his pants. Sliding her hands up beneath the fabric, she caressed the length of his back, each stroke pressing them closer together. He arched his head back with a cry of delight, and she followed up her advantage by pressing kisses on the exposed skin of his neck. She tasted his spicy-sweet cologne, and the salty moisture of his aroused sweat. But mostly, she tasted the musky, rich flavor of him.

  She swept her tongue across his neck, following a bead of sweat, then pressed a hungry kiss to the spot just below the pulse point where it lingered.

  He trembled beside her, his breathing coming in short gasps. She heard fabric tear— the sheet? Her hospital gown? His clothes? She didn't care. Neither did he.

  He pulled off his shirt, ripping it in his haste. Her flimsy gown shredded beneath his hands. They pressed together, skin to skin, rapidly beating heart to rapidly beating heart. It still wasn't enough. He kicked off his shoes, and she helped push his pants away.

  He rolled over, lifting her above him, and settled her against the strength of his arousal. He captured her lips in a savage kiss, all heat and explosive desire, and she opened her mouth, drawing him in, welcoming their union.

  His tongue plunged into her open mouth, tasting her, caressing her. She pulled, demanding more. She dug her fingers into his back, fusing herself to him. He answered her demands, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace and thrusting his tongue deeper.

  More. She needed more. She needed him.

  Anticipating her request, he slid his hands down to her hips. The tips of his fingers brushed the edge of her bandage, and he paused, twisting his head aside. His hesitancy struck her like an arctic wind, and she shivered with need. Bracing her weight on her hands, she lifted her hips and pressed herself against the heat of his arousal, rubbing against him when he still lingered.

  "You're sure?" He had barely enough breath to talk, his words little louder than a thought.

  She moved against him, letting her actions speak for her, but he refused to go on until she answered him in words. "I'm sure. You won't hurt me."

  He thrust into her, pulling her down in a shattering explosion of heat and light. She wouldn't let him take the time to go gently, grinding against him and clutching him deep within her. Darkness filled her vision, but she didn't care, straining toward a blinding light.

  He glided his lips over her neck, nipping and sucking in the same pounding rhythm. He touched the pulse at the side of her neck and she moaned in ecstasy. It was if her soul were leaving her heart and being drawn directly to his lips. She'd never experienced anything like it.

  Tremors shook her body, and with heart and soul, she reached for him. Sensations flooded her. His hard strength filled her, and she pulsed and clenched over his arousal. She felt his lips, moist on her neck, and also her sweet warmth against his tongue.

  She arched, every muscle straining for release. He thrust one last time, lifting her with the force of his stroke, and hot fire filled her. Like a wildfire burning out of control, a rush of thoughts and feelings swept over her, consuming her in a blaze of passion. She spun into space, whole galaxies whirling past her in a crazy dance. And amid all the light and movement, one sun burned brighter than all the rest. Desmond. With him as her lodestar, she found her way home.

  "REBECC
A?" DESMOND'S out-of-focus face peered down at her. He brushed his hand across her cheeks and forehead in a lingering caress. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision, and focused on his face.

  Desmond breathed a fervent, "Thank the gods." Then he gently kissed the corners of her eyes. "You gave me one hell of a scare. I didn't know what I'd done to you."

  He didn't know what he'd done? A sleepy smile pulled at the corners of her lips. If he didn't know, she couldn't tell him. She had no words to describe the wave of emotion that swept through her at their union. She'd never experienced anything like it before, and still felt shaken by its power.

  "Thank you," she whispered. He had to know what she meant. He couldn't have rocked her to her very foundation without feeling something, too.

  "Marry me," he answered. His eyes glowed with an echo of the light that had blinded her, and moisture glimmered in their corners. He'd been as affected by their lovemaking as she had.

  "I'll take that as a compliment."

  "I mean it." He cupped her chin in his hand and looked deeply into her eyes. "Marry me."

  His sincerity stunned her. People just didn't propose marriage to relative strangers, no matter how incredible they were together. If she'd succumbed to momentary insanity by making love with him, what sort of madness prompted his suggestion? She had to reintroduce a dose of reality to this conversation.

  "We hardly know each other."

  "I know you more deeply than I've ever known anyone. And you know me more than you'll admit." His velvet voice caressed each word, blanketing the statement in sexual innuendo. Rebecca tore her gaze from the hypnotic intensity of his eyes. Desmond Lacroix might be many things, but she'd never yet known him to be obvious. His words couched a deeper, hidden meaning. She was sure of it. But the way her wits had been scattered by their lovemaking, she couldn't puzzle it out.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about this." He bent his head and kissed her, a slow, lingering kiss that roused the banked embers of her passion. Scant minutes after the most profound lovemaking she'd ever experienced, she ached for his completion again. But she refused to be distracted.

  "I know that. But what else were you talking about?"

  "Rebecca." He pushed himself away, to gaze sternly at her. "There is a time and a place to be a reporter. This isn't it."

  "But I— "

  He silenced her with a kiss. By the time he lifted his lips from hers, she'd become lightheaded. But she persevered.

  "What I— "

  He dropped another kiss onto her open lips. "No." A kiss. "More." A deeper kiss. "Questions." A kiss that seemed to reach into her very soul.

  Closing her eyes and sighing, she abandoned her questioning. She couldn't recall what was so important, anyway. Nothing mattered except Desmond, and what was happening between them right now.

  He rearranged the blanket and pillows so that she nestled in a cloud of softness that supported her but still left her open for his advances. Leaning over her, he kissed and caressed her face, her breasts, her neck, her shoulders, until she thought she'd go mad from wanting him. His nearness tantalized her, but every time she reached for him, he shifted out of her way and continued his patient exploration. Giving up, she relaxed and let him have his way.

  Chapter 9

  DESMOND WATCHED Rebecca's eyes flutter closed, a gentle half-smile sweetening her expression. The first time they'd made love, she'd surprised him by reaching out to him with her fledgling telepathic gifts. He'd felt the connection too late to prevent his own surge of power from sweeping through her. The backlash could have killed her, unaccustomed to psychic powers as she was. This time, he intended to give her pleasure without the danger.

  He glided a caress down her arm, following it with feather light kisses. He lingered over the sensitive skin of her inner elbow, his tongue flicking out in a Morse Code message of submission and arousal. All the time, he listened to the constant whirl of her surface thoughts, punctuated by soft whimpers and moans.

  When she balanced on the edge of agony and ecstasy, he broke off to trail kisses down to her hand. He nuzzled her palm, and took each finger into his mouth to suck lightly before moving on. He sensed her pleasure, but there were other things she'd enjoy more.

  He lavished attention on her breasts, kneading them gently, then covering them with kisses. She whimpered, low in her throat, and he felt himself swelling in sympathetic arousal. Thoughts and images cascaded through his mind, but they were not his.

  Trembling, he struggled for control. He finally managed to separate her thoughts from his, while still leaving his mind completely open to her. He'd never lowered his defenses so thoroughly before, but that was the only possible way he could detect a gathering of her telepathic power before she used it.

  He swept his tongue over her already sensitized nipple, shivering as her pleasure flowed over him. She arched her back and buried her hands in his hair, drawing him closer. The turbulent wash of images strengthened, drawing his mind closer to hers as well.

  They were too close. He pulled free of her mental hold, then reached up and untangled her physical clinch. He guided her hands back down to the bed.

  "Lie back. Relax."

  For once she didn't argue with him, simply relaxing and trusting him to give her pleasure. He did. With his mental defenses down, he felt the building waves of desire as he caressed her stomach, pressed gentle kisses across her hips, and parted her legs. When he brushed his fingertips lightly across her, her pleasure and need rocketed to new heights.

  He lifted his head, his breathing ragged, and admired her taut body, glazed with a sheen of sweat. Her fists clenched the pillow beneath her hips, and her head lashed from side to side in time to her soft moans. A wild hunger filled him, but he fought to master it. He couldn't give in to the hunger. Not yet.

  His arousal pressed against her, and her need sliced through him. Abandoning her passive role, she grabbed his buttocks and pulled him forward as she arched beneath him. He slid inside her, feeling himself fill her. They cried out together. It was everything, but it wasn't enough.

  She moaned, moving beneath him.

  "Sh. You'll hurt yourself."

  "But I want you."

  "Then you shall have me. But gently."

  He flexed his hips, moving within her, and she gasped his name. Her nails dug into his back as she urged him onward, but he refused to be rushed.

  Beads of sweat ran down from his forehead, stinging his eyes. He blinked, unwilling to close his eyes and shut out the sight of her, flushed with passion.

  "Please, Desmond. Now."

  He slid most of the way out of her. She whimpered, and pierced his back with her nails, driving him forward to fill her again. They sighed as one.

  He withdrew, the momentary separation a painful ache until he thrust into her again. The heated slide of flesh inside flesh threatened to send him over the edge, torturing him with her mounting passion as well as his own. But her newly awakened mental powers stayed unused.

  His next stroke plunged deeper, the one after that deeper still. She writhed and moaned beneath him, an aching void ready for his fulfillment, her mind a whirling maelstrom of power. He thrust again, touching the heart of her. He recognized the first feather touch of a telepathic connection in his mind, then all hell broke loose.

  She spasmed, shaking with the intensity of the pleasure that ripped through her. His body arched, finding its own pleasure, but his mind was lost in the waves of ecstasy flowing over him. They climaxed again, their shared passion tearing them apart and putting them together again in a blinding flash of light.

  He collapsed on top of her, straining to breathe. Multicolored spots whirled in front of his eyes, and she clutched him in a bear hug. Aftershocks rocked through him, or her, or them. He couldn't tell where she ended and he began. It wasn't possible to be so close to another person, but he was, and he never wanted it to end.

  "Oh, God," he panted. "Rebecca. Marry me."


  "Yes."

  He couldn't live without her. She couldn't live without him. They were soul mates, completion.

  He pressed a kiss to her lips, hard enough to draw blood. But she didn't mind. A gentle kiss couldn't do justice to the awesome power of their union.

  When he pulled away, they were both breathless. He shifted his weight off of her, curling up against her side, and pulled the sheet back over them. Without their passion to support it, her telepathic link faded, leaving him aching for that unity of spirit. But she had the gifts. All she needed was the training.

  He dusted caresses over her shoulder and arm, unwilling to relinquish their bond. She sighed, then ruined the effect by yawning.

  He smiled at her, filled with a joyous light that demanded an outlet. Bending his head, he kissed her nose. "Somehow, I don't think this is what the doctors meant when they said you should stay in bed and rest."

  "I won't tell them if you won't." She snuggled closer and buried her face in the hollow of his neck. He breathed deep, reveling in the warm feel of her tucked against him, and stirred against her.

  He rubbed her back, long soft strokes that soothed and relaxed her.

  "Try to get some rest. Or I won't be able to visit you again."

  His threat worked. She closed her eyes, and drifted into slumber a few minutes later.

  He watched her sleep, smiling at her complete trust. She knew nothing of telepathy, or mental powers, and had no idea what they'd just done. If he tried to explain, she'd think he was lying, or insane.

  The explanations could wait. So far, she'd only used her burgeoning telepathic powers during the pinnacle of sexual experience. He needn't worry about her accidentally touching other people's minds.

  He dropped a light kiss on her temple, and felt a flutter in his own mind. He stopped. Closing his eyes, he turned his attention inward, to the telepathic union they'd shared. She'd left the mental connection wide open.

  Curious, he followed the connection into her dreams. She was replaying their recent lovemaking. He smiled as he retreated, withdrawing his consciousness back into his own mind.