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“I don’t think this is a good time for that conversation.” The hard angle of his nose brushed hers. Not erotic, but intimate all the same. “I won’t rush you, glika mou. We don’t have to do it tonight. We can kiss while you get used to my touch. But let me touch you.” His voice turned to a rasp. “Let me kiss all of this glorious soft skin of yours. I think about this all the time, you know. How soft and smooth you look. How your curves will fill my hands.”

Her breath hitched as he lifted to open the robe, pushing it away and sliding his touch beneath her little pajama top, palm hot and sleek against her trembling abdomen, climbing to claim her breast while his mouth found hers at last.

He drank her like an elixir that would save his life.

She didn’t know what she had expected. Awkwardness? Tenderness? It was neither. It was a tipping point, as though they were on a boat and the deck shifted and they rolled one direction, then another. As though she would fall off the edge of the earth and needed to cling to him to save her own life.

He was still a stranger in most ways. They’d only properly met when he had woken up a few days ago yet he was taking over her senses.

This was what had kept her from falling into bed with anyone before, this sense that she would lose what small part of her identity she had managed to form for herself.

But she was seduced by his hot, erotic words against her throat, telling her how much he wanted her. How good she felt against him.

As they kissed, he brushed away her robe and pajamas and rolled her beneath him so she gasped, startled to find herself on her stomach, caged by his bulk, open mouth pressed to the crook of his elbow, hands clinging to the steely arm that was bent to hold his weight braced over her.

“What are you doing?” Her heartbeat seemed to have fallen into the pit of her stomach. Her skin was as hot as his as he moved over her, body caressing hers.

“Taking my time.” His heavy thigh pinned the back of hers while he brushed her hair off her nape and set a kiss there. His erection pressed thick and steely against her butt cheek. “Letting you get used to me. This ass of yours is very alluring, latria mou.” He clenched his hand on one globe, fondling and caressing until she shook. “I want to feel all of you. I love the smell of my soap on your skin.” His chest expanded as he inhaled, damp lips decorating her shoulder blades with kisses while he petted her back and waist and palmed her bottom again, sending spiky heat into the pinch of her thighs.

She wiggled, wanting to feel more of him, but he had her in a sensual vise, immovable. Caught.

“Spiro,” she gasped.

“Is that a protest?” He lifted his hand off her backside. “If you don’t like it, say so.”

“No, I do. It’s—” The return of his squeezing hand cut off her voice, sending more of those golden jolts of sensation through her loins.

“What is it?” He moved his leg so he could trail his light touch, which should have been soothing, down the back of her thigh to the sensitive place behind her knee.

All he did was fill her abdomen with a quivering sensation and make her sob helplessly on each breath.

“This?” he asked as he bent her knee, pushing it under her so her most intimate flesh was completely at the mercy of his caress. He swore softly as he felt how wet she was. How easily she took his probing finger as he blatantly explored her. “Yes?”

She only groaned, mouth open on his arm. She sucked, wanting to bite.

He swore again, voice rumbling as he touched her with infinite patience, driving her higher and higher on the scales of pleasure, up to places she had never seen.

“Come,” he coaxed, body like a hot wall of granite against her. “I want to make you break a thousand times. With my hands and my mouth and when I’m deep inside you. Let go, Alia.”

“No. I want that,” she gasped and shifted insistently. “I want to feel you inside me. Please.”

He groaned and lifted, allowing her to roll onto her back, then he slid his legs between hers, hard knees pushing her thighs wide open while his bulk loomed and overwhelmed her.

She shook with anticipation and a fresh flash of apprehension. All her romantic fantasies about this man collided with the reality of heat and sculpted power. A deep sense of vulnerability made her hesitate while another part of her felt frantic. She wanted reassurance. She wanted it to happen. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted it all.

And she was terrified to want this much. What if it all went away? What if he did?

He gathered her breasts and dipped his head, licking at her nipples, back and forth and back again, making her twist as new, delicious sensations streaked through her.

“I can’t bear this,” she moaned. “Quit teasing.”

“Are you sure, Alia?” He rose over her and delved his hand between her thighs again, touching deeply, making her squeeze his finger and tremble on the brink of climax. “I can give you all the pleasure you want, but if that’s all you want, I’ll find a condom.”

The world tilted again. She did want the pleasure, but she also wanted a deeper joining. She wanted to be his.

“Are you sure?” she asked in a whisper.

“I am very sure.”