He slowed his strokes, then stopped. She panted in his ear, still gripping him as if her life depended on it. Axel realized that he’d buried his nose in her neck somewhere along the way, so he nuzzled her, kissed her jaw, meandered with his lips over to her mouth and pressed his own to hers for a long, worshipful breath. His head spun. And even as his blood slowed, he still felt the impact of her through his system like a fucking seismic event.

What the hell had just happened?

Her eyes watered. A tear slipped from the corner and rolled down her temple.

“Hey . . .” He wiped the droplet away with his thumb. “What’s wrong?”

She smiled, something tremulous and almost sad. “Nothing. This was everything I wanted. I’m just emotional, I guess. No worries. I’m sure I’ll get myself in order shortly.”

Axel wasn’t sure he actually wanted her to. He liked knowing he could reach her on a level beyond sex. He liked the way he felt something beyond desire and satisfaction with her, too.

He caressed her cheek with his knuckles and kissed her forehead softly. “No rush. At all. Just like you, this was everything I wanted.” He gave her a sly grin. “I can only imagine how much more amazing the next time will be.”

If she hadn’t been under him, he might not have noticed her tense, yet she gave him a smile. “I can’t wait.” Then she winced and squirmed a little. “But right now, I can’t breathe.”

Axel had no illusions about his size, especially in relation to the fairer sex. For that reason, he rarely had sex on top of a woman, even though he loved the hell out of it. Despite the fact that his beauty was taller than average, she was still slight, and he still towered over her.

“Sure. Sorry.” Reluctantly, he eased from the warm glove of her pussy and sat back on wobbling knees. His world tilted, his head still spun. His legs felt like jelly. Satisfaction seeped down into his bones.

She rolled away and darted to her feet, grabbing the sheet for covering. He frowned. Now she decided to be shy?

“Um . . .” She cleared her throat. “Do you mind if I grab some water from the kitchen? My throat is dry.”

Maybe, but his bullshit meter was flaring like a motherfucker. She was up to something. He’d give her a little rope and see if she used it to hang herself . . . or bind herself to him. “Go ahead. Glasses are in the cabinet to the right of the fridge.”

Raising up on tiptoe, she kissed him for a long, lingering moment, then sent him a smile. Her heart all but bled out of her eyes, and he wished to fuck he understood the sadness lurking there.

“Are you all right?” he asked, cupping her cheek.

She looked ready to cry. “Never better. Be right back.”

Wrapping the sheet around her a bit like a toga, she hightailed it out of the bedroom and padded down the hall. Frowning, Axel shook his head and made his way to the bathroom. He disposed of the condom, splashed some water on his face, then returned to the bedroom to wriggle into his jeans.

As he made his way to the kitchen, he didn’t hear a sound. Night had fallen, and she hadn’t turned on a single light, so he flipped the switch on the wall. Her shirt was gone from the kitchen counter. He dashed over to the sectional, only to see the rest of her clothing was gone, too. She’d left the sheet pooled on the floor.

“Elise!” he called. No, it wasn’t her name, but he didn’t know what it was and he hoped to fuck she’d answer to it.

She didn’t. Had she gone?

A panic he didn’t understand began to pump through his veins as he ran to the front door, only to find it suddenly unlocked and barely pulled to. A stiff wind would have blown it open.

Axel pulled it wide and jogged down his porch, out onto the street just quickly enough to see a sleek black car he hadn’t noticed before pull away from his curb.

Chapter Seven

MYSTERY shook as she slammed the door of the town car and huddled in the backseat. The car lurched forward, and she had to force herself not to look back at his house one last time.

She’d done it; she’d conquered Mount Axel. Well, that wasn’t precisely true. He’d conquered her just by being his amazing, fabulous self. Again. In fact, she wondered if she’d ever be the same.

She let out a shuddering breath and struggled into her shoes. The simple action gave her purpose and focused her. Inside, she was a raving mess.

His taste still lingered on her tongue. His scent still filled her nostrils. She still felt him hard and massive and insistent between her legs. Every flash of memory—the way he’d tasted her, touched her, filled her—crowded her head. Before today, she’d only believed that she’d had sex. Certainly, she’d thought so before she had carelessly plotted to experience the man she’d been hung up on since the end of adolescence. She hadn’t actually considered that he might overwhelm her, that once would never be enough to ease the craving she’d long had for him.

“Are you all right?” Heath, her longtime driver and bodyguard, asked from the front seat¸ sending her a concerned stare in the rearview mirror.

No. “Fine. Can you take me back to the hotel?”

He knew her too well to believe her, and his frown deepened. “Of course. No other stops along the way?”

When she looked tousled and shaken, probably wore whisker burns on her cheeks? If the tabloids figured out she was in town and intercepted her on her way into the hotel, wouldn’t they have a field day with those pictures?

“No. I’ll order room service.” Despite how well meaning Heath was and how much she usually liked his company, she wanted desperately to be alone.

“You father has called twice, inquiring after you. I told him you were visiting a . . . friend.”

Mystery’s eyes slid shut. She couldn’t miss the hint of disapproval in Heath’s tone. Obviously, he’d caught on to her fuck-and-run routine. Of course, it must be hard to miss now since she was doing the early evening equivalent of the walk of shame. Still, he didn’t say a word, simply slipped a tiny hint of censure into his tone.

She felt it like a yawning abyss of guilt. “I’ll call him as soon as I reach my room.”

“Very good,” he said in his crisp British voice. “Don’t forget the six-hour time difference.”

A glance at the clock in the car told her it was already after midnight in London. Damn it.

“Got it. Thanks.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence back to the Hotel Crescent Court. The journey took less than fifteen minutes—not really enough time for her to get her head together. She avoided Heath’s blue-eyed stare of concern in the rearview mirror.

Her father had sent him along to both bodyguard and babysit her, keep her out of trouble. Her driver would never cross the line and question her actions—but he’d sure as hell tell her father. Marshall Mullins had never stopped being panicked and overprotective after her abduction. He had to be completely fraying at the edges with her traveling to another continent.

Just one more worry . . . but certainly not her biggest.

She gnawed on her lip as the valet attendant from the hotel approached to collect the car. Had she been clandestine enough to keep her identity a secret from Axel? She didn’t want to hurt or deceive him, and she felt more than vaguely ashamed that she’d flat-out lied to seduce him. She’d rationalized it by telling herself that she was saving them both the embarrassment of Axel refusing her again because of their past and her name.

In the hush of evening, that felt a lot like excuses.

Heath opened her door and helped her from the car as the valet attendant slid behind the wheel. Curling an arm protectively around her, Heath placed his body between hers and the street.