It was as if he sensed her need to have some semblance of control. “Yes,” she said. “I want you.”

“And I want you, Lindsey.” His words were packed with emotion. “Very much. From the first moment I met you.”

“You did?”

“I did,” he said, the air around them heavy with their breathing, their desire, their shared emotions.

In that moment, she wanted to share her feelings. Wanted him to know what he did to her. In that moment, thoughts of later, of control, of beyond that moment simply didn’t exist. “I wanted you, too.”

His lips brushed hers in a soft, delicate caress. “And now?” he asked. “Do you want me?”

Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks, and then lifted. “You know I do.”

One of his hands moved to her hair, and his other slid to his erection. He slid it along her wet, sensitive flesh, drawing a whimper, then a sigh. Her eyes fluttered shut, as he teased them both, sliding his hard length back and forth like a sensual game of pleasure. One that built need and urgency, and when she thought she could take no more, he dipped the tip of his penis inside her.

His mouth covered hers, swallowing her gasp of pleasure as he slowly slid deep, until he was completely inside her, and they rested together as one. He kissed her long and deep, but slow. She clung to him, one leg moving over his, her hand going to his back.

His hips lifted and he began a slow rhythm . . . in and out, kissing her, his tongue mimicking the movement of his body. For long minutes, they clung, touched, explored with their hands, their bodies, their mouths. But then it changed. Their kisses grew hotter, deeper, and the intensity fierce. They were pressing themselves against one another as if they wanted to get beneath each other’s skin, passion gone wild, bodies moving as one, together, harder and harder, and faster and faster.

And suddenly, Lindsey was in the bittersweet climb to the top of the waterfall . . . ready to fall over the edge into satisfaction, but not wanting to let go of the moment. She called his name, arching her hips into him, as she silently begged for the moment to last.

And then it happened. The first spasm literally made her body shake, and words, even sounds, were impossible. It felt as if her body absorbed him as her own. She heard him moan, and call her name, and then he shuddered and shook. She was easing into the aftermath as he entered his moment of utter pleasure.

His head tilted back, his eyes shut.

One last lunge into her body, and he buried himself deep, his face moving to slide against hers . . . and her name whispered on his lips.

They stayed like that for long moments, pressed together, arms and legs entwined. Lindsey began to feel reality, but shoved it away. She didn’t want to think about why he felt so right or why he made her heart flutter in such a funny little way. He moved, rolling off her, but pulled her with him so that she rested on his shoulder. His arm was around her, holding her close to his side, and her hand settled in the soft hair of his chest.

And for just tonight, she wanted to pretend they were really special.

* * * * *

How long they rested, wrapped together, Mark didn’t know.

Lindsey was amazing and he wanted to hold her forever. His eyes went wide. Forever. Where the hell had that come from? He was getting way out of control, way too fast. Lindsey had him tied in knots like no other woman ever had.

She nuzzled his chest, and he found himself running his hand down her hair. “Hungry?” he asked, thinking food and a bit of distance, as much as he didn’t want it, would help him snap out of whatever spell she had him under.

“Starved,” she said, pushing herself up on her elbow so she could look at him. The movement put her bare, sexy breast directly in his line of view.

He swallowed. “If you want food, you better cover up, because it won’t take much to detour me.” Because he simply couldn’t help himself, he entwined his hand in her hair and pulled her lips to his, kissing her with slow, caressing strokes.

When he tore his lips from hers, he stared at her. “Damn woman, we better go eat. I think we both might need the energy.”

She smiled at him, soft and alluringly sweet. Very unguarded, and he praised the moment. Something told him they were few and far between. “I think you might be right.”

* * * * *

Lindsey sat on the kitchen counter, wearing Mark’s shirt, and loving the way it smelled like him. And how intimate and perfect it made her feel, wearing his clothes.

Mark moved around the kitchen, pulling out plates and glasses and pushing buttons on the microwave. Deeply absorbed in his task of heating up their take-out, he looked almost boyish. Not easy for a dominating presence like Mark.

The man was a powerhouse who walked into a room and drew attention, and even more so, respect.

“Can I do something?” Lindsey asked, smiling as his efforts. Thus far he had made her promise to let him do the work. It was as if he wanted to wait on her. Not something that seemed to fit his personality. She wanted to condemn him as just like her father, but he kept doing things that didn’t quite compute in the formula.

He gave her power where she thought he would take it.

Mark looked up from the plate he was filling, and returned her smile. “If you really want to help, you can grab the wine from the bar and fill our glasses.”

Lindsey pushed off the cabinet, happy to perform her assigned duty. A few minutes later, wine-filled glasses in hand, heading back to the kitchen, she found Mark exiting the kitchen, two plates in his hands. He motioned towards the living room with his chin. “I thought it would be nice to enjoy the view while we eat.”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded her approval. It would be very nice indeed. Fear inched into her stomach. Mark was really getting to her. Where was independent Lindsey who didn’t need or want any man? Because this Lindsey, the one following a man wearing only boxers on a sexy body into the living room, was really wanting this one.

Like beyond the night.

Lindsey sat the wine glasses on the table, and she sank to her knees. Mark put the plates on the table side by side. “Mmmm, it smells so good. I’m so hungry. Chicken Marsala?”

“My favorite,” he said sitting down beside her. I hope it works for you.”

“I love chicken Marsala. You did well.” Lindsey picked up a fork, and took a bite. “It’s terrific.”

“Or you’re just hungry,” Mark offered with a laugh.

Lindsey shrugged. “Maybe, but it tastes good, whatever the reason.”

They ate in compatible silence for several minutes until Lindsey turned to study him. “Can I ask you something kind of personal, Mark?”

He laughed. “Well, I’d say we’re about as personal as two people can get, so go for it.”

Lindsey frowned. Sex wasn’t an indicator of how well two people knew each other by her book. Granted, what had passed between her and Mark had been unique, and far more moving than pure, physical lust . . . but it didn’t make them progress beyond simple possibilities.

The chance for more between them was farfetched. And getting to know him could make her like him more. A risk she would have to take, because finding out more could also help her put things into perspective and keep her heart detached.

So, she took the plunge, and started asking questions. “Did you always know you wanted to be an attorney?”

* * * * *

Mark digested Lindsey’s question with interest. He sat his fork on the table, and looked at her, long and hard. Her question said a lot. She was close to letting down a small barrier. The very fact that she was trying to get to know him said a lot. “My father is an attorney just like yours, so I suppose some might say it was in my blood. Then again, I have a brother who’s a computer programmer, and a sister who’s a nurse.”