He set her on her feet beside the bed and pulled her shirt up over her head. It was barely tossed aside when his mouth found that nipple and drew on it. "God," he said. "God."

Her hands were opening his shirt as she thought, This is going to happen, ready or not. She had spent about two seconds thinking about how long she had waited to bring a man into her life, her body; she remembered how afraid she'd been. But when Clay touched her she was done with that. Her body responded instantly with hard ni**les and a wetness between her legs. And she thought, oh, hell, as she unbuttoned his last button.

"Do you have a condom?" she asked.

"Exactly one," he said, unlatching his belt. "Believe it or not, I didn't plan this. But when I'm close to you, Lilly, I don't want a breath of air as much as I want you. I don't know if this has ever happened to me before."

"Bull," she said, slipping her small hands along his h*ps to lower his pants. And then she had a look at him, hard and erect, and said, "Oh, my God."

He put his hands on her hips, his fingers slipping under the soft fabric of her pants, and gently slid them down. He looked down at her as he did so. She was bare. Not just bare, but bare. No pubic hair at all. A Brazilian wax, it was called, and it almost brought him to his knees. He wanted to kneel before her and put his mouth right on her, but he promised slow. If he could.

He reached for her hand, holding it while she kicked off those soft, lightweight trousers and climbed onto the bed. He had to sit down to remove his boots, the pants that had gathered around his ankles, and fetch that condom that went with him everywhere. He put it on the dresser beside the bed, one square little package. Then he reclined beside her and pulled her into his arms. "Problem is," he said, his hand lowering to her soft, hairless center, a finger slipping in to find her already wet and ready, "I think I might come right now. The good news is, I'll be ready again before you know it, and I can keep you busy until that happens...." He applied that finger to her clitoris, making her gasp and squirm.

"Do you have to talk?" she asked him, reaching her lips to his.

He laughed softly. "I have to talk about what's happening with us. It's like magic." Then his lips were on her breast, his fingers in her, rubbing her, invading her. He moved to her mouth, back to her nipple, to her mouth, her other nipple, and all the while his hand was working its magic, fingers in and out, palm or thumb massaging her most vulnerable spot. She stiffened, threw her head back, groaned deep in her throat and he said, "Let it go, baby. Come for me." She grabbed his shoulders and obliged.

The tenor singing in the background reached some kind of emotional crescendo and the sound throbbed through Clay's body as Lilly's sweet center clenched him; her fingers dug into his shoulders, her nipple puckered in his mouth and she came. And came. And came. It lasted so long, he lost his breath. The second it seemed to begin to let go of her, he kissed his way down her body and put his mouth on her, licking, kissing, sucking. She still quivered there; she'd loosened his long hair and it fell in a canopy around her hips, her fingers threaded into it at his temples. She came again. Above the loud, thrumming music he heard her cry, "Oh, God, oh, Clay!" And he lost it. He went off like a rocket, pressing his throbbing erection against her leg, letting it come and licking her until they were both complete.

She had cried out his name. Maybe, if all his wishes came true, it was more than just sex for her. He'd hoped to perform better, but the second he had her on his tongue, there was no help for it.

He kissed his way up her body, ended on her lips, lay on his side and pulled her against him. He was breathless; she was flushed. He kissed her cheek, her lips, her ear. He whispered, "I didn't even know I liked opera." And she laughed, digging her fingers into his hair and pulling his mouth onto hers again.

Nine

Clay found a large, soft towel in Lilly's bathroom and cleaned her up with smooth, gentle strokes. He tossed the towel on the floor, pulled back the covers on her bed and they both climbed in.

"You look awfully comfortable," she whispered, snuggling up next to him.

The opera in the other room had ended, finally. At least they could talk in the hushed tones of lovers now. Clay's laughter was deep and playful. "I can honestly say that I'm more comfortable than I've been in a very long time. And I think there's even more comfort to be found--just give me time."

She combed his long hair with her fingers and said, "Tell me why you're here."

"I couldn't resist you," he said. "I've known since the second I saw you that I wanted this with you. This and more. As we got to know each other better, the hunger grew."

"I don't even know how you ended up in my part of the world. I know you and Nate are old friends, but I'm sure there are lots of old friends. Why are you working and living here?" she asked. "Just because of your sister and Gabe?"

"There's more to it than that, but that's a lot of it. I was adrift in Los Angeles. It wasn't the place for me--never was. I've worked with Nathaniel before, when he was in Southern California, before his father retired and left the practice to him. I was looking for a way out of L.A. so when he called it seemed like the perfect opportunity. And..." He paused. "Lilly, I was married. We divorced two years ago, but it didn't give me much distance from my wife. I worked for her family. It was important that I break away from that relationship."

"You almost sound as though you're confessing something," she said. She smoothed the long, dark hair over his ear. "It's not a crime to be divorced. A lot of people have been married before. I'm sorry if it was painful for you." And more quietly she added, "And for her."

"The marriage was her idea. The divorce was inevitable and also her idea. We were too different--an heiress and a common Navajo farrier. I thought I could take care of her in spite of that. About some things I can be so naive."

She smiled at him. "There's nothing common about you," she said. "Did it break your heart? The divorce?"

"Hard to tell," he admitted. "My heart was at war with my pride. I felt like I had failed her." He gave her a kiss. "But I'm done talking about that. I'd rather talk about us."

"Is there an us?"

"Oh, you know there is. Unless you'd like to talk about him. The boyfriend."

She couldn't help herself; she laughed softly. "It's not at all what you think, Clay, or I wouldn't be with you like this now. About us...?"

He took her small hand and pulled it to him; he was already becoming aroused again. "Just the beginning of us."

She reached past his shoulder to the bedside stand and lifted the little foil package. "It would be a bad idea to forget really important things," she said, ripping it open and taking it upon herself to apply the condom.

At her very touch he let out a breath. He raised himself over her, covered her lips with his, even as he separated her legs with his knees and teased her very center with the tip of his sheathed penis. He held his weight off her as he probed her. "We'll get to all the other things later. There's nothing at all complicated about this. I need to be inside you."

And she needed him there. She already felt a lovely, satisfying intimacy with him, but there was a need deep inside her that she'd ignored for so long, that need to be possessed. She didn't answer him, but simply tilted her h*ps toward him and he lowered himself carefully. Slowly. Gently. She was so small and he was so big; it brought tears to her eyes as he moved within her with such caution and care.

"Are you okay, Lilly?" he whispered. "Tell me if it's too much."

As she shook her head, a tear loosened and rolled into the hair at her temple and a little squeak of emotion escaped her. "Please," she said softly. "Oh, please, Clay. I want you. All of you."

He growled with passion so hot, he trembled to control himself. With his hands on her hips, his lips on her lips, he moved inside her with precision, deep and strong. After the first few strokes a rhythm took over and her h*ps moved against his. He was astonished at her power for one so small, so sweet. He felt her hands on his hips, pulling him into her; he had to grit his teeth to hang on. Waiting for her was going to be difficult, even when it wasn't the first time tonight--there was such a force in her supple little body. "Lilly," he said in a drawn-out whisper. "Oh, my God, Lilly..."

"Yes," came out of her like a hiss. "Yes!" With her hands plunged into his long hair and gripping him, she led his head downward, his mouth to her nipple, and he went there willingly. He sucked hard, pulling that erect little knot into his mouth, and he pumped into her with gusto, rubbing his shaft against her clitoris as he penetrated her as deeply as her body would allow. "Oh, my God, yes..." she said. And he felt it begin in the deepest part of her core, gripping him with hot, wet, desperate tightness. She dug her heels into the bed and pushed against him, locked onto him. Her legs came around his h*ps to hold him there and she shattered. It was a small but powerful explosion of ecstasy that grew and grew; she held him inside her, held his head to her breast, and she clenched him in spasms of pleasure.

Clay held on for a moment, enjoying her orgasm, then he let go and throbbed with his own release. He heard her again, in the faintest, weak whisper. "Yes... Oh, yes..."

He couldn't even force himself to leave her body so he balanced himself above her. He gently stroked her face. Her eyes were closed and there was a small smile of satisfaction on her lips. "See?" he whispered. "We can do it justice even without opera."

Her eyes popped open and she let go a big laugh.

Clay insisted on taking Lilly out for dinner, though she'd have been just as happy to pull on those soft yoga togs, stay comfortable and half-naked and finish the meal she'd started in the kitchen. He had a double purpose, he said. He wanted some meat and more condoms. Neither were items Lilly had on hand.

He took her to a Mexican place, a little hole-in-the-wall where the carne asada was fantastic and she could have her fill of beans, rice, tortillas and cheese. He wanted to know all about the man he was competing with, the man he meant to take her away from, but he used great restraint and didn't raise the subject. Probably she had things to work out about that. There might be choices and decisions that weren't easy for her. He wanted to say, "Tell him it's over and we're together now," but he didn't. They'd talk about it before too long. Until they did, he didn't want to appear a brute.

He wanted her to come to him, not succumb to him.

Instead, he asked, "How long have you been in your little house?"

"Two years. I rent it. I had always lived with Yaz and I thought at twenty-five I was past due for a little space of my own. Yaz isn't crazy about the idea, but I like it."

"He wanted you in his house forever?" Clay asked.

"Of course he did," she said with a laugh. "He might still be plotting my return."

"I was thinking how perfect that little house seemed for you. And you need your privacy."

"What I needed was independence, and sometimes solitude."

He reached for her hand. "Do you need solitude tonight, Lilly?" he asked softly.

Her eyes twinkled and she smiled. "I think I'll have solitude tomorrow. That's soon enough."

So Clay stayed the night with her and made sure she was very well loved. It thrilled him that she reached for him in the night and when he opened his eyes he saw that hers were glistening and bright; she hadn't reached out of habit, but out of desire. He was quick to reward her longing, to satisfy her. She was so hungry, it couldn't escape his notice. Hungrier even than he, and that made an impression on him. Lilly had been left wanting, and a woman with her passion and responsiveness should never have found herself in such a state.