"I feel distinctly narcissistic." She laughed shakily as she leaned back against him. "I think I'm embarrassed." The hair on his chest brushed her naked spine and her knees began to feel as if they wouldn't hold her up.
"You shouldn't be." His hand dropped away from her as he shrugged out of his shirt and it dropped to the floor. "Are you embarrassed looking at me?"
"No." He was a beautiful shadow figure, his supple bronze muscles silhouetted by the light, which also picked up the luster of his coal black hair. "I like to look at you."
"Then we'd better make things more equal." His hands were working swiftly at his belt. She watched dreamily as he stripped off the remainder of his clothes, tossing them in a careless heap on top of his shirt. "There, now we're even. Does that make you feel better?"
She didn't know how she felt. Electricity was arcing through her, swirling about her. His hands were running over her, pausing every now and then to stroke, weigh, twine, and rub with sensual enjoyment. Her breath was coming in little jerks as her gaze clung to the mirror reflection of his narrowed eyes.
She could feel his hard arousal pressed against her, and his chest was moving heavily with the harshness of his breathing. His hands suddenly stilled on her body, and she could feel the shudder that wracked him. His lips were a thin line of tension. "It's gone on too long. I can't wait any longer."
"Then don't wait." Her voice was trembling. Her entire body was trembling. "I can't wait either. Let's ... go to bed."
He made a sound deep in his throat. "I can't wait for that either." He suddenly spun her around, lifting her, parting her legs, and wrapping them around his hips. "Hold on to me." He was searching, finding, and then plunging with one deep stroke into the heart of her.
She cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He was moving, his hands cupping her bottom for even deeper penetration. "Closer," he muttered. "I can't get close enough to you." His hips bucked rhythmically, and she bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan. He lifted his eyes to the mirror. "Mine. You're mine." His hips moved again. "Say it. Pandora."
"Yes," she whispered. So full. Fire, sensation, an aching need for more.
One hand lifted to tangle in her hair and tilt back her head so he could look into her eyes. "You're going to belong to me forever. There will be no more talk about going away." His lips covered hers with a passion that contained an element of leashed savagery. His tongue entered, ravaged, possessed. She was possessed, a part of him, both physically and emotionally.
His head lifted and his nostrils flared in an effort to get his breath. "I'll never let you leave me now."
His arms were about her again and he was turning, walking toward the bed. She gasped. He looked down at her with a faint smile. "You like this? I thought you would." He sat down on the edge of the bed. His hands ran up and down her back, touching, exploring, savoring the smoothness of her. "You always did enjoy a good ride."
He was lying back on the bed, his hands on her hips. "Do I remind you of Oedipus now, love?" Then he was moving, thrusting, watching her to detect every ripple of pleasure that crossed her face. "Do I?" he repeated.
"No." The tension was building to such a fantastic degree that she scarcely realized what she was saying. "You're wilder." He thrust deeper, and a shiver of pleasure ran through her. "Much wilder."
"I told you that you didn't really know either one of us." His palms moved up to cover her breasts. "But you're learning fast. Hold on, love, we're going for the jump."
The approach was dizzying, and the jump itself incredible. They soared into the stratosphere and beyond. Exhilaration, beauty, reaching for the sky. Then they owned the sky as no one ever had before.
Her cheek was pressed to Philip's chest and his arms were holding her with such force she could scarcely breathe. His heart was pounding so hard it seemed to be trying to burst through the wall of his chest. "Are you okay?" she asked.
He laughed. "That's what I'm supposed to ask." He kissed her gently. "Yes, I am most certainly okay. I've never been better."
She suddenly giggled. "I'm sure that's true, but it's immodest of you to say so." She started to move out of his arms. "I'm too heavy for you. Let me go."
"No." His grip tightened around her. His tone was suddenly intense. "Stay. Stay forever."
"That might be a little awkward for you." She bent down and kissed him lovingly. "Though I'd be more than willing."
"I'll have to think about it." He rolled over, still holding her close. "There has to be a way."
She nestled nearer, her cheek finding the hollow of his shoulder. This deep contentment was almost as wonderful as the passion that had gone before. "I like this. The night of the dinner party you held me like this, but I fell asleep. Pinch me if I do it tonight. I want to enjoy every moment."
Tenderness swept over him, and he felt his throat tighten painfully. He hadn't realized how much he had missed her joyful eagerness. There had been an underlying element of reserve and uncertainty about Pandora since the night of the accident. He had been unable to overcome that withdrawal, no matter how hard he tried. He brushed his lips across the top of her head. "I refuse to pinch you, but I promise I'll find ways to keep you awake." His hand reached up to stroke the curve of her cheek. "Very enjoyable ways."
"That sounds nice, but you'll have to be pretty quick about it," she said drowsily. "I can't seem to stay awake for long these days. Maybe I should get some vitamins."
"What a demanding wench. I'll try my best to oblige." His index finger smoothed her brow. "And I'll stuff you so full of vitamins you'll be even more demanding ..." He paused. "When we get back from Marasef tomorrow."
A wedding in Marasef. At this beautiful moment it appeared wildly appealing. "You have superb timing. I'd fly to the moon with you if you asked me right now."
"Marasef will do. Raoul will have them ready the plane as soon as we wake in the morning."
"Why do I feel the invasion has already started?"
"No invasion. I'm wooing you," he said with indignation. "Can't you tell the difference? You can't deny that my wooing was successful tonight?"
"No, I can't deny it," she said quietly. "But we both agreed that sex wasn't love."
His hand moved from her cheek to tilt her chin up. "That wasn't sex, that was love. You know it as well as I do. If you're not sure that I love you now, what makes you think you'll be sure next week or even next year? We could be candidates for geriatric care before you decide to take a chance on me again. Why don't you admit—"
"All right."
He frowned. "All right what?"
"All right, I'll marry you. Marasef seems like an ideal place. I'll wear my bedouin wedding robe and—"
He stopped her with his lips, and when he lifted his head his eyes were glittering like turquoise beneath the sea. "You won't be sorry. I promise you, you won't be sorry as long as you live."
"I don't think I will." Hope was growing, along with a wild joy. She had kept that hope firmly suppressed in the past weeks, afraid that it would never be fulfilled. Now she felt as if it had unfurled like a bright banner within her. "Oh, Philip, I do love you so much." She hugged him with all her strength, pressing quick, loving kisses on hisentire face and throat. "I feel like swinging from a trapeze, or dancing, or belting out a gospel song."