"Do you want me to touch you there?"

"You know I do."

"Then take my hand, Adrian. Show me what you want me to do."

Heart rocketing in his chest, he took her hand and folded it around his shaft. For a second, he thought he'd die then and there.

"Oh, so soft, so hard," she murmured, her eyes closing. He made her fingers tighten around him, and then his own lids drifted as well, grown heavy with the long-awaited heaven of her clasp. "Please tell me it feels all right."

"Wonderful," he groaned. "Oh, G.o.d, I think I have to move."

"Do," she said. "I want you to."

He scarcely needed the encouragement. It had been literally years since any hand but his had held him here. He began to thrust through her hold, gritting his teeth against the exquisite sharpness of his pleasure.

The end came quickly. He pushed through the circle of their joined hands, once, twice. Her thumb slid up the side of his c.o.c.k, rubbed the neck lovingly for a moment, then curled over to circle the head. As soon as she touched him there he was gone, instantly, like throwing a switch. He moaned as the climax ripped through him, his body clenching in a protracted agony of bliss.

He was exhausted when it finished, emptied out and unable to move a finger. When he opened his eyes she was watching him with an extraordinary amount of concern. Quite obviously, she hadn't expected him to lose control. Shame replaced his pleasure.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You didn'ta""

But she was talking at the same time. "Forgive me," she said, her fist pressed to her mouth. "I had no right to risk doing that."

Then, to his amazement, she fled the room.

Chapter 9.

Love is a storm, sneaking up on us unawares.

a""Song of the Love-Mad Rohn"

Roxanne was huddled in her bed, wrapped in her favorite robe. For once, its satiny smoothness didn't comfort her. With the sheets pulled to her chin, she stared at the ceiling mural of Adam having his wicked way with Eve. Half hidden by foliage and firelight, the beasts were procreating, too. Lions and lemurs, birds and bees. Even Snake had a happy, writhing partner. This was her own private historical re-creation, one that had never failed to amuse her until tonight.

When she purchased this building, she'd knocked down a wall to enlarge her bedroom. After a lifetime of being tucked into corners and a year in the hold of the Queen, she'd been hungry for s.p.a.ce. Now she felt like the wrong-size doll for the dollhouse. The only things big enough to fill this room were her worries.

She told herself Adrian was all right. Probably. Hopefully. She'd been convinced everything was fine, that she hadn't suddenly developed life-sucking powers. She'd adored watching him revel in her touch, but after his body convulsed with bliss, he'd looked completely drained, as if he could sleep for a week exactly where he was.

Though she prided herself on being worldlya"or at least well reada"the plain truth of the matter was that she didn't know if Adrian's reaction was normal. When push came to shove, she had no advantage over any other stupid virgin.

Any other half-demon stupid virgin.

Roxie covered her eyes and groaned. How could she have treated him as an experiment? In her eagerness to enjoy her first serious s.e.xual adventure, she'd completely ignored his well-being. That was unforgivable.

After all, she didn't merely l.u.s.t after Adrian, she liked him. She liked his comically proper manners, the way he'd blush at the drop of a hat. Max was blooming under the extra attention, and even Charles had betrayed enjoyment at having a man around. He'd always cooked, but now he was cooking up a storm, fantastic concoctions designed for health as much as savor.

If she hadn't known better, she'd have said they were acting like a family.

Too bad she couldn't afford to let herself think that way. Adrian had blown into their lives like sea spume. One of these days, he was bound to blow out again.

Focus on the happiness you have, she ordered. Don't be like your mother, always wanting what's out of reach. Except, with a little more patience, maybe she could have it all. This afternoon's embarra.s.sment didn't mean she had to give up the first man she'd wanted who wanted her back.

a.s.suming, of course, that she hadn't killed him with her demon powers.

She forced herself to sit up. She had to check on him, even if it would be humiliating, even if the chance that she'd actually hurt him was small.

She didn't know whether to be relieved or fearful when a shadow appeared at the door. It was Adrian.

"Roxanne," he said, soft and imploring. She saw he wore the gray spider-silk pajamas she'd bought to match his eyes. At any rate, he wore the bottoms.

Her heart thudded as she scooched higher in the bed. Did she dare hopea"

"Can't we do this right?" He advanced a step. "Can't we make love?"

His voice was so thrillingly low the crackle of the fire almost masked it. She couldn't answer. The air had fled her lungs. With a half-dozen strides, he reached the side of her bed and touched her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

"Can't we?" he repeated.

She wanted desperately to say yes. In the end, though, her need to be fair won out. With a sigh of resignation, she folded her knees tailor-fashion beneath the sheets.

"I wish we could," she said.

"You wish?" Adrian took a half-step back. Oh, she knew that defensive look. She'd worn it often enough to memorize.

"I don't want to hurt you," she pleaded.

"How could you hurt me? Roxanne." He sat and gathered her hand to his hard, bare chest. "Did you think you hurt me before?"

"Not exactly, buta""

"I a.s.sure you, I enjoyed everything you did."

She had to cut this short before he reminded her how much she'd enjoyed it, too. "I met my father for the first time today."

"Oh." He let her hand fall to the sheets, though his fingers still touched hers. His brow wrinkled in concern. "Was it upsetting? Would you prefer toa try this another day?"

Roxanne was at a loss to respond to that. She wished another day would make a difference. Pressing her lips together, she tried to decide how much to explain. She'd always considered herself a good judge of character, but did she dare trust Adrian with this?

"Did your father hurt you?" he asked softly, reaching to chafe her hand between his own.

The kindness he radiated made her choice.

"He's Welland Herrington," she said. "Lord Herrington. The Yamish envoy to Awar."

"Goodness," Adrian exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up. "That's quite aa buta" He blinked as what she'd told him began to add up. "That would meana""

"That I'm half demon?"

"Yes." He dropped her hand to rub his right wrist. "I didn't know that was possible."

"Neither did I until today."

He rose, raked his fingers through his hair, and stared blindly at the wall. When he turned back to her, his eyes were still worried. "That's why you wanted to know how I felt when you touched me. You thought you might be stealing my etheric-force."

"Yes, though it seems I didn't inherit that ability."

He laughed, then covered his mouth. "Poor Roxanne. You must have thought I'd expired in truth back in that bath. If I'd known, I'd have attempted to be less violent in my pleasure."

"It's not funny. The guilt was awful. I was about to check on you when you came in."

"Perhaps we should try again," he said with a suggestive lilt. "To ensure you really aren't capable ofa sucking me dry."

She had to laugh. He didn't make jokes often enough for her to refrain.

"Please," he said with endearing seriousness. "It would be my honor to be intimate with you."

She would have preferred that he declare himself wholly indifferent to who her father was, but at least he wasn't appalled. She needed no more than half her courage to nod shyly. His heartfelt sigh of relief salved a lifetime of rejection.

Tingling with antic.i.p.ation, she held her breath as he climbed over her onto the big sleighbed. Midway there, he stopped, stepped back, and loosened the drawstring on his sleepwear. His openness touched her. For her, he would overcome his natural modesty. She watched him slide off the garment, not with an artist's eye but a woman's. Despite what they'd done in the bath, his erection was full and high. Recalling what he'd said about sucking him dry, her mouth watered.

Naked now, he held out his hand to her. "I want to see you."

With a mix of fear and excitement, she slipped from the bed. She knew he found her attractive, but her appearance had never been her greatest source of confidence. It was too different from what she'd grown up believing a woman should look like. Luckily, Adrian had his own opinion. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her to face the illumination of the fire.

His eyes caressed her first, lingering on her belly and b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The coffee-and-cream satin of her robe hung heavily from their peaks. His hands rose, drifting like smoke over her curves. Nothing moved but his hands, his eyes, time itself suspended in the hush. She leaned closer.

"Not yet," he whispered. "You're so beautiful. I can't bear to rush this."

His knuckles brushed her nipples for the first time, feathering back and forth until she ached for more. He turned his palms to her, warming her, just barely squeezing. Her toes curled into the rug. She wanted to hold him so badly she hurt. His hands slid beneath the collar of her robe, easing it over her shoulders. The tie was loose already, requiring only the hook of a finger to tug it free. That done, his gaze followed the satin's fluttering pa.s.sage to the rug, then rose again to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She wished he would smile but a moment later was glad he did not. His jaw clenched, then his hands. His erection surged noticeably higher.

"Get back in bed," he ordered. His voice sounded angry, but she felt no fear as she obeyed. The intensity of his reactions thrilled her too much for that.

Her skin was humming when he finally lowered his body onto hers. Hot and thick, his s.e.x pounded between their bellies. His hard, furry chest came closer, flattening her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He stilled at the contact, caught his breath, then stretched catlike against her, seeking the perfect melding of soft and hard.

"Ah," he sighed when he'd finished settling himself. "That is so-o much better. You feel so good. We fit well."

A laugh bubbled in her chest. She'd never been this glad of her height before. She squeezed her arms around his muscled back. "My heart's beating so fast I think it's going to explode."

"Are you scared?"

He seemed surprised, but she had to admit she was.

He propped himself up to study her, and she felt compelled to touch his serious face. His cheek was smooth. He'd shaved for her. The unexpected sweetness curved her mouth.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "It's going to be good for us."

"Yes," she agreed, unable to be coy. "I think you're right." She combed her fingers through the silky waves at his nape, enjoying the delicious luxury of touch. This man, this sweetly shaven, handsome man was going to be her first lover.

He shivered, then pressed his lips to her temple. "I'm sorry about this afternoon. I didn't even kiss you."

"Kiss me now."

He smiled, then claimed her mouth, his tongue warm and probing. Weak with desire, she softened for him, melted for him. His tongue curled around hers, sucking until she was drawn just as intimately into his mouth. Even then he wasn't satisfied, but groaned and kissed her harder. Soon they were rolling from side to side on the bed, their arms wrapped around each other, their legs twining and rubbing as they fought to get closer.

She moaneda"too loudly, perhapsa"but there was nothing she could do to hold it in. He broke free at the sound, his chest heaving.

"Tell me," he panted. "Tell me what you like."

His hand circled her hip, then her belly. She could feel his fingers shaking, feel their damp, shy heat. Tears of want sprang to her eyes. That she could affect him this way!

"I want you to be ready for me," he said.

She was about to a.s.sure him she was when his hand brushed the golden curls of her mound. His longest finger slid between her slick, swollen lips.

She stretched up at him with a wordless cry.

He cradled her body closer, barely touching the pulsing heart of her pleasure. His touch was so light she thought he must be as afraid of hurting her as she'd been of him. His gentleness was exquisite. Each nerve fired separately under his delicate strokes, one by tantalizing one, like a St. Steffin's Day sparkler.

"You like that?" he rasped as if he hardly dared hope.

Yes, she said soundlessly, her cheek rubbing his shoulder. Emboldened, he caught her pearl between the pads of his fingers and worked the softer folds around the firm center.

His name became a groan.

"Yes, sweetheart. Yes." He kissed her cheek in praise, his gaze glued to her quivering s.e.x. Quite clearly, he liked the view. In watching her, he seemed oblivious to the throb of his own desire.

"Please." She tugged at his shoulder. "Please. Come inside me. I can't hold off much"a"she gasped as he brushed a sensitive spota""longer."

"Then don't." The ghost of a smile softened his harshly handsome face.

"I want you inside me," she insisted, gliding her hand down his ribs to his waist.

He pushed her onto her back. "Not yet. There's something I want to do first."

It wasn't hard to guess what he had in mind when he slid down her body and coaxed her thighs apart.

"Adriana"

"Please," he said. "I know it's personal, but I want to."

"I didn't do this to you."

He chuckled, a soft confident sound she didn't think she'd heard from him before. Still smiling, he kissed one plump lip. "It isn't a punishment, Roxie, but if it were, it would be just. You saw me at my most vulnerable. Shouldn't I have a chance for the same?"