"No." He used his weight to pin her as she moved restlessly. "It won't be fast this time." Even as the blood pounded in his brain, he nipped at her mouth in small, torturous bites. "It's me who's filling you, Margo. As no one else has. No one else could." He moved in her, long, slow strokes. Shattering.

She could see nothing but his face, feel nothing but that glorious friction. Then the gradual, the delicious, the aching build of luxurious orgasm.

Her hands slid bonelessly off his shoulders.

"No one knows you like I do. No one can love you like I do."

But she was beyond words.

She was afraid of him. It was a staggering realization, especially in the middle of the night when she lay wakeful beside him. He'd changed something between them, Margo thought. Shifted the balance so that she felt vulnerable.

And he'd done it by showing her what it was like to feel cherished.

Cautious and quiet, she slipped but of bed, left him sleeping. The champagne was still on the table. Flat now, but she drank it just the same. She found a cigarette, lit it, and told herself to calm down.

She was terrified.

It had been a risk, certainly, to sleep with him. But one she'd been willing to take. But she'd never counted on falling in love with him. That was a dare she would have turned down cold.

Still could, she assured herself and drew deep on the cigarette. Her emotions were still her own. No matter how often or how quickly her life seemed to be changing, she was still in charge of her emotions.

She wasn't going to be in love with anyone, most particularly Josh. She didn't know anything about love, not this kind. And didn't want to.

Pressing a hand to her head, she let out a quiet laugh. Of course—that was it. She didn't know anything about love, so why was she so sure that was what she was feeling? More than likely it was just surprise that he could be so sweet and that she could be so susceptible to sweetness.

And it was the first time she'd been involved with a man she'd cared for as deeply as she did Josh. The closely twined history they shared, the memories, the affection.

It was easy, and foolish of her, to twist that all up inside and come out with love. More settled, she crushed out the cigarette, took a deep breath.

"Can't sleep?"

She jumped like a cat, made him laugh.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." The light from the bedroom pooled behind him as he stepped closer. She stepped back. "Problem?"

"No."

He cocked his head and, as his eyes adjusted, got a good look at her face. His smile spread, arrogant and male. "Nervous?"

"Of course not."

"I'm making you nervous."