When he turned back to her, Justin traced the curve of her lips with his fingertip. "I always thought I love you sounded so ordinary—until now." He replaced his fingertip with his lips, with the same gentle touch. "I love you, Serena."

She sighed as she felt him slip the jacket from her shoulders. "Justin," she murmured when he lifted her into his arms. "Hmm?"

"Let's not tell my father. I hate it when he gloats."

Laughing, he lowered her to the bed.

He was going to love her gently. It seemed right somehow when he remembered the hurt in her eyes.

She was precious to him, vital to his life, a permanent part of his thoughts. Soft and already warm, she drew him to her. He was going to love her gently, but she drove him mad.

Her hands were already pushing his robe aside, moving over his skin. Her lips were already racing over his face, nipping at his—teasing, tormenting, demanding. Justin swore as he pulled the dress down her body, and the sound of her low, husky laughter pushed him over the edge. Perhaps he hurt her; he couldn't control his hands. They were wild to touch, to possess. But she only arched beneath him, wanton, with abandon, until her blood roared like thunder in his ears. He murmured mindlessly in the tongue of his ancestors—threats, promises, phrases of love and war he could no longer separate.

Serena heard the harsh, quiet words—words both primitive and erotic when whispered against her skin. There was nothing of the smooth sophisticated gambler in him now, but something fierce and untamed. And he was hers, she thought wildly as his hands bruised over her. She smelled his rich male scent, a scent undiluted by colognes, and buried her face against his shoulder, wanting to absorb it. But his hunger would allow her no leisure. Hot and open, his mouth crushed down on hers, demanding not surrender, but aggression.

Desire me, he seemed to say. Need me. She answered with a torrent of passion that left them both gasping. She thought he'd shown her everything there was to know, everything there was to have, in their first night of loving. How could there be so much more with still a promise of secrets as yet undiscovered? He seemed to have a depthless well of energy and need. As he had from the very beginning, he challenged her to match it

He touched her, and a hundred small, violent explosions erupted inside her. As her body shuddered from them, all her girlhood imaginings of lovemaking—the tender words, the soft touches—paled into insignificance. This is what she'd been meant for: the tempest and the fury.

With mouths desperately clinging, they joined into one wild, insatiable form.

With her eyes still closed, Serena stretched luxuriously. "Oh, God, I feel wonderful!" Even to her own ears her, voice sounded like the purr of a contented cat.