“What about surrender?” he asked.

The room sizzled with unspoken tension. “What about it? If you’re in control, you don’t have to surrender.”

“You make the concept sound like a bad thing, Miranda.” His voice raked across her ears in a caress. “Take passion. Two people who voluntarily give up their control to achieve a greater pleasure.”

The air grew thick and humid, and she struggled to take a deep breath. Intimacy simmered under the surface all night, and tipped on the edge of raging out of control. Miranda knew the conversation had been guided into dangerous territory. She paused on the verge of retreat, not sure how deep she wanted to dive. But he placed the snifter down on the glass tabletop and shifted his weight. The gap between them closed another inch. She fought to keep from studying the intriguing line of golden hair that began at his upper chest and disappeared behind the knit shirt. Her fingers flexed.

He continued, his voice weaving its spell of shot-silk and gravel. “That’s another reason the opera calls to you. You allow yourself to let go to the magic of the music and passion and messiness.”

She forced herself to answer. “Ah, but great opera is based on rigid control. Notes must be ruthlessly adhered to or the entire production falls apart. It’s also a reminder surrender is dangerous. Pleasure can be great, but the pain afterward reminds us that life is better when a person is in control. As shown in Pagliacci this evening.”

One blunt fingertip traced the line of her jaw. His spicy scent teased her senses. “Not better,” he murmured. “Just safe.”

“There’s nothing wrong with safety.”

“There’s nothing wrong with surrender,” he said.

Blue eyes flared like a beginning tropical storm. Her lower lip trembled as he leaned in and closed the distance. The simple need burst into monstrous proportions, until her mind lost the battle. And why not? Why not surrender her body on her own terms? She still owned her fate. This time, she’d give only her body to Gavin Luciano, not her mind or heart or soul.

This time, she wouldn’t fall in love with him.

This time, she’d be prepared for him to walk away. Safe.

His warm breath rushed over her parted lips. “If you had a choice to make tonight, would you, Red? Or would you step back and be safe, making no decision at all?”

The opera and her past and his touch spun together and dragged her under. She reached out and gripped his shoulders, digging her nails fiercely into the hard muscles. “This is my choice,” she whispered fiercely. “This is about sex, pure and simple. I admit I want you tonight, but it changes nothing between us. I’m not rewriting a second review, no matter how good the orgasm is.”

A flash of pain flared in his eyes, then quickly disappeared. “It will change everything between us.” His finger gently stroked her cheek.

“I won’t do the review.”

“I don’t care about the review.” The tenderness turned, and he thrust all ten fingers into her hair and forced her head back. “I care about this.”

His mouth took hers. Rough and primitive, he thrust his tongue deep inside and took. A moan rose in her throat and she gave herself up to him as he plundered her mouth and every dark secret she kept. She arched up and invited him to take more, halfway drunk on the taste and feel of pure male need.

He pushed her deep into the pillows. One thigh parted her legs wide for free access. Her breasts swelled in anticipation, and she reached out to tug ineffectively at his shirt, her hands trembling as she tried to undo the buttons.

“Take it off,” he ground out. His teeth nipped at her lower lip, then bathed the swollen flesh with his tongue.

“I’m trying, but you have to pull the shirt over your head.” Again, she tugged, and had a quick impulse to tear and see if the material parted like she’d heard at those male stripper shows.

“No, the dress.” His hands coasted down her body and rested on her ribcage. His thumbs brushed the tips of her breasts and coaxed them to rise even more under the fabric. “I can’t find the damn zipper, and in about three seconds I’m just going to rip.”

“I’ll lift up and you unzip it. But only if you take off your shirt.”

“Deal.”

He divested the dress from her body in one swoop, leaving her clad in black lace underwear and silk stockings. He sucked in his breath and Miranda caught the gleam of appreciation that made her burn even hotter.

“Crap, I want you so bad. I keep remembering your face when you come, how sweet and hot and wet you are.”

His steel-blue gaze raked over every inch of skin until her panties grew damp. “Please.”

“Oh, I intend to, baby.” He tore the shirt off and lowered himself over her. The soft velvety feel of the sofa cushioned her back. The hard length of his erection throbbed against her thigh. He leaned over and brushed his lips over one tight crest, playing, teasing, until he opened his mouth and sucked.

She gasped and threw her head back. He moved to the other breast, licking with firm movements that drove her toward the edge of insanity. “Not tonight,” she tore out. “Gavin, don’t tease me tonight. I want you now.”

He muttered something under his breath—either a curse or a prayer—and pressed his palm over her throbbing center. “You’re making me crazy. God, Miranda, make me take you to bed. I can’t hold out much longer.”

“No, right here.” She ripped at his belt and the rasp of the zipper echoed in the air.

“I was supposed to take this slow, make it perfect for you.” He seemed to struggle and lose the battle as he slipped one finger under the elastic edge of her panties. “I was supposed to give you foreplay.” He plunged deep, and liquid warmth rushed past to ease his entrance. She cried out at the pulses of pleasure. “I was supposed to seduce you slowly until you begged me to take you, and you couldn’t give a damn about the past.” His thumb rubbed over the swollen nub with a steady pressure. Sobs escaped her lips and she reached out to wrap her fingers around his penis, guiding him closer.

“Now.” She arched up as he did something incredibly erotic between her thighs. “I can’t wait. Damn you, take me now.”

He swore savagely. “Jesus, let that condom still be in my frickin’ pocket.” He reached over and grabbed his pants, tearing through the material until the foil package fell out. In seconds, he was sheathed.

He tugged down her panties and removed his fingers. Rearing up and spreading her legs wide, he poised at her entrance. A tiny gleam of truth pierced through the fogginess, reminding her he was about to re-claim a part of her she’d thought to keep separate. Fear choked her and she moved to push him away, her mouth open to tell him no.

But it was too late.

Gavin surged inside of her with one strong thrust.

Fire.

Fullness.

Completion.

He interlaced his fingers through hers. Stared deeply into her eyes. And moved. Again. And again.

With each thrust he took her toward the edge, until every inner muscle clenched and squeezed him tight inside her. The journey was familiar, but this time he held her gaze every step of the way, giving himself as freely as she had given her own self three years ago. The last fragile wall trembled precariously, but she fought with a fierceness she taught herself to cultivate since he left her. The emotions raged between them, pushing them forward, and then the orgasm hit. Fragments of pleasure exploded around her. She cried out and held on, and soon his hoarse shout echoed in the air as they slipped over the edge together.

Miranda knew then she’d lied to herself.

She was still in love with him.

…

Gavin cradled her in his arms and pressed a kiss against her temple. Limbs intertwined, they lay together on the sofa and drifted lazily in and out of sleep. He’d made a half-hearted attempt to make it to the bedroom, but his lady only murmured something unintelligible and snuggled closer. He decided to give up the battle. Besides, the close quarters allowed him to cushion every part of her delicious body relaxed against him.

He buried his face in a mass of fiery waves and breathed in the scent of strawberries. Making love to Miranda Storme was an experience that changed a man forever. He grew hard again at the image of her head thrown back in passion, her slick heat dampening him as he thrust inside her body, the cries he wrung from her lips as they reached the peak.

A thought skittered across his memory. There’d always been a deep connection between them during their lovemaking, but he remembered the flash of fear in her eyes right before he took her.

She’d held back.

He frowned. At the last moment, she’d fought her own surrender. She may have given him her body tonight, but her heart was still firmly encased behind that wall. He wondered if he’d ever be able to scale it.

“Gavin?”

He shook off his thoughts and tightened his arms around her. “What, baby?”

“Were you scared the night you saved that man’s life?”

His lips brushed her temple. “I told Brando I was scared out of my mind. But I learned a lot of things during my time in India. I watched people dying all around me. Poverty, disease, starvation. Made me crazy because I felt helpless to stop it, and I kept railing about injustice and fate and fairness. Suddenly, all my goals for power and money seemed useless.”

“How did you deal with this realization?”

“I finally stopped focusing on myself and looked around. You know what I found out? The people in India practice acceptance. Surrender. They live their life moment to moment, and if something bad happens, they understand it’s their own karma. I decided I wanted that type of peace.”

She was quiet for a while, as if digesting what he’d said. “Would you have been able to accept it if that man had died?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Maybe after some time had passed, yes, I would have learned to accept. In India, they also believe in being the witness. You teach yourself to get past emotions so you can move into action.”

“Isn’t that being in control?”

Gavin briefly admired the sharp intelligence of the woman lying beneath him. “Good point. In a way, I suppose you’re right. But there’s a difference between denying your emotions to be in control, and accepting them to accomplish an action. I was scared, but I didn’t fight my feelings. I let the fear move through me and then cleared my head so I could decide what to do.”

She shifted her buttocks and he stirred back to life. Ready for round two, he leaned over and tilted her chin up. The expression on her face froze him in the act. His chest squeezed in sheer terror at the mix of determination and sadness.

“I made my own decision, Gavin.”

“What is it, baby?”

“I don’t want to fight this attraction we have anymore. Maybe I can even fall in love with you again. But I’m not going to do anything about it this time.”

He stroked her cheek. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m tired of being afraid of the future. Wondering what’s going to happen when your time is up. Wondering if I can watch you leave again without breaking apart.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that. I have a plan.”

“No.” Her lips pursed. “This time it’s my decision. My rules, Gavin. We’re going to sleep together.”

“Thank God.”

“Thought you’d like that part. I won’t fight you. We’ll spend time together. But when our time is up, you go back to your job and we part without any hard feelings. Close up the past, clear our karma, and go on with our lives.”

Neat and tidy. He fucking hated it. “Miranda, please listen to me. We don’t have to leave each other this time. You can come with me.”

He expected a gasp of pleasure. A joyous smile. Not the outright laugh that mocked him as a crazy lunatic. “Come with you? While you travel around the country and close deals? No, thanks. I have a life here, a life I built, and I’m not giving it up.”

He jerked back. God, why was he so surprised? Did he really think one sexual encounter wiped out years of heartache?

His silence must have been his answer. A sad smile touched her lips. “I don’t want to hurt you, Gavin. But I’m not coming with you. If you want to continue this, it has to be on my terms. Or this is over tonight.”

He slumped back on the bed and laid his hand over his forehead. How had everything gotten so screwed up? Did he even have a choice? He wasn’t about to let her go. If he accepted her terms, she intended to say a sweet good-bye and find another man to marry and have kids with. The idea heated his blood with venom.