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He’d be the man who brought down the Ice Dragon. She knew how people referred to her, the gossip they flung like mud at her back.
    This man had cherished her, Simmi , the woman who existed at her core.
    She bit her lip. He should never know who she was. Too much risk, and then the memory of that perfect night, too, would be tainted.
    So she took a deep breath. “I had a wonderful night.”
    “So did I,” he said in the low growl that turned her knees to jelly.
    She looked down and started to move past him. A big hand snaked out and pulled her to him.
    “Night’s far from over,” he added in a hushed tone.
    Then he claimed her mouth, and all her resistance, resolution, and good sense evaporated under the scorching touch of his lips. She traced a hand up the bulging muscles of his upper arm, across a broad shoulder, along his neck, then tangled her fingers in his thick hair. With her palm pressed against the nape of his neck, she kept him in place while she returned every swipe of his lips, every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth. Fire blazed hot and strong inside her, and she moaned against his mouth.
    The night had a few more hours. She could still have him, one more time. One last time…
    Without releasing her, he snaked his free arm under her knees and lifted her to carry her back into the bedroom. The sounds of the storm outside—the rattle of the windows, the crash of the rain, the whistle of the wind in the trees—blanketed them inside a cocoon where the violence and the intensity of their feelings and their need warred with the cyclone.
    He made short work of undressing her—she helped him along. Then they were naked, skin-to-skin, hot, sweaty, and delirious with want.
    If she had him, would she ever get enough of this man? Not likely.
    But she didn’t. She had no more than a few hours.
    He sat on the edge of the bed, drew her down onto his lap. Breaking their kiss, he reached onto the bedside table for yet another condom, rolled the thin latex protection onto his hard cock. Then he scooted toward the headboard, propped himself against it, and pulled her on top.
    She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he entered her in their sitting position. Her torso lay flush against his, not an inch of distance between them. They found each other’s mouths and kissed. He stroked his tongue inside her mouth, in the same rhythm he coaxed his erect member in her.
    Simmi gave herself up to him taking her. She suspended all thoughts from her mind, anything but the feeling of being in his arms, of having him make her his with so much passion, need, and tenderness.
    This time when ecstasy came, she stifled the cry of pleasure against his shoulder. He pressed his face against the side of her head, and with his mouth right next to her ear, she heard every nuance of his groan when his orgasm rocked him.
    Spent, she sagged against him. He brought those steel band arms around her and cradled her, ever so gentle, against his huge body.
    “Don’t leave,” he murmured.
    I can’t. I don’t want to . “I’m not going anywhere.”
    “Good.”
    He eased himself down on the bed and tucked her against him.
    When sleep found them a few minutes later, Simmi abandoned herself to its feathered fingers and sighed.
    A few more stolen moments, before she had to go…
     
    ***
     
    The telephone rang, shattered through the blanket quiet inside the bedroom.
    Simmi stirred, while next to her, she felt him move to reach for the receiver on the bedside table.
    “Yes?” he mumbled.
    Against her, his whole body grew tense, and she dared to look up. Fury masked his features. Even in the pale glow of a cloudy morning, she could see the stark emotion on his face.
    She grew afraid and retreated from his embrace. “Wha…what is it?”
    He clamped his jaw, mouth drawn into a thin slash. “That was the concierge. He said to inform you the cyclone warnings have been lifted, and a car is waiting for you at reception, as you requested