Dom muttered. He raked a shaky hand through his hair. He hadn’t expected this. Pleasure in her sweet body, yes. Even a companionable sense of connection between two like-minded people. But not this soul-shattering joining. Something had happened here tonight. He knew he’d pushed her too hard, insisted on too much. But the sheer bliss of playing with her flesh, drawing forth her untutored response, was so seductive, he hadn’t been able to stop. She was so open to him, so giving and trusting and honest. And it wasn’t only her body. No one knew better than Dom what it was to be wanted only for your body and looks. Christ, it was the damn story of his life. But the intoxicating desire thrumming through him all evening—all the past month—had been for Callista. Not merely her most delightful person, stripped naked and set free in all her sensuous glory, but her essence, her vulnerability and courage, her captivating mix of intelligence and passion, all of which she offered up to him.
