Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Three by Lydia Rowan

bedroom, and she lay down on the mattress, the coolness and texture of the linen amplified by the sensitivity of her skin. He lay on top of her, and she spread her legs instinctively, cradled him with her hips, desperate to have him inside her again, to have them joined as they were meant to be.
    His heated tip brushed against her, and she opened wider, silently urging him on. The movement shifted his cock, and he was aligned with her entrance, the intimate contact making them both breathe harder, the air passing between them as if they shared the breath.
    And then he thrust into her with no further preamble, and in that moment, all was as it should be, her and Alexander, no ghosts between them, him filling her, showing her with his body what he’d expressed with his words.
    He moved against her again and again, the slap of his flesh against hers as he hammered into her filling the room, punctuated by their grunts and moans. He caressed her breasts, thumbed her nipples as he stroked inside her, touched her with a mix of awe and reverence, as if he wasn’t quite sure that she was real. She smoothed her hands down his arms, reveling in the ripple of his taut muscles before reaching up to hold his face.
    “I’m here, Alexander. Forever.”
    Her words seemed to send him over the edge, and after a few more hard, deep thrusts, he exploded inside her, filling her with his essence. Love shone in his eyes as he rode the wave of his climax, and she kept her gaze on his, hoping that he could see all of his love being returned.
    Later, Alexander held her in his arms, stroking her back.
    “When do you have to go home?” he asked.
    “I am home.”
    His hands stilled, and he turned her to face him.
    “What did you say?”
    “I’m home; we’re home.”
    “But…but…” He trailed off, his brow furrowed with surprise. “What about your mother?”
    “She’s already looking for an English-speaking bridge club for her long and frequent upcoming visits.”
    “The house?”
    “Vern’s finally striking out on her own. She’s moving in the beginning of the month.”
    “Your job?”
    “Who cares?” she said with a shrug.
    His eyes widened, and she rushed on. “I mean, I won’t mooch or anything, but I told you, it’s just a job. I wouldn’t let it keep us apart.”
    Alexander sat up, looking stunned, disbelieving. She kissed his arm, and he glanced down at her, eyes filled with hope.
    She smiled at him, letting the love she felt show without any restraint.
    “If you’ll have us, of course.”
    “Have you? I’ll never let you go.”
    He returned her smile and leaned down to take her lips in a scorching kiss.
    Two weeks in Geneva had become a lifetime.
     

Devil’s Plaything: Excerpt
     
    She hadn’t expected him tonight.
    He’d been antsy, restless, last time, and she’d wondered if maybe, finally, one of them had come to their senses. Apparently not, for here he was, tapping at her door at this ungodly hour as he had so many times before. She opened it without looking and upon realizing what she’d done, braced herself for his reprimand.
    He did not disappoint.
    “You check first before you open, da ?” he asked, his cold blue gaze sweeping the small expanse of her home as he entered and began his check.
    “Sorry,” she said, though she resented feeling chastised in her own home. But placation, even in circumstances like this, was second nature to her, so better to apologize than risk upsetting him. He murmured indecipherably, clearly distracted by his search.
    She watched him prowl the space, much like a lion in a cage, his large, bulky frame making the small studio apartment seem cartoonishly smaller. His gaze quickly moved over the tiny kitchenette, but there was nothing to see there besides the cheap round table with two chairs, two-burner efficiency stove, minifridge, and bar-sized sink. She didn’t even have proper cabinets, just a converted shelf where she stored dry goods. Before, she’d kept the