A Perfect Fit

Oh. Damn.

The gasp was trapped in her throat, and the world screeched to a halt as if God had slammed his foot on the brakes of time. She sucked in a breath—a difficult task, since all the air seemed to have been vacuumed out of the room. Perspiration prickled her palms, and if she could have moved, she would have rubbed them against her skirt.

It can't be. She stared, her heart performing a dizzying tap dance against her rib cage. It's not possible.

Yet meeting the bright blue eyes that had haunted her dreams for the past six months, Rowyn couldn't deny what her gaze refused to accept.

Him.

She'd convinced herself he couldn't have possibly been as beautiful in reality as he'd appeared in her dreams. After all, when a man gave a woman the most intense, just-this-side-of-death orgasms she'd ever experienced, she could be forgiven for imagining him larger than life. But no, as he stood mere feet away, staring at her with his impenetrable gaze, Rowyn realized her dreams hadn't been exaggerations.

The same deep cobalt eyes that reminded her of the heart of the ocean. The same olive-tinted skin that reminded her of Italian villas perched on craggy cliffs and romantic beaches. The same beauty that, if he'd been born centuries earlier, would have had Michelangelo drooling to sculpt him for his David. His dark brown, closely-cropped curls enhanced the image of a Greco-Roman work of art. And Jesus, the body—she shivered. Tall, elegant, and hinting of an almost primitive power that existed under the civilized black jacket, slacks, and maroon shirt.

She'd been on the receiving end of that power, unleashed and wild.

The intense stare held her immobile and might as well have been a length of steel chains wrapped around her body. She couldn't move, couldn't avoid the hard questions in his penetrating gaze.

Unbidden, a memory of the last time she'd been with him flared in her mind. Just the thought of that night could make her nipples tingle and her sex clench. There were nights she still woke from erotic Technicolor dreams, body trembling and breath rasping out of her throat. Dreams of a face hardened with lust, gleaming blue eyes, and a big, muscled body sliding on top of hers, thrusting deep in her pussy. Stretching and filling her…

Rowyn shivered. Damn. All this time later, and an emptiness lingered, a hollow emptiness that could only be filled by a man she believed she'd never see again—the man not five feet away.

"Rowyn," Pamela drawled, snatching her from the stupor she'd tumbled into. "How nice of you to show up. Late."

The barb might as well have been a rubber ball, for it bounced right off of Rowyn. Her mind felt like it had been wrapped in yards of bubble wrap. What was Darius doing here? In Boston?