Author disclaimer: I own none of these characters. This is strictly a work of Fan Fiction written for pleasure.

Chapter Three

As they climbed the curving staircase, Lily clung to Cane's hand, following his lead on legs gone weak with desire and yes, a little trepidation, for she'd leaped off a cliff of sorts. Now that she'd opened herself to him, her arms to him, her heart for his taking, there was no going back. And though she was no virgin, Cane had an overt sensuality that guaranteed there'd be no prudence between them, no shyness, no threshold uncrossed before this night was over.

Hot excitement streaked through her when he stopped at the first door on the left of the darkened corridor. His bedroom. The place where she would learn all his secrets, and he, all hers. The anticipation was magnificent and terrible, both.

Gripping the knob, he paused to somberly search her face, as though watching for any sign of reticence on her part.

A tremulous smile from her was all it took for the frown to ease from his brow. Opening the door, he waited for her to pass inside before following her in and shutting it with his back. While she wandered about the handsomely appointed bedroom, he leaned against the door and watched her. Biding his time, Lily thought, but not for long. He would only wait so long before he took her in hand and introduced her to pleasures she couldn't even guess at.

Her trembling fingertips glided over a series of photographs sitting atop the mahogany dresser, some of them snapshots of family, others of people she didn't recognize. She picked up a faded snapshot of a scruffy, towheaded boy. "Is this someone you knew in Australia?" she asked, her voice emerging high and breathy in the room's thick, expectant silence.

"A friend I had when I was a kid. He's gone."

"Gone?"

"Dead."

Lily met his eyes, found them dark and unreadable. There was so much she didn't know about him, his past, his world. Yet here she stood in his most personal space, ready to meet him in the most personal way.

"I'm sorry about your friend," she said low.

He made no reply, only locked the knob behind him, pushed away from the door and slowly approached her. When he reached her, he took the picture frame and set it back on the bureau. "No more talking." One step closer and he had her braced against its edge, so close she could count his eyelashes. "Are you afraid of me, Lily?"

She shook her head. A small lie, and maybe he knew it, because a flicker of regret flashed in his eyes.

"I trust you, Cane," she added, and meant it.

"Then put your hands on me," he said.

His brutal directness caught her breath. No more waiting, no more cat and mouse. Time to realize her wildest dreams.

She was a kid in a candy shop. Oh, God, where do I start?

She must have spoken aloud because a smile crept across his mouth, a momentary, tender softening that was so very Cane, and then it was gone, and that fierce intensity she half-feared, half-loved, returned. Catching her left hand, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles, lightly bit the tip of her thumb, rubbed her palm against his beard-shadowed cheek…and then led her fingers down to the triangle of skin exposed by his open collar.

"Here," he murmured. "Start here."

Lily licked her lips, her attention focused on his bare throat. For all his seductive composure, a pulse throbbed there, frantic enough that she could count each beat beneath his skin. It was this minute sign of vulnerability that granted her the courage to slide his shirt buttons through their corresponding holes, her fumbling fingers somehow, magically, working well enough to reveal the tough, sculpted musculature of his chest and stomach, the faint dusting of golden hair that surrounded his navel and narrowed down into his fly. When she tugged the shirttails free from his jeans, she lifted her eyes to his…and wondered how any woman could possibly remain standing when a man looked at her in such a way. He was watching her with white-hot, hungry focus, as though she were the sole center of his universe, and no one—no Amber, no Heather, no one—had touched him like this before her.

More courageous now, Lily pushed the shirt from his muscled shoulders, let the garment catch on his elbows, and for a breathless pause, with Cane standing in patient silence, carefully studied him. None of the youthful fumblings she'd shared with Daniel could have prepared her for this. She felt herself coming apart thread by thread, the armor on her heart unraveling and falling away to leave her more naked than if he'd stripped her bare. Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't back away from the perfection of this moment, of realizing she'd fallen utterly, foolishly in love with this man.

"Lily."

She remembered to breathe and cast him an embarrassed glance through her lashes.

"I'm going to finish this before you kill me." He shrugged out of the shirt, let it fall to the floor, his fingers making quick work of his leather belt and button fly. When his hands poised to push down his jeans, he stopped and took inventory of her wide gaze, her warm cheeks, the way her lips had fallen open. The fierce concentration knitting his brows eased and he reached out to her, slid a hand along her jaw, stroked her cheek and the shell of her ear, softly, softly, until she leaned into the caress like a languid cat. Then with jeans still hanging open, he grasped her waist and drew her against him, and kissed her with ravenous mouth and tongue.

"Lily…Lily."

Oh, the sound of her name uttered in that rich, hungry voice. She'd heard it a million times in dreams, and the reality was immeasurably more poignant, more delicious. Lily could only cling to his strong wrists as he nipped at her chin and the side of her throat and whispered husky instructions, something she didn't quite catch. Only when she found herself turned and facing her reflection in the wide double windows did she understand his intent.

The zipper on her strapless dress slid down, down, to the base of her spine, and she shivered as cool air brushed her fevered skin. His hands sent goose bumps across her flesh as they carefully slid inside the bodice to find what lay beneath, to stroke and measure and set her on fire.

"You're—God. You're so soft. So sweet." He pushed the bodice down to her hips, where it caught, and Lily resisted the urge to cover her breasts, reflected so nakedly in the night-dark glass.

"Don't be shy," he whispered against the crown of her head, his accent thicker than she'd heard it before. "You're so pretty. You're beautiful."

Lily closed her eyes, tried to turn into his embrace, but he stayed her with a gentle hand and lightly grasped her chin. "Open your eyes, Lily. " When she lifted her lashes and met his piercing gaze in the window, he nuzzled her temple and said, "Tell me what you want. I'll give you anything. Everything."

Too overcome to reply right away, she reached up and cupped his cheek with her palm, her head listing to the side when his hot mouth skimmed the curve of her neck. No one had ever asked her what she truly wanted. Not even Daniel. Cane made her feel she could divulge her deepest fantasies, and he would make them all come true.

"You, Cane," she whispered at last, shivering with a million unspoken sentiments as his warm hands slid up her naked ribs and cupped her breasts. "Oh, God. Just you."