Thank you for the review and thank you for the encouraging words. God bless.

I have decided to cease trying to write Tarrah's Irish accent...it is just too worrisome. Just know, that when she talks, she is speaking with an Irish accent...I know that does it for you.

DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS

CHAPTER 32

For the next couple of days, the opera house had demanded a great deal of Erik's time; leaving Lavanya to rely on Mrs. McGhee and Mr. Tibbs for entertainment and comfort.

Although the ankle was less sore, she still was unable to put very much weight on it. They brought her meals to her and occasionally she was able to use one of them as a crutch to move from place to place.

By the evening of the second day, Lavanya felt as though she had read every book in the extensive library, and studied each pattern on the ceiling and walls until she knew them intimately.

Tarrah had not spent much time at the manor lately…she seemed to be interested in a young man that she was quite secretive about – something that Erik found unacceptable. On one of the rare moments that they were both home at the same time, they had butted heads over the developing relationship; it had not ended well and they had not spoken since.

FLASHBACK

"Is there a particular reason why you cannot attend dinner tonight…Mrs. McGhee is preparing a special meal for your birthday."

Erik was trying not to lose his patience, but Tarrah was hiding something…or rather, someone…from him; something she had never done before – at least, not that he knew of.

"I made other plans…we can do it tomorrow night."

Erik lifted an uncompromising brow and his eyes echoed the same sentiment.

"Young lady, we always spend your birthday together…what other plans could you possibly have?"

Tarrah was equally as stubborn – perhaps more so – and she stood before him with her hands on her hips; looking every bit the determined, head-strong woman that Erik knew her to be.

It only took a few moments for dawning to spread across Erik's face and for his eyes to take on a dangerous glint.

"Who is he?"

If her chin had not lifted in a show of will, Erik may have dropped the subject, thinking it was something else…but he was too adept at reading defiance and secrecy in other people.

"With your tone biting into me with such caustic precision, I do not believe that I will answer you."

Those words served to infuriate him even more. They stood, inches away from each other, each defying the other to back down.

"Men only have one thing on their mind, Tarrah…especially men who pursue women in the opera house."

She laughed; a clipped, comical sound that made Erik's temples hurt even more than they already did.

"You do not, what makes you think there are no other men that think like you?"

Lavanya sat on the couch listening to this heated exchange take place in the hallway. It seemed that neither one of them was aware of her presence, so she did not alert them to it.

"That is different, Tarrah, and you know it."

She made a sound that resembled a muffled scream and worked her fists into small, tightly knit balls.

"You are incorrigible!"

She threw her arms up in the air and paced in circles, stopping every few steps to wag her finger at him.

"How is it different…and if you say what I think you are going to say, I am going to box your ears!"

Erik dropped his eyes and clamped his mouth shut. He had no desire to continue this conversation; they were forging into incredibly delicate territory.

"You cannot say it, can you?" She stood, looking as intimidating and enforcing as Madam Giry on her best day, "Just because you are too darned cowardly to tell Lavanya you are in love with her does not mean that all of us have to hide in our shells and watch love pass us by."

His face fell and his heart followed. He could not believe she had said that aloud and he was certain that Lavanya had heard her. What would she do with the knowledge of his love?

He looked into the parlor, where he was certain Lavanya was reading; but when he saw her, it looked as though she was sleeping – it appeared he had been blessed.

It was when he turned his head and looked toward Lavanya that Tarrah felt the guilt of her words weigh heavily on her heart.

"I am sorry, Erik…"

He had turned away from her and headed toward his music room; wanting to get far away and escape reality.

"You are right, Tarrah…I am a coward…" he turned briefly, lending her a view of his masked profile, "…and I am not your father…do what you wish."

"Erik…"

She started to apologize, but he was already past the point of listening.

END FLASHBACK

It had been four days…four long, grueling days since Lavanya had seen her husband. After the incident with Tarrah, he had presented her with a pair of beautifully carved crutches that would allow her to get around on her own.

She had thanked him profusely; but deep within her, she already missed him carrying her back and forth from place to place. His strong arms never failed to elicit strong images in her active mind; and his masculine scent of leather, expensive liquor, and spicy aftershave managed to give her body a gratifyingly sensual thrill.

That was four days ago. She had been walking quite well for the entire day, and was ready to move forward in her courtship with Erik. Irritatingly, he had not attempted anything with her…not even a kiss.

She had not had an opportunity to talk to him about Tarrah and the thoughts she had on what was going on in her life…and Tarrah had left the manor crying the night he had walked away from her.

He was hold up in the music room, finishing his next production. As far as she knew, he had not eaten in four days, and – from what Annette told her – had probably not slept much either.

Annette had come to check on her and to see how Erik was doing; it distressed her to find him locked away with his mistress of music and Lavanya growing more and more frustrated with him as each moment passed.

"He will come around, Lavanya; just keep making yourself available to him…" Annette advised, "…he and Tarrah may as well be blood related as alike as they are…she has hardly stopped crying and Phillip can do little to console her."

"I have had enough of this hiding he is doing…is this how he handles conflict?"

Annette heard the stubborn, non-compliant tone in her voice, and smiled knowingly; Erik had certainly met his match in this spirited young woman.

The days were growing warmer, or less cool – to be more accurate, and the flowers were beginning to bloom and the trees to blossom. Lavanya was forcing herself to walk on her ankle, despite the sharp pains that sometimes shot through it, and Annette walked beside her – enjoying the evening shades of the sinking sun play upon the canvas of the sky.

"There is a carnival in Paris that is quite notable and I think you would have a great deal of fun if you went…." Annette stated, "…my suggestion is to 'interrupt' his music session and sweep him away on an outing – just the two of you."

Lavanya had not considered such a thing; she had heard how he always stayed secluded when he worked and did not appreciate people barging in on him.

"I do not think he will mind if you interrupt him, my dear…" Annette said with a wink, "…after all, you are his wife."

Lavanya was not convinced; by any stretch of the imagination.

"I hear that they even have a part of the carnival dedicated to India."

It sounded intriguing, if nothing else; and Lavanya was longing to get away from the manor with him and let all of Paris know that he was an attractive, virile, strong man who just happened to belong to her.

"That is a great idea, Madam Giry; a very great idea indeed."

♦♣♥♠

Irritable and disgusted with himself, Erik surged to his feet; sending the piano bench toppling to the floor. He knew he had not slept enough and his head was aching profusely…when was the last time he had eaten?

The main thing that he had hoped to accomplish by hiding away in his musical haven was to eradicate her image from his mind; but it had seemed to make it worse. She filled his senses – the silken whisper of her breath against his skin, the warm velvet of her voice whispering up the sensitive tendrils of his spine, and the honey sweetness of her lips against his – he was going mad.

She had been his wife for one week…he had managed to kiss her on their wedding day and then she had put restrictions on him – not that he would have initiated anything anyway – but his kiss must have been absolutely atrocious for her to have endured.

He was also mad at himself for provoking Tarrah…what had he been thinking? She was not his daughter….he had no right to bombard on her love life just because his was lacking; he just wanted her to be happy.

She probably hated him now.

The sun had finally gone down and the moon glowed eerily in the dark heavens with the stars flickering around it like candles lighting the way. Erik had once relished the night like an old friend; but now, it only reminded him of all that he could not have.

His thoughts turned once again to Lavanya. She was tolerating him and he thanked her for that; but for how long? He longed to taste her lips again and explore the softness of her dark chocolate hair through the virgin skin of his fingers; but how could he take such liberties when she had given him her boundaries.

His heart had yielded and he had no power or desire to fight it any longer. He had fought with everything in him to ward off the doomed fate of his love for her; but unlike anything he had ever felt for Christine – this had come in like a flood. It demolished every defense he had ever had and left a pile of ashes in its wake.

He moved over to the piano bench and sat it up straight, quickly making sure he had not rendered any damage to it in his anger. He sat down and tinkered with the keys, not making any distinct melody.

With all the life lessons he had known and the many physical and mental pains he had been through, Erik had thought himself wiser than this. He was little more than an animal – just as he had been taught since the age of six.

It was not an easy lesson to forget – not when it had been so skillfully taught.

And yet…she had him shamelessly wrapped around her finger and anything she asked he would do – without pause. Despite his head telling it that it was on a collision course with disaster, Erik's frayed, damaged, and betraying heart had abandoned all good sense and no longer belonged to him.

A lingering, albeit painfully honest, deluge of words invaded his mind; he could no more stop them from coming out of his mouth than he could stop breathing.

"Never knew I could feel like this…
like I've never seen the sky before.
Want to vanish inside your kiss.

Everyday I love you more... and more."

What scared him more than anything was that he meant every word. He was more alive when Lavanya was near him, than he been his entire life. Everything about life that he had not experienced or never witnessed – he longed to discover with her by his side.

"Listen to my heart…
can you hear what it says?
It's telling me to give you everything.

Seasons may change…winter to spring.
But, I love you until the end of time."

Nothing would ever be the same again.

"Come what may.
Come what may.
I will love you until my dying day."

There was beauty in places he had never seen it…people were not the horrors that he had believed them to be for his entire life. He had laughed more, smiled more, hurt more, and longed more since she had entered his life…he was living – really living – for the first time.

"Suddenly, the world seems such a perfect place.
Suddenly, it moves with such a perfect grace.
Suddenly, my life doesn't seem such a waste…
It all revolves around you."

If it did not last and never touched him again, Erik would never forget what it felt like truly to love someone with a love that surpassed understanding.

"And there's no mountain too high…
no river too wide;
sing out this song and I'll be there by your side.

Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide…
But, I'll love you until the end of time."

He knew love now – sweet, torturous, all-consuming love…for what more did he have a right to ask?

"Come what may.
Come what may.
I will love you until my dying day."

Come What May

Lyrics by: Baz Luhrmann & Craig Pearce, written by: David Baerwald

"Erik…?"

His fingers sprang away from the keyboard and his head lurched sideways at the sound of her voice.

How long had she been there?

"Is that one of the songs from your new musical play…it is so beautiful?"

She moved closer to him and he dropped his eyes as she approached. She longed to tell him never to take his teal gaze from her; his eyes revealed so much about him that he was hesitant to reveal otherwise.

What should he say? It was not a new song for any of his works - it was the new song of his heart. She would not want to know that he sang it to her – that in a few short days she had become the most important person in his life.

"I may use it…I have only just begun to write it."

Lavanya smiled and shook her head disbelievingly.

"You just made the song up…" - silence with a gaping mouth – "…just now?"

Erik frowned amusingly and his eyes sparkled like diamonds in the shimmering moonlight – which dallied with the dancing flames of the candles.

"That is how they come to me…rather abruptly and sometimes they sneak into my dreams at night."

That was amazing to her…he was a genius. Not that she had ever doubted it, but she had never seen him create before – never watched him work.

She moved closer still – her curvaceous hips swayed musically with each step – the moves were so pretentiously seductive that Erik was certain she knew that his body stiffened painfully in response to her nearness.

She slid onto the piano bench beside him, mindful of his strong thighs touching hers and of his beautiful hands resting just inches from her own thigh. She could not move her eyes from his hands…her thoughts lingering on what uninhibited song he would coax from her lips if he stroked her body with his incomparably masculine hands as intricately and tenderly as he stroked the keys.

He had not seen her in four days…what a vision she was. Was it possible that she was even more breathtaking than she had been on their wedding day?

"How is your ankle?" he asked, gasping for the breath she robbed him of.

She nodded and took one of his hands in hers.

"It is much better, thank you."

She examined every centimeter of is hand, running her fingers over the heated flesh of each one and silently relishing the hitch in his breath upon each stroke.

"May I make a request…as your wife?"

Here it came – she wanted him to leave at worst; at best, she wanted to be just friends. He was not sure which one would hurt most…he knew that both would kill him.

However, the softness in her eyes belied the thoughts in his mind, and the lulling tenderness of her voice was doing strange things to his insides. He nodded his head, allowing her to ask whatever she wished.

"Do not cover your hands Erik…." She lifted her head again, looking into the dim, subdued lighting and catching his smoky, tantalizing gaze. "They are as beautiful as the music they create."

She turned his hand palm up and ran her finger along the ridges – making a warm shiver of delight shoot straight up his spine and heating his body to a painful arousal.

It was strange how two people could look at the same thing and see entirely different pictures; all he saw when he looked at his hands…was blood.

He swallowed deeply to ward off the savage longing to claim her lips in an all-consuming, all-revealing kiss.

"You look amazing, Anya…."

Where had that come from? He tried not to look shocked at his own statement; he could not believe he had said that aloud.

"It makes me feel good to know that you notice…does it please you….the way I look?"

His eyes narrowed, his brow creased, and his patrician nostrils flared; did she think that…did she believe that she was only there to please him?

Thrusting his tall frame off the bench and striding toward the large, full-length windows, Erik stood as still as a statue – looking very much like a dark, decadent angel who had been cast from the heavens for looking sinful and tempting.

"You are not here to please me, Anya – what a ghastly thought - no one should be forced to do such a …" He did not finish his statement; the look in Lavanya's eyes silenced him.

He was mocking himself again and Lavanya did not know whether to box his ears or kiss him senseless.

"…you are a beautiful, vibrant woman with dreams, and ambitions of your own…"

He heard her moving toward him, but did not turn, "…to be open and frank with you…."

She stood beside him now and he barely turned his head – giving her a priceless vision of his unmarred profile, "…you have given me more pleasure than anything or anyone in my entire life…"

He knew she looked aghast at his revelation, repulsed even…but she needed to know that she pleased him – since that seemed important to her.

This time, he turned toward her – fully resting his eyes upon her breathtaking features. "…it is not just the way you look – as you might think – but you are strong-minded…" he smirked and chuckled lightly, "…stingingly opinionated…"

He lifted his hand as though to caress the soft down of her cheek, but withdrew abruptly – fearing that she would recoil from him.

"…more alive than any woman I have ever seen."

She grasped the hand he had lifted toward her and held it to her cheek. She closed her eyes, reveling in the large, masculine feel of them; and he smelled like the perfect combination of danger and delight.

The tips of his fingers had calluses from years of playing the piano and violin – so she kissed each tip with maddening tenderness – leaving him, once again, powerless to catch his fleeting breath.

Her lips brushed the palm and Erik inadvertently drew in a hissing breath…the sensation he was experiencing was one of pure bliss.

She opened her eyes and smiled sweetly at him, dropping his hand to her side with their fingers still entwined.

"Erik, take me somewhere."

The request seemed rather odd, considering the intimate moment they were sharing, but Erik assumed she had had enough and could not help the disappointment that flooded his heart. He moved silently away from her and sat back down on the piano bench. He did not look at her but spoke into the clandestine candlelight.

"Take you somewhere…you are free to go wherever you wish…where would you like to go?"

"Annette mentioned a carnival that is in town - would you take me?"

Carnivals made him nauseous, but Erik wanted to please her. She knew nothing of his gypsy years and he did not have the heart to tell her that he had been a sideshow freak in a carnival when the gypsies had acquired him at the age of six. He looked over at her as she sat down beside him; he was facing the keyboard, she was facing the other direction; but she found it very easy to see him from this angle.

"I would prefer some place less rowdy and crowded…" he stated, "…do you like art?"

She lifted her shapely brow and smirked bemusedly.

"Paintings, sculptures, carvings….art?"

His teasing tone and sinful smirk made her giggle. He obviously had no idea how much his unintentional flirting was affecting her; she finally shook her head.

"Would you care for a tour of the Louvre Museum?"

She had not expected this and sat in stunned silence for few moments.

Erik did not understand her silence and took it to mean that the Museum would be a far better place to go if she were not going with him.

"If you would prefer not to go with me, I can arrange for Annette and Tarrah to go with…"

"No!" Lavanya exclaimed.

She could not see his face very well, for he had dropped his head as though in shame; but she was certain he had a very pained look on his face; as the pain was quite evident in his voice.

"Erik, I want to go with you…and no one else. I am sorry for my silence, but I did not expect to get the offer of accompanying you to such a place."

"Whyever not?" He asked, with surprise – his head turning slightly to regard her.

"My unusual coloring and strange clothing make people think I am either a courtesan or a stage performer."

Erik's low, rumbling chuckle warmed her heart, "Then what a pair we shall make – for I pass quite nicely as a freak show exhibit – in fact, I was one for some time when I was younger."

She heard the bitter edge that suddenly laced his words and she lifted her eyes to his. She could see enough of him in the passive lighting to know that he looked like temptation itself – an unmistakable invitation to partake of his promised passion – yielding would mean a lifetime of delight in his arms.

She saw the long fingers of his hand resting wantonly on his thigh and she grasped them tenderly, once again rubbing her thumb over the smooth surface of his sensitive flesh.

"Tell me, Erik…I need to know."

He stiffened at her insistence and she felt him try to remove his hand, but she held it firmly.

"There is nothing to tell… really…it was a long time ago."

She heard it, that small voice he tried to hide that wanted to know someone cared about what he had been through – what had made him who he was – and she was going to be everything he needed her to be.

"If it was so long ago, then why do you still wear the pain with such familiarity?"

He was silent; lodged between the need to tell her everything and the desire to keep his distance. He was certain that releasing his past to her would be his demise.

She sensed the war waging inside him and threw him a white flag.

"Take me to lunch tomorrow and then to the museum." She wrapped her arms around his neck and somehow ended up in his lap.

For his part, Erik was in stunned shock as her plump, exquisite backside nestled perfectly against his rapidly hardening flesh. She wriggled her lush bottom against his hips – knowing it was causing him a great deal more distress than it was her.

His eyes rolled back and closed involuntarily at the strange sensations she was creating in him. He could not keep from breathing in her scent – the irresistible womanly essence – the indefinable perfume of her sex that had been driving men wild with longing for centuries.

He was no exception.

"Where would you like to go to lunch?" He finally managed in a strained, broken tone that sounded husky and ridiculously sensual to his trained ears.

Her delicious lips lingered at the pulse point behind his ear; when she spoke, the erotic sensation vibrated through him like a lovers caress.

"Anywhere….as long as you are with me."

The illuminating candles cast a romantic glow on room and Lavanya found is so easy to give into her need of him. He was so close that their noses gently rubbed – flirting with the spark of desire that danced between them.

There would be no barriers tonight – no pain – just a man and wife finally tasting the fruits of their union. Although her body cried out for it, and she could feel the evidence of his need against the softness of her bottom, Lavanya would not yield it all to him…not tonight…but he needed to know she desired him above all others.

Erik felt the air shift around them – the spark of something unknown to him, but undeniably sensual.

He had no idea of her intentions until her sweet mouth found the sloped column of his throat and feather soft kisses floated across his skin. His quiet sigh of disbelief melted into a low groan of illicit desire.

"Anya…"

She slowly lifted her head and placed a quieting finger to his full lips.

"Shhhh…I want this, Erik…I want to taste you and feel you…just kissing and touching…." for now, she added in thought.

His deep swallow and dusky eyes indicated his desire to continue.

"Let us find a more comfortable place to engage in such things."

He effortlessly lifted her into his arms and carried her to the soft, plush couch that had apparently doubled as his bed for the past four days. He strode over the large Italian marble fireplace and stroked the dying embers of the fire until it sparked to life again, crackling and hissing its disapproval at being awakened.

He sat back down next to her and she slid into his lap again, loving how she fit perfectly against the hard, hungry plane of his body.

Before she could continue her sensual exploration, Erik needed to know if this was for her pleasure or if she was only doing this because she knew he wanted it.

"What is this, Anya…do you truly desire me – or are you just giving me what you know I want?"

Her lopsided smirk was the most desirous thing she could have done, for Erik's body jolted to life again.

"I already answered that question, Erik…I want this…." She shook her head and then looked at him determinedly, "…no – change that…I need this."

She turned in his lap, straddling his hips to face him – her heated center almost caressing his swollen staff – but remaining teasingly unattainable.

He wore no mask, so she pressed her cheek against his marred flesh – softly caressing the scars with a loving sweep of her flesh against his. She placed tiny, moist kisses upon his cheek and then moved to his ear – circling it with her tongue.

His hands somehow found the curve of her waist and he pulled her hips closer to his bold erection; wanting to feel the pressure of her against him; his head lulled back against the couch and his eyes drifted shut as he spoke.

"I will gladly yield whatever you want, Anya…" he groaned, "…I will not demand anything else…" his eyes touched hers in a seducing grip that left her panting for relief, "…just let me taste you."

The agonizing honesty of his words pierced her heart, and tears pooled in the corners of her eyes – he thought she would get him poised and ready with her teasing kisses and then not allow him anything more.

What could she say with her voice that she could not say with her lips? He was hers for the taking; beneath her searching hands and hungry mouth, he would find a solace; she would see to that.

She removed the material of her sari - exposing the form fitting Choli, which covered her front but left her back bare for his touch. The loose skirt she wore draped over his hips – covering them both in the canopy of the material.

Erik had never seen a woman actually undress in any way…and to watch her expose the swell of her breasts and the slight plumpness of her soft belly was like a dream from which he had no desire to awaken.

Once she was comfortable, she settled atop him and ran her hands through the raven tresses that she had longed to tease for days.

"You have wonderful hair, Erik…soft and thick…."

"…and - if I recall correctly - still needing to be trimmed." He pointed out, with a sensual smirk.

Her fingers threaded through it and his eyes drifted shut once more. No one had ever touched him in this way – no one; no one had ever said he had a "wonderful" anything.

She leaned into him and feathered her tongue across the sculpted curve of his jaw – feeling him jerk with anxious surprise.

She smiled seductively into his dark eyes…wondering what the unreadable shadow lingering in their smoky depths meant.

His eyes drifted shut and moan sounded deep in his throat as she teased the sensitive flesh at the base of his throat…she felt his pulse as it raced with desire. Her lips caressed it, and then she moved upwards toward his mouth.

She lined his full, firm lower lip with warm, gentle kisses and smiled when his mouth opened slightly in an attempt to catch his breath – giving her easier access.

His breathing had deepened and his hands rested gently on her legs. Unbeknownst to him, his masculine thumbs were weaving seductive circles on the perceptive flesh of her thighs; and she moaned into his mouth as she continued to ravage it.

Her agile fingers unbuttoned the buttons on his crisp, white, ruffled shirt and moved it over his shoulders with intentional ease. His eyes were open now and he watched her every move beneath the veiling shadow of his long lashes.

Ever since Tarrah had made the remark about his chest, Lavanya had thought of little else…she wanted his naked flesh beneath her hands.

As she pushed it from his broad shoulders, she lowered her mouth to his, never taking her eyes from his enticing lips. She brushed her lips over his, stroking back and forth over their softness.

Almost without detection, his hands crept up the soft flesh of her back, relishing in the way it melted against him. Her mouth was a forbidden treasure he had been denied for all of his adolescent and adult years.

She tasted like every erotic thought he had ever had and every fantasy he had ever conjured up; fire and ice, hard and soft, light and dark.

Before he could wonder why she moaned contentedly while she kissed him, she touched her tongue to his lip; sending his eyes fluttering open to see if she had intended to do such a thing.

She lifted slightly, still touching her lips to his, but smiling seductively into his eyes. She repeated the action, and when he answered with a slight opening, she took possession of him in the most pleasant of ways.

She ravished his mouth – plunging and stroking him to a fevered frenzy. She could feel him straining beneath her heated core and she writhed against the throbbing ridge of his growing arousal.

Erik followed his primal instincts and claimed the plump curve of her rump with hand while raking a hand through the dark tresses of her long, luscious waves; drawing her into his novice kiss with gentle force and tangling his warm, talented tongue with hers in a dance as old as music.

Her fascination with his chest baffled him, but he moaned into her plunging mouth as she ran her hands over his hardened peaks; bringing a hiss to his swollen lips.

She replaced her hands with her mouth and Erik's head shot upward and his eyes locked with hers. She was circling the peaks of his manly chest with her sweet, little tongue, and Erik had never felt anything so exquisite.

His hips ground against her; a rhythm he knew belonged within him, but one he had fought to subside all these years.

She felt him beneath her – strong and vigorous – his body delightfully ready for whatever she desired of him. She could not resist a smile when his fingers slid through her hair and lodged behind her head, pushing her hungry mouth further against his fevered flesh.

"I love the way you are built…my husband…strong…" she swept her tongue across his erect nipple – and he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, "…masculine…" she copied that action on the other side – and he blew it out slowly, "…beautiful."

With the last word, she was just a breath from his lips and sighed his name, "Erik…" then, she tenderly possessed his delicious mouth – sweeping her lips across his with such a loving gentleness that he would have thought he was dreaming if she had not moaned in her own pleasure.

Erik deepened the kiss this time, surrendering himself under the demanding pressure of her mouth and allowing her searching tongue to sweep past his lips. His hands moved from the soft sway of her lower back, up her sides and rested at the juncture beneath her throbbing breasts.

She longed – no, she yearned – for his large, gentle hands to cup her fullness and learn the secrets of her body; however, he remained maddeningly close, with his thumbs grazing across the underside, but not quite touching.

She was undone by the possessive urgency of his overwhelming kisses; her thighs trembled in anticipation of his imminent claim to the hidden treasure resting at their juncture; her whole body was aflame – a sensation as new to her as it was to him.

Lavanya yearned for him – for what his body could give her…but she would not rush it. He was learning how to take pleasure from her mouth and body - to ask for it with his own insistent needs – ignoring what he considered his own unworthiness.

She was lost in him…he had claimed her mouth – claimed her…and with this newfound passion and the power he held over her, he could have taken everything from her and she would have been powerless to stop him.

Long before she wanted him to, he pulled back and she noticed a lambent glow had settled in his eyes. He lifted his hand and gently caressed her full, kiss-swollen, bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

"I am going to rest in the thought that you derived as much pleasure from this as I did…" his luminous gaze finally moved from her lips to her eyes, "…if it is otherwise, I do not wish to know at this time."

He winked at her and moved her off his lap. He stood and moved past her in a swift manner, hoping she did not notice the outline of his erection through the material of his pants.

"Erik…I want you to talk to Tarrah…she is in love and needs you to be there for her."

Erik did not respond at first, but she could tell he had heard her.

"She is only eighteen…is she certain it is love?" He pleadingly asked, hoping to hear what he wanted to hear.

"Talk to her…"

He chuckled, smirked, and dropped his head in defeat; promising he would do so.

"Let me show you to your bedroom, Madam Lacroix." He bowed.

She took his hand and held it, long after he would have thought she would have released it. He quietly led her to her room and opened the door to let her enter. Feeling bold and more confident, Erik bent his head and kissed her; with a slight sweep of his tongue across her very eager lips.

He moved slightly back, but she could still feel his warm breath upon her cheek when he spoke.

"Tomorrow – lunch and The Louvre – we will leave at 12:30 pm – do not forget."

She smiled and lifted her hand to caress his bottom lip, "I do not think I could forget…even if I wanted to."

He nodded, turned, and went toward his own room; oblivious to the lustful stare she was giving his backside.

TBC