"Yes," I managed to gasp out as he flicked his tongue over and around the sensitive skin and inside the folds a time or two, making me even wetter.

He moved up on me, his larger body flush with mine, and he pulled our hips together. He held my thighs apart and pushed into me with a force that would've been brutal if I'd been a smaller woman. As it was, the fit was so tight, so intense and so incredibly erotic that every time we had s.e.x I screamed. Every single time.

He covered my mouth with his to stifle my cry and began a slow thrust that would exponentially increase in speed and power as my body adjusted to his.

While relationships might bring with them, as Di suggested, a whole lot of unpredictability, the uncanny s.e.xual chemistry between Andrei and me didn't fit into that category. We could count on it without reserve. It had become the most steadfast element in my life, and I knew he was bowled over by it, too.

"Come for me," he whispered in my ear, pumping harder now. He said this more for the effect of being a little naughty rather than because he had any fear of it not happening. It always happened with him.

"I'm almost there." I cupped his bare a.s.s in my palms and strained against him, my body floating closer to completion with every labored breath.

He groaned and I wrenched away just far enough to watch the pa.s.sion build on his face. To see the heightened color of his complexion and the light of his eyes spike darker with the growing fervor between us.

A guttural moan came from deep within him. His gaze met mine as the swell inside him rose further, crested and then broke in climax.

"G.o.d, Ellie. Come."

He stayed with me and surged over and over for the final few seconds until I could join him.

I did. And, again, I screamed.

But what was different about this time was that, though I wanted the release, I didn't need it. The attachment I'd begun to feel had more to do with an emotion that defied physicality, however pleasurable.

Love?

Love.

It scared the s.h.i.t out of me. No way could I utter it aloud.

"Unbelievable," Andrei whispered. "It is always so with you."

I smiled and kissed his shoulder, clutching him to me for a moment before he had to pull away.

He removed the condom, perched on an elbow and looked down at me, his expression serious. "This is strange attraction. I am not ever experiencing such a thing before."

"Me either."

Only my one-night stand with Sam had approached this level of intensity. But, while the emotions may have been equally potent at the time, Sam proved to me that any fantasies of love were pure delusion.

Was I being delusional now?

"Andrei," I began. "What would happen if the s.e.x part between us were more, um, normal? Not always this spectacular? Would you still want us to be together?"

He cast me an odd look. "You are not liking that things work this way?"

I laughed. "No. I mean, yes, of course I like it. It's amazing. But I was wondering if you'd still want to see me so much if we just had average s.e.x."

He flopped down on his back and put his head on the pillow next to mine. "Do all American women ask these crazy questions?" He nudged my leg with his foot and trailed his fingertips over my naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

We weren't quite ready to do it again, but I could feel faint stirrings of arousal already and my breath quickened. The fact that Andrei was trying to change the subject kind of p.i.s.sed me off, though, so I replied, "Only American women who are crazy enough to be sleeping with Russian men."

This answer did not faze him.

He circled my nipples with his index finger and licked his lips, so I knew what was coming. "I am Russian man wanting to explore all parts of you. It is great bonus we can join our bodies in s.e.x this way, but you are lovely woman. You are kind person. For now, it is working to be with you and also to be f.u.c.king. I am not seeing problem."

No, he wouldn't, would he?

I decided to try again. "Look. All I'm saying is that I hope you're not with me only because of how good things are between us in bed. I've had men cheat on me before, and I won't let that ever happen again." I looked him straight in the eye so he'd know I meant every syllable.

He nodded, taking it in.

"So," I continued, "if you someday find yourself liking the s.e.x, but not liking me as much, it'd be better for me if we broke things off instead of trying to stay together. I don't want you being with me for physical things but wishing you were talking with someone else."

He put his wet lips to my nipple and sucked on it hard. The delicious tugging made my heart fillip. "I am not wanting to talk to or have s.e.x with someone else, Ellie."

Not quite a declaration of everlasting love, but it was hopeful. And I needed that kind of hope.

Less than a half hour of suckling and licking and stroking later, I screamed again.

His name, this time.

The week before Easter I took a personal day off work to go shopping. The wedding/union was still six weeks away, but I needed to find a really great dress since Mark and Seth had asked me to be one of their readers. Plus, I needed to buy a few other things, and I wanted to shop for them without Andrei knowing.

I went to the mall alone, which is to say, Jane went with me.

Why do you linger in this section? Jane asked as I wandered around the lingerie department of Marshall Field's, admiring the many lacy, silky fabrics.

No reason. But I made a note to visit Victoria's Secret later.

She sniffed. There seems no need for special undergarments. You and Mr. Sergiov appear to require very little by way of intimacy inducements.

I grinned. True. I always mentally locked Jane out of the bedroom, but she knew what went on nevertheless. The heat between Andrei and me had only risen, and I wanted to keep stoking that fire. I figured a sheer teddy might do the trick.

Jane said, Were you two married, I could not imagine a couple more inclined to take their connubial responsibilities seriously. There is surely no need for much more...kindling of flames.

But we're not married. And it's the dawning of the twenty-first century. No matter what, I don't want him to lose interest. Because I-I hesitated, then went ahead and told her the rest since she could deduce it anyway. Because I want him to marry me. I want him to WANT to.

There was a long pause.

I realize marriage in your era is not quite as intractable a situation as it was in mine. But, Ellie, are you most certain you wish this foreign gentleman to be your husband forevermore?

Andrei's foreignness scarcely registered anymore, and I adored his accent, so I scoffed at this.

Jane sighed. Aside from your shared pa.s.sion, are you truly in love with this man? Is he really the person you wish to cleave to? Whose name you would welcome as your own? Do you desire to link your ancestry with his through the connection of parenthood?

I thought of having Andrei's babies and smiled. They'd be so cute, a combination of features and ethnicities, like Angelique and Leo's daughter, Lyssa.

Mmm-hmm, I replied.

You are not merely feeling the tug of motherhood since you have grown old?

Old?

My apologies. It would have been considered old in my day. Rather, I mean since you have grown up.

That's better. I couldn't deny that being a mom had become increasingly appealing recently, but I had lots of time left for that stuff. (Right?) I didn't have a ticking biological clock. I really didn't.

It's not just about having babies, Jane. I'm getting ready to settle down, be with one person. I'd always heard that when you were truly ready for something in life, it would happen for you. Well, I'm there now.

And you can be certain of this? You can be fully a.s.sured of G.o.d's will?

It's not like the Big Guy told me his plans, no, but I can feel it. This is the right time. My relationship with Andrei is going strong. We have great chemistry together. It's got to be a sign that he's The One.

Jane did not immediately answer.

What? I said.

She coughed. I do not wish to dampen your enthusiasm, Ellie, but I believe in no such signs.

My reaction was, I'll confess, a bit on the defensive side.

And how would YOU know? Can you see into the mind of G.o.d? Can you recognize a divine message when one appears in the world?

I waited for her to respond and, when she didn't, I lashed out. I know our relationship-yours and mine-is kind of odd. I don't know anyone else who talks to ghosts of famous authors and, to be honest, it's frequently more of an inconvenience than a delight. But in the past, oh, almost twelve years, although I've learned a lot from you, I've also learned you have limits. This is one of those things you can't possibly know- You are worried, are you not? Jane asked quietly, ignoring my tantrum. You fear he does not love you in the same way you love him.

I s.n.a.t.c.hed at a light blue negligee, ripping it off its plastic hanger. No, I told her. I held the flimsy thing up to my body and glared at my reflection in the store mirror. It looked dreadful. I didn't look so great either.

Why do you fear this, Ellie?

I don't fear anything, I insisted. The time is right. HE'S right. I'm done talking about this. I shoved the ugly negligee back on the rack and marched toward the dress section.

Very well, Jane whispered.

And that was the first time I could remember her conceding an argument. Even then, I more than suspected I shouldn't have received quite so much satisfaction from this.

7.

Vanity and pride are different things...

A person may be proud without being vain.

Pride relates more to our opinion

of ourselves, vanity to what

we would have others think of us.

-Pride and Prejudice Jane and I had, of course, tangled before, over both shopping and men. There were times-many times-when we disagreed about some fundamental issue. In high school, for instance, regarding Jason Bertignoli and my need to do some very specific shopping for a very specific occasion.

Up until then, I thought I'd had a good handle on my emotions or, at least, that I was believable in my pretense. Turned out this wasn't quite true, although for the rest of my soph.o.m.ore year, all of my junior year and up until spring of my senior year I kept the vow I'd made to myself after that horrid school dance: I did not like Sam. I did not like Sam in the rain, I did not like Sam on a train, I did not like him in trigonometry, he was such an s...o...b.. (Sam "the Obnoxious" Blaine), you see.

Even Jane, who'd easily grown to be my closest friend and most trusted confidant-though, much to my disappointment, she continually denied any blood relationship between us-did not need to remind me of Sam's malevolence. But sometimes she did anyway.

She'd spout phrases like: He is an insufferable fool. Or, He is a disgraceful presence in your neighbourhood. Or simply, He is such a Wickham.

And I had to agree. Seeing him with Stacy Dasch.e.l.l that night of the dance, and for two whole weeks afterward-until she dumped him for "Rockhead," the toughest quarterback in the cla.s.s above ours-really did a number on me. He couldn't have chosen anyone worse. And, like an elephant, I had a long, long memory.

But an event loomed before me in late April of our senior year that had the power to weaken the resolve of most teen girls. A social affair that made even the normally sane, obedient ones forget their mothers' sage advice and their fathers' dire warnings.

Senior Prom.

I'd just heard Sam Blaine would be taking a pretty junior I barely knew, Amanda Roberts, to the big dance. I, myself, was currently unattached and had spent much of the early spring wallowing in a puddle of self-pity over this fact. So, when Jason Bertignoli leaned against my locker one afternoon and asked me to go with him to prom "as friends," I jumped at the chance.

Now, it's a truth universally acknowledged that a young woman in possession of an important date must be in want of a hot outfit. In the Marshall Field's fitting rooms that weekend, with my mom waiting for me just beyond the curtain, Jane studied my apparel possibilities.

Pray, Ellie, you are not wearing THAT, are you? she said, her voice laced with her peculiar brand of British horror.

I held up the slinky, deep-purple dress that reached no lower than mid-thigh and had a lot of nifty black fringes. This? asked innocently, though I knew it was the cause of her shock. I think I'd look great in it.

It is scandalous. You would not dare.