[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
slam of his heart against her breasts, even through the layers of clothing that
separated them. Her hands, flat against his shirtfront under the jacket, gloried in
the warm strength of the concealed muscles.
"Can you imagine how I felt when I knew?" he whispered roughly, his voice
muffled against her hair. "My God, I walked out of that apartment wanting to kill
Harris." He drew in a deep, steadying breath, his arms contracting again. "Of course
I didn't sleep, how could I? I'd wanted it to be perfect with us, absolutely perfect
the first time we made love.
Tears flooded her face as she pressed her cheek to his broad chest. "I wanted
you, you know," she managed tearfully.
"Yes," he said heavily.
She drew back and looked up at him with a watery smile. "It was delicious while it
lasted," she choked.
"Was it?" he murmured, searching her eyes with a slight frown.
He traced her lips with one broad-tipped finger, watching it hungrily. "I don't
dare imagine how much better it could have been," he whispered back. "You respond
so wonderfully to me, my little love— so warm and giving and passionate. You very
nearly drove me mad yesterday. And then not being able to have you after all . . ."
The memory of it made her heart go wild. Her body trembled with it, her eyes
told him how it had been for her.
"I want you," she whispered shakily.
"I want you too," he replied quietly. "But for the time being, we're going to let it
stand the way it is between us."
She hit his broad chest in silent frustration. "Nicholas!"
"Do you honestly think you're ready for that kind of commitment?" he asked
harshly.
Her green eyes were wide and confused as they looked up into his.
His hands held her in front of him, firmly caressing her upper arms through the
soft oyster-white jacket of her suit. "Keena, sex is a responsibility," he said gently.
"Unless it's understood as a business proposition, there's more to it than the easing
of an ache. Have you thought about precautions?" he asked levelly.
She felt very young when he asked questions like that. "Not really," she replied.
He smiled. "Well?"
She glanced at him and down again. "You take care of it."
He laughed softly. His eyes were patient, gleaming with quiet amusement. "With
you? Like hell I could. When I managed to tear myself away from you yesterday, I
didn't know my name. No, honey, don't expect me to take care of it. I thought I
could at the beginning, but I'm wiser now."
She traced the button on his shirt. "Aren't men supposed to be more in control
of themselves at your age, Mr. Coleman?" she teased gently.
His fingers trailed down her throat to trace the high, full thrust of her breasts.
"Not when they want a woman the way I want you," he murmured. "Why do you
bother with a bra?"
She could hardly breathe for the slam of her heart as those slow, very wise
fingers did impossible things to her self-control.
Her hands slid up to his broad, strong neck and her nails tangled in the thick hair
at its nape, her eyes closed while he touched and teased.
"Look at me," he whispered huskily.
She raised her misty eyes to his, watching the darkness grow in them as he undid,
one by one, the buttons on her blouse. Her lips parted under a rush of breath, but
she didn't make an effort to stop him.
His hands started to reach around her for the clasp of her bra, but she shook
her head slowly, her eyes never leaving his.
"It fastens . . . in front," she whispered shakily.
"Do you want to be touched?" he asked as he found the catch and very slowly
loosened it, his fingers brushing the wispy lace away from the high, perfect curves
of her breasts.
"Only by you," she managed in a tight, muffled voice.
His hands swallowed her, took the soft weight of her, caressed and cherished and
warmed her while she bit hard on her lower lip to keep from crying out, her eyes
involuntarily closing.
"Sweet, sweet Jove," he whispered, lowering his dark head. "Kiss me."
She reached up and drew his mouth down onto hers, letting her lips part, inviting
him, luring him, her body trembling as if with a fever as his mouth bit into hers with
a hunger that was incredibly tender, loving, deeper than anything they'd ever
shared. They rocked together, a tremor shaking his body as hers quaked with the
kiss that locked them together for all of one long, breathless, aching minute.
He drew back a breath, his eyes dropping to the soft white treasure swallowed in
his big hands, and he bent suddenly to put his mouth reverently to each hard pink
tip, the moistness making the cold seem unusually fierce to Keena as it brushed her
bareness.
"We must both be out of our minds," he whispered as he refastened the catch
and buttoned the blouse back into place. "You'll have pneumonia."
"It's so beautiful when you touch me," she told him with a piercing tenderness in
her soft eyes, "when you look at me. Nicholas, I'll never let another man touch me
like that."
"I know," he said tightly. "Keena, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I could eat you from head to toe, do you know that? Every soft, pearly inch of you,
God!" He ground her body against his, holding her so close she could barely breathe.
"I could take you here on the ground," he breathed harshly. "Oh, God, I hurt!"
"I'm sorry," she whispered, soothing him, her hands comforting, warm, and
tender as she smoothed his hair and crooned. "I know, I know. Nicholas, you can
have me," she whispered into his ear. "Right now, right here, standing up, lying
down, any way at all, don't you know that?"
"Yes, I know," he whispered tautly, but with some measure of control. His big
arms tightened. "You've always been willing to give me anything I needed. Even sex,
is that how it goes?"
"I'd do anything for you," she said simply, meeting his eyes as he lifted his
leonine head. "Anything in the world."
"Why?" he asked quietly, and searched her eyes deeply while he waited for her to
answer him.
She blinked, vaguely confused by the question. "Because . . . I care about you,"
she said finally. "Because we're friends."
"Would you really give yourself to me out of friendship alone?" he asked very
gently.
"You're confusing me!"
"I think we're confusing each other," he replied drily. He bent and brushed his
mouth gently across hers. He laughed softly. "Can you imagine what making love on
the ground would have done to that suit you're wearing?" he teased.
She flushed, but she didn't look away. "Shades of Hemingway," she murmured.
"We don't have a sleeping bag," he pointed out.
"The earth moved, anyway," she laughed, lowering her hot face.
"It did for me, too, honey," he murmured against her forehead. He linked his
hands behind her and drew back, his chest lifting with a deep sigh. "Have your
damned party, if it means so much to you. But you can't have Harris. Not now."
Wanting to irritate him, just for mischief, she grinned up at him and asked, "Why
not?"
But he wasn't playing. "Because you're mine," he said quietly.
She studied him curiously. "I don't understand."
"Remind me to explain it to you when you've got this crazy scheme out of your
system." He jerked her playfully. "What the hell does it matter now what happened
nine years ago, Keena?" he wanted to know. "It's in the past, where it's best left,
including the man you thought you couldn't live without. What kind of life could you
have with him?"
"Nick . . ." she protested weakly.
"We have to live in the present. But I can see I'm going to have to let you find
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]