Chance Meeting (38 page)
“My room,” he murmured, raining kisses over her brows, the tip of her nose, his feet already heading toward their destination. He cast a final, amused glance at her room, adding, “I’m not sure I can wait long enough to find your bed.”
“Yours is bigger, anyway. I think we’ll need it,” Ty observed, surprising them both. Against her shoulders, his chest rumbled. “That’s my Ty, always thinking.” Her face warming unmistakably, Ty ducked her head. Only to find herself thoroughly distracted by the corded column of tanned skin.
The feel of Ty nuzzling the base of his throat had Steve’s arms tightening involuntarily, and his steps quickening.
She was undressing him with exquisite slowness, as though he were every present rolled into one, indulging herself, pausing to nibble at his heated flesh, looking long and hard, touching, tasting again, as each golden inch was revealed to her. By the time Ty removed Steve’s shirt, he was shaking, bright flags of color staining his cheeks, his eyes glittering in the subdued light of the bedside lamp.
“You’re so beautiful,” Ty breathed, her hands gliding over the sculpted contours of his chest. Beneath her palms, Steve’s lungs were working like bellows, drawing in deep draughts of air. She smiled at the novel sensation, amazed she affected him so. The power she wielded was heady. Testing it, her fingers spread, lightly tracing the ridges that delineated his ribcage, thrilled when he shivered, started, and dragged more air into his lungs.
“Ty, I’m dying here.” Though his voice was raw with need, Steve made no move to stop her exploration.
Ty laughed softly. “Oh, no,” she contradicted happily. “You seem very much alive to me.” Her gray eyes watched as the tip of her nail followed the beguiling path of dark blond hair leading from his stomach to where it disappeared behind the top metal button of his jeans.
With the same agonizing deliberation, Ty’s fingers set about a new task, freeing one flat metal button at a time, pausing now and again to brush against the rigid proof of his arousal straining against the denim. When her fingers reached for the last button, Steve’s hands grabbed her wrists, stopping her. “Ty, look at me.” The harsh, barely controlled timbre of his voice causing liquid heat to pool in Ty’s center. His face, too, thrillingly different now, stark with passion. “I need to know,” he commanded softly, his eyes searching hers. “Have you done this before? It’s a question of pace here, sweetheart. If this is your first time, I don’t want to rush you. Problem is, you’ve got me real close to the edge.”
A quick shake of her head. “No, never,” Ty whispered. She searched his face for a sign of disappointment, relief flooding her as his lips sought hers in a kiss more eloquent than words. She was his. Only his. A fierce possessiveness had swept through Steve at Ty’s whispered admission. His heart pounded with the knowledge. “I wouldn’t have thought it possible. A beautiful woman like you,” he murmured, his lips freeing hers with a smile.
“Well, it wasn’t as if I actually planned to be a twenty-five-year-old virgin or anything,” Ty replied, discomfited. “A long time ago, in Switzerland, I came awfully close. But then I realized I was about to do something for all the wrong reasons, the principal motive being revenge. It seemed pretty ridiculous to have sex with someone just to spite my father.” She ducked her head. “Fortunately, the boy I was with was quite understanding. Since then, though, I haven’t been involved with anyone I care enough about to trust.”
“And you trust me?” His hands were framing her face, lifting it so that he could look deeply into her eyes, captivating in the half-light.
“Yes,” she said simply, loving the feel of his hands against her skin. Loving him. With a wistful smile, she continued, “I obviously can’t pretend any vast sexual experience. On the other hand, it seems as though since about a week ago, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, how wonderful it’d be to have you touch me like this.” At that her body swayed closer, her lips parting in a sigh of pleasure as his arms enveloped, his hands welcomed her, proving her words. Her eyes drifted shut, lost in sensation. His lips brushed butterfly kisses over her closed lids. “This could be pure coincidence, but I’ve been thinking pretty much the same thing. Seems to me it’s time to put thoughts into actions.”
“Oh, yes,” was all Ty managed before Steve captured her mouth, his tongue now mating feverishly with hers, setting off fine tremors within her. Ty’s arms lifted, encircling his neck, pressing urgently, wantonly against him.
He urged her even closer, inviting her to feel the bold heat of his erection. He heard her breath catch as his hands, after beguiling her with lazy caresses, reached their destination. Apracticed flick of his fingers had Ty’s bra falling away.
It was beyond exquisite, the feel of his strong hands covering her, replacing the silken barrier, the feel of her aching nipples pressed against his palms. Ty arched closer, her breath shuddering, mixing with Steve’s as hands and mouth claimed her.
With heated whispers and broken moans, Ty and Steve fell as one onto the enormous bed, rolling, limbs entangled, locked, and gloriously naked. Delirious with pleasure, Ty’s senses were overwhelmed. By Steve’s mouth, his hands, the feel of his hard body moving over her, by the needy, heated words whispered in her ear.
Blindly, Ty reached for him, guiding him to her, whimpering in frustration when he resisted, pulling back to sit on his heels, depriving her of his glorious weight. An inarticulate cry escaped her lips, her eyes pleaded, and her arms reached to draw him back down.
With a fiercely gentle smile, Steve’s hand smoothed her brow, his, too, damp with sweat. “Shh, easy, love. Just a sec, I promise. You need protection.” He leaned over and pulled the nightstand drawer open, retrieving the small foil packet. The smile turned roguish, quickening her breath. “Would you like . . .”
“Oh, yes, please.” She sat up beneath him, an eager student.
Steve grinned. Always polite, his Ty. The grin vanished, as he sucked in his breath, nearly undone. Polite and wonderfully imaginative, too. Her hands were carefully smoothing the condom over his shaft. Task complete, they were in no way finished with him. Sweat beaded his forehead as she handled him boldly, exquisitely.
Submitting for as long as he could, Steve shoved her gently back down onto the mattress. “My turn now.” A wicked promise. Moving down her body, his tongue and teeth sampled, tasted, blazing a fiery trail along the silky-smooth length of her, until at last he reached the apex of her thighs, the dark nest of curls. A feathery touch, and his fingers came away wet with her slick heat. He murmured his approval, but knew he wanted more for her. He wanted to give her everything. One finger sliding, then two, her broken cries at the feel of him inside her the sweetest sound. Almost there. They slid upwards, stretching gently, pushing, as his mouth descended, finding her.
Ty’s scream of pleasure filled the room, her climax breaking, ripping through her. Hips lurching off the bed, Steve’s mouth and fingers following, absorbing her violent tremors. Then, as her body began to settle, he was over her, knees spreading hers wide. Feeling his fingers withdraw, Ty half sobbed, half whimpered, her body instinctively following.
God, she was tight. “Ty, look at me.” Their eyes locked at the roughly whispered command, as Steve positioned himself and pushed inexorably into her slick heat.
She was panting beneath him, eyes as huge as a gray dawn, lips swollen from his kisses, so beautiful he thought his heart would never be the same. “Kiss me, Ty.” As he captured her mouth, his hips flexed, thrusting deep past the barrier, imbedding himself. That decisive movement sending her beyond words, beyond thoughts, beyond anything she’d ever known before.
She was draped over him, one knee bent across his leanly muscled thighs, her breasts pressed against him, watching with rapt fascination the meandering pattern her index finger traced across his chest, around the flat circle of his nipples, and down the taut line of his stomach. Steve’s own hand was moving, too, stroking the length of her back, the gentle slope of her buttocks, back up her spine. His heart thudded steady and strong in his chest, at last having resumed its normal rhythm. A smile had been growing on her face with each kiss and every languorous lathing of her tongue over Steve’s cooling flesh. At last a giggle escaped, quickly muffled by another kiss.
“You’re, of course, going to tell me what’s got you so happy. Besides the obvious, though any and all compliments would be much appreciated.”
“You, Steve, are the very last person to require ego stroking,” Ty replied, lifting her head to brush his lips with hers, the smile in her eyes, too. “But here goes. I was just thinking that this was most definitely worth waiting for.” Her voice became low with emotion. “And that I’d have been willing to wait a lifetime if it meant I could be with you, like this, even once.”
“Thank you, Ty.” Hands no longer directionless reached, pulling her under him in a single fluid motion, then lifted to cradle her face. Lips melded, sharing honeyed happiness. “Thank you,” Steve murmured huskily again, “for coming into my life.”
“
Y
ou certain you can handle a stick shift? It’s not like your Bug, you know.”
Steve was fingering the collar of her shearling coat. She shivered in helpless response, her body now so sensitized to his touch that even the light caress across that area, where her hair was drawn back and held in place with a thick barrette, had Ty trembling, desire stirring deep within her. A desire that seemed infinite, neverending. Ty remembered how easily Steve had summoned it only a short time ago. Rousing her from sleep into the heated bliss of his lovemaking. Her body felt it still. Tingled and ached ever so sweetly.
Lips pursed, she rolled her eyes, pretending to be insulted. “Yes, I can handle a stick shift.” If they’d had more time, she’d have saucily suggested taking him back inside where she could prove it. But that would have to wait for New York. “I promise I won’t grind the Jaguar’s gears even once.”
Steve’s expression was skeptical; she could see it even in the darkness of this cold November morning.
“Really, Steve,” Ty insisted, “I have driven some nice cars before.”
And Ty was looking forward to getting behind the wheel of something a little more muscular than the Volkswagen. The Jaguar was beautiful, she could see why Steve fussed over it. Ty hadn’t even been aware that Steve owned any vehicle other than his beat-up truck, until he’d backed the Jag out with a full-throttled roar from the garage the day before. A gold XKE convertible, its license plate sporting
“FF1.”
“Palm Beach Grand Prix. The Jaguar Classic,” Steve had offered in explanation as she’d stood, openly admiring its sleek lines. “Fancy Free blew away the competition. We also won a Volvo that year, but I sold it. That was the Year of the Car for us.”
Understanding that ninety percent of what made the car so important to Steve was its tie to Fancy Free had her rising on her toes and placing a trail of light kisses along his stubbled jaw. “Steve, I promise I’ll take excellent care of it.”
His hands stroked, drawing her closer. “All right.” Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he added,
“Because, you know, Bubba can drive . . .”
“No.” Ty shook her head, her ponytail brushing his knuckles. “Bubba should ride in the van. He’s much more use to you there than I could ever be. I’ll drive behind.
Carefully.”
“Okay,” Steve agreed reluctantly. “Now, when we get to the Garden, you peel off and take the car to the hotel’s garage. Bubba, Enrique, and I will deal with Gordo and Mac. You remember which side-street entrance to use at the Garden to reach the stalls? You’ve got your visitor’s pass?”
Ty nodded. “In my purse.” Steve wasn’t leaving a single detail to chance. She stifled a yawn, feeling her eyes grow heavy. It was barely quarter to four in the morning, and his hands were doing such wonderful things to the back of her neck. If she’d been a cat, she’d have arched her back and purred her contentment.
But Steve was still talking. “After we’ve rendezvoused at the Garden, you and I can go back to the hotel. Gotta make sure you get some rest. Big night tonight.” Warm breath fanned her face, his mouth descending, his arms enfolding her, and he was tasting her as though they had all the time in the world, as though the van’s engine wasn’t running and the horses weren’t bandaged, waiting to be loaded, equipment checked . . . everything ready for the four A. M. scheduled departure. God, he felt wonderful, she thought, kissing him back. So right, hard and warm against her. His hands had slipped inside her coat, bringing their bodies into achingly perfect alignment. She heard a low growl of hunger when Ty tugged on his lower lip, biting down gently. A week and a half had passed, days filled with work—riding, telephoning, organizing what seemed like a myriad of different details—followed by nights cocooned in the strength of his arms, a place where she was made to feel beautiful, cherished, desired.