Come Lie With Me (18 page)

Dione frowned. “Wanted me? But you couldn't—”

“That's what I've been lying about,” he admitted, kissing her again.

She jerked back, her cheeks going scarlet. “What?” she gasped, mortified when she thought of the effort she'd made to arouse him, and the money she'd spent on seductive clothes.

Wryly he surveyed her furious face, but braved the wildcat's claws and pulled her back into his arms. “Several things you did made me think that you might have been mistreated,” he explained.

“So you decided to show me what I'd been missing,” she exploded, pushing at his chest. “Of all the sneaky, egotistical snakes in the world, you're at the top of the heap!”

He chuckled and gently subdued her, using the strength that she'd given him. “Not quite. I wanted you, but I didn't want to frighten you. So I pretended that I
couldn't make love to you; all I wanted was for you to get to know me, learn to trust me, so I'd have a chance at least. Then you started dressing in those thin shirts and shorts, and I thought I'd go out of my mind. You damn-near killed me!” he said roughly. “You touched me constantly, driving me so wild I'd almost exploded out of my skin, and I'd have to hide my reaction from you. Didn't you wonder why I'd been working like a maniac?”

She sucked in a shaky breath. “Is that why?”

“Of course it is,” he said, touching her lip with his finger. “I tried to get you used to my touch, too, and that only made my problem worse. Every time I kissed you, every time I touched your legs, I was driving myself crazy.”

Closing her eyes, she remembered all the times when he'd stared at her with that peculiar, hot light in his eyes. A woman with any real experience would have known immediately that Blake wasn't impotent, but she'd been the perfect, all-time sucker for that line. “You must have laughed yourself sick at me,” she said miserably.

“I haven't been in any shape to laugh, even if it had been a laughing matter. Which it wasn't,” he said. “The thought that someone had hurt you made me so furious I wanted to tear the guy apart. Whoever he was,
he
was the reason you were frightened of me, and I hated that. I'd have done anything to make you trust me, let me love you.”

She bit her lip, wishing that she could believe him, but how could she? He made it sound as if he'd been so concerned for her, and all he'd really been concerned with was his own sexual appetite. She knew how touchy he'd been about letting even Serena see him while he
was less than perfect; he wouldn't want to make love to a woman who might pity him for the effort it took him to walk, or, even worse, might want him because of a morbid curiosity. Dione was the one safe female of his acquaintance, the one who knew everything about him already and was neither shocked, curious, nor pitying. “What you're saying is that you wanted sex, and I was handy,” she said bitterly.

“My God, Dee!” He sounded shocked. “I'm not getting through to you, am I? Is it so hard for you to believe that I want
you
, not just sex? We've been through a lot together; you've held me when I hurt so much I couldn't stand it any longer, and I held you last night when you were afraid, but trusted me with yourself anyway. You're not just a sexual outlet for me; you're the woman I want. I want all of you: your temper, your contrariness, your strength, even your downright bitchiness, because you're also an incredibly loving woman.”

“All right, I absolve you,” she said wearily. “I don't want to talk about it now; I'm tired and I can't think straight.”

He looked down at her, and impatience flickered across his face. “There's no reasoning with you, is there?” he asked slowly. “I shouldn't have wasted my time talking to you. I should have just shown you, like I'm going to do now.”

D
ione drew back sharply, her golden eyes flashing. “Do all men use force when a woman isn't willing?” she said between clenched teeth. “I warn you, Blake, I'll fight. Maybe I can't stop you, but I can hurt you.”

He laughed softly. “I know you can.” He lifted one of her fists and carried it to his lips, where he kissed each knuckle in turn. “Darling, I'm not going to force you. I'm going to kiss you and tell you how lovely you are, and do everything I can think of to give you pleasure. The first time was for me, remember, but the second time is for you. Don't you think I can show you?”

“You're trying to seduce me,” she snapped.

“Mmmm. Is it working?”

“No!”

“Damn. Then I'll have to try something else, won't I?” He laughed again, and pressed his warm lips to her wrist. “You're so sweet, even when you're mad at me.”

“I am not!” she protested, practically insulted by his compliment. “There's not a ‘sweet' bone in my body!”

“You're sweet smelling,” he countered. “And sweet tasting. And the feel of you is sweet torment. Your name should be Champagne instead of Dione, because you make me so drunk I barely know what I'm doing.”

“Liar.”

“What did I do for excitement before I met you?”
he asked wryly. “Fighting with you makes mountain climbing pale in comparison.”

The amusement in his voice was more than she could bear; she was so confused and upset, but he seemed to think it was funny. She turned her head away to hide the tears that welled up. “I'm glad you're getting such a kick out of this,” she muttered.

“We'll talk about that later,” he said, and kissed her. She lay rigidly in his arms, refusing to let her mouth soften and mold itself to his, and after a moment he drew back.

“Don't you want me at all?” he whispered, nuzzling her hair. “Did I hurt you last night? Is that what's wrong?”

“I don't know what's wrong!” she shouted. “I don't understand what I want, or what
you
want. I'm out of my depth, and I don't like it!” The frustration she felt with herself and with him came bubbling out of her, but it was nothing less than the truth. Her mind was so muddled that nothing pleased her; she felt violent, but without a safe outlet for that violence. She'd been violated, hurt, and though years had passed, only now was the anger breaking out of the deep freeze where she'd locked her emotions. She wanted to hurt him, hit him, because he was a man and the symbol of what had happened to her, but she knew that he was innocent, at least of that. But he had dominated her last night, manipulated her with his lies and his truths, and now he was trying to dominate her again.

Furiously she shoved at him, rolling him over on his back. Before he could react she was astride him, her face pagan with the raw force of her emotions. “If there's any seducing to be done, I'll do it!” she raged at him. “Damn you, don't you dare move!”

His blue eyes widened, and a rich understanding crossed his face. “I won't,” he promised, a little hoarsely.

With a sensual growl she assaulted him, using her mouth, her hands, her entire body. A man's sexuality had always been denied to her, but now this man offered himself in spread-eagled sacrifice, and she explored him with voracious hunger. Much of his body she already knew; the sleek strength of his muscles under her fingers; the roughness of the hair on his chest and legs; the male scent that made her nostrils flare. But now she learned the taste of him as she nibbled at his ears, his chin, his mouth; she pressed her lips against the softness of his temple and felt his pulse hammering madly. She kissed his eyes, the strong column of his throat, the slope of his shoulder, the sensitive inside of his elbow.

His palms twitched as her tongue traced across them, and he groaned aloud when she sucked on his fingers. “Hush!” she said fiercely, crouching over him. She didn't want any break in her concentration. As she learned him, her body was coming alive, warming and glowing like something long frozen and slowly beginning to thaw. She moved upward, licked the length of his collarbone, then snaked her tongue downward through the curls of hair until she found the little nipples that hid there. They were tight, as hard as tiny diamonds, and when she bit them he shuddered wildly.

His flat stomach, ridged with muscles that were now writhing under her touch, beckoned her marauding mouth. She traced the arrow of downy hair, played a wet game of sneak attack with his navel, then slithered downward. Her silky hair draped across him as she kissed his legs from thigh to foot, biting the backs of
his knees, dancing her tongue across his instep, then working her way back up.

He was shaking in every muscle, his body so taut that only his heels and shoulders were touching the bed. He was gripping the bedposts, his arms corded as he writhed in tormented ecstasy. “Please…please!” he begged hoarsely. “Touch me! Damn it, I can't take any more!”

“Yes, you can!” she insisted, panting for breath. She touched him, her hand learning him, stroking him, and something close to a howl broke from his throat.

Suddenly she knew. For such vital strength, for such tender power, there was only one resting place, and that was the mysterious depth of her femininity. Male and female, they had been created to join together, the two halves to make a whole. She felt breathless, stunned, as if suddenly the world had shifted and nothing was the same as it had been.

His body was a bow, taut and aching. “Take…me!” he rasped, both in plea and demand, and Dione smiled a radiant, mysterious smile that almost blinded him with the joy of it.

“Yes,” she said, and with aching tenderness moved over him. She accepted him easily. He cried out, but lay still, letting her move as she wished. She looked at him, and golden eyes met blue, communicating wordlessly. She was awed by the rightness of their union, by the heated flares of pleasure that shot through her body. All the barriers were gone now; the fears and nightmares that had prevented her from letting herself enjoy the magic of giving herself to the man she loved had disappeared. She was sensual by nature, but events had taught her to deny that part of herself. No longer. Sweet heaven, no longer. He freed her, not only allowing her
to be herself, but glorying in the woman she was. It was evident in the lost, rapt look he wore, the mindless undulating of his body.

She reveled in him. She adored him, she used him, she sank deeply into the whirlpool of the senses and welcomed the drowning. She was burning alive in the heat of her own body as the pleasure intensified and became unbearable, but still she couldn't stop. The moans and gasping cries that kept forcing themselves from his throat as he fought for control were matched by her own sounds of pleasure, until that pleasure became wildfire and she was consumed by it. She heard a wordless cry lingering in the night air and didn't recognize it was hers, or realize that it was joined by a deeper cry as Blake finally released himself from his sweet torture. She sank down, a long, long way, and sprawled weakly on him. His arms swept up and held her safely, securely in place.

He was kissing her, his mouth all over her face before finally settling on her lips and drinking deeply. She met his tongue with her own, and they lay together for a long time exchanging tired, leisurely kisses.

“You took me apart,” he murmured.

“I put you together again,” she said sleepily.

“I'm not talking about Humpty Dumpty, lady bird, I'm talking about what you did to me.”

“Didn't you like it?”

“I loved it.” A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. “As if you had to ask.” Then he sobered and pushed her hair away from her face so he could read her eyes. “Was it good for you?”

She smiled and ducked her head against him. “As if you had to ask.”

“No bad moments?”

“None,” she said, and yawned.

“Wretch, are you going to sleep on me?” he demanded in mock indignation, but his hands were tender as he stroked her. “You're tired, aren't you? Then sleep, darling. I'll hold you. Just don't move; I want to stay inside you all night.”

She would have blushed, but she was too tired, too satisfied, and he made a wonderful bed. She was boneless, draped over him, protected by him. She eased into sleep with the steady throb of his heartbeat in her ear.

He woke her at dawn with his slow, tender movements. The room was chilled, but they were warm, heated by the excitement that began to curl inside. There was no urgency, no need to hurry. He talked to her and teased her, told her jokes that made her laugh, and her laughter somehow increased her inner heat. He knew her body as well as she knew his, knew how to touch her and make her writhe with pleasure, knew how to gradually move her up the plane to satisfaction. Her trust was a tangible thing between them, evident in her clear, shining eyes as she allowed him to handle her as he pleased. Even when he rolled her onto her back and pinned her with his weight, no shadow of ancient fear darkened her joy. He had earned her trust the night before when he had offered his own body for her enjoyment. How could she deny him the pleasure of hers?

There was pleasure for her, too, a deep and shining pleasure that took her breath away. It was so intense that she almost cried out her love for him, but she clenched her teeth on the words. The time with him was golden but transient, and there was no need to burden him with an emotion that couldn't be returned.

“I'd like to stay in bed with you all day,” he whis
pered against her satiny skin. “But Alberta will be up here soon if we don't put in an appearance. She was worried about you yesterday, almost as much as I was.”

She buried her hands in his thick, dark hair. “Why were you worried? You knew why I was upset.”

“Because I never meant to upset you. I didn't want to remind you of anything that had hurt you, but I did. You were so pale and cold.” He kissed the enticing slope of her breast and smiled at the ripple of response that was evident under her skin.

They showered together; then he sprawled on the bed and directed her dressing. He wanted her to wear the slinky, seductive shorts she'd worn before, and his eyes glittered as he watched her pull them on. He had to return to his room to dress, as he'd come to her stark naked, and stark naked he walked down the hall, moving slowly but with increasing confidence and grace. Tears of pride stung her eyes as she watched him.

 

“It's a beautiful day,” Alberta said with an odd smugness as she served breakfast, and it was so unusual for Alberta to make small talk that Dione glanced at her sharply, but could read nothing in the woman's stoic face.

“Beautiful,” Blake echoed gravely, and gave Dione a slow smile that started her blood racing.

Their workouts were leisurely and remarkably short; Blake seemed more interested in watching her than in lifting weights or walking on the treadmill. He was relaxed, satisfaction lying on him like a golden glow. Instead of trying to slow him down, Dione scolded him for doing so little. “I'm going to have to cut down on the amount you're eating if you aren't going to work any more than this.”

“Whatever you say,” he murmured, his eyes on her legs. “You're the boss.”

She laughed and gave up. If he weren't going to work out, he might as well be walking. It was warmer out than it had been recently, so they walked around the grounds; the only support he used was his arm around her waist. She noticed that he was limping less; even his left leg moved without dragging as badly as it had.

“I've been thinking,” he announced as they returned to the house. “There's no use in waiting until the first of the year before I go back to work. I'm going back Monday; I'll get myself accustomed to the place and what's going on, before Richard takes off.”

Dione stopped and stared at him, her cheeks paling. He saw her expression and misunderstood it; he laughed as he hugged her to him. “I'm not going to hurt myself,” he assured her. “I'll just work in the mornings. Half a day, I promise. Then I'll come home and put myself in your hands again, and you can work me until I drop if that's what you want.”

She bit her lip. “If you're capable of returning to work, then there's no need for me to stay at all,” she said quietly.

He frowned, his hands tightening on her. “There's all the need in the world. Don't even think about leaving me, honey, because I won't let you. You're part of me. We've already been through this once, and it's settled. You're staying here.”

“Nothing's settled,” she denied. “I have to work, to support myself—”

“By all means, work if you want,” he interrupted. “But you don't
have
to. I can support you.”

She jerked back, indignant color staining her face. “I'm not a call girl,” she snapped. “Or a lap dog.”

He put his hands on his hips. “I'll agree with that, but I'm not talking about either of those,” he said, his own temper rising. “I'm talking about marriage, lady, the ‘till death do us part' bit.”

She couldn't have been more startled if he'd turned green before her eyes. She stared at him. “You can't mean that.”