It Had to Be You (23 page)

Understanding came slowly. She remembered what she had whispered to him, how she had told him not to stop no matter what she said. She remembered his twisted relationship with Valerie, and as it all came back to her, her relief was so sharp a bubble of hysteria rose in her throat.

He sank down on the corner of the bed, propped his forearms on his splayed knees, and gazed glumly out toward the living room. “Maybe it’s divine justice. When I was in my twenties, I took part in so much kinky stuff with all those groupies that now I can’t seem to manage something simple and uncomplicated.”

She drew the spread to her chin. “Dan—uh— Could I say something?”

“Not if it involves whips and dog collars.” He paused. “Or more than two people.”

The bubble rose higher in throat She gave a choked sound. “It doesn’t.”

“All right, then.”

She spoke to his back, picking her words carefully. “I didn’t mean what you thought I meant. When I told you not to stop no matter what I said, I was talking about kissing. You’re really an—uh—an excellent kisser.” She took a deep breath, pressing on even though she knew she was making a muddle of it. “I get— Well, I have a couple of hang-ups. Not hang-ups, really; hang-ups is too strong a word. More like—like an allergy. Anyway, sometimes when I’m kissing a man, I have this sort of reaction.”

She knew she was babbling from the way he turned his head to stare at her. His chest distracted her. Cast in bronze and sitting in the front window at her old gallery, it would have made them a fortune.

She swallowed hard. “I was just trying to tell you that if I had it—this reaction—you could sort of . . .”

“Ignore it?”

“Right. But the other— When we weren’t kissing. When you were touching me.” The bubble dissolved. “When I said stop, I meant stop.”

His eyes darkened with regret. “Phoebe . . .”

“If I ever say stop to you, I mean stop. Always.” She drew a deep breath. “No questions. No second-guessing. I’m not your ex-wife, and sexual violence isn’t a game I play. With me, stop means stop.”

“I understand, and I’m sorry.”

She knew she would burst into tears if she had to listen to another basket load of regrets from him that would only make her feel even more inept.

“About this kissing allergy.” He rubbed his chin, and she thought she detected amusement in his eyes. “What if the two of us decide to kiss each other again. And you have this allergic reaction, and you say stop. Am I supposed to stop then?”

She looked down at the bedspread. “Even then, I guess. I’m not going to send out any more mixed signals.”

Reaching forward, he brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

She had intended to get up and put on her clothes, but now as he touched her so gently, she couldn’t move. She felt his warmth as he came closer and knew he was going to kiss her again. She was no longer afraid. Instead, the slow heat of desire rekindled inside her—not a raging fire, but a small, cozy flame.

“You don’t like my underwear,” she whispered against his mouth.

“No.” He nibbled at her bottom lip. “But I like what’s inside it a whole lot.” His fingertips trailed along the bumps of her spine as his mouth settled over hers.

The kiss was both gentle and passionate, full of sizzle and sweetness. At that moment she wanted to make love with him more than she’d ever wanted anything. His tongue invaded her mouth. Her hands slipped to his arms, but then she wished she hadn’t touched him there because she didn’t want to be reminded of his strength, only his gentleness. How did she know he would stay gentle?

“Dan?”

“I know you said you didn’t want any—you know—any kinky stuff.”

She could feel him stiffen, and she almost lost courage as he drew away. Sinking back against the pillows that bunched at the headboard, the spread still clutched to her chest, she spoke in a rush. “This isn’t all that kinky. Really, it’s not.”

“Maybe I’d better be the judge of that. And I’m warning you—I’m getting more conservative every day.”

Her courage left her. “Forget it.”

“We’ve gone this far; you might as well get it off your chest.”

“I was just— Never mind.”

“Phoebe, if things keep progressing at their current rate, it’s about eighty percent guaranteed we’re going to be intimate before this night’s over, so you’d better tell me what’s on your mind. Otherwise, the whole time we’re going at it, I’ll be waiting for you to bark like a dog or tell me to call you Howard.”

She gave him an unsteady smile. “I’m not that imaginative. I wanted to ask—I mean, would you mind very much if we—” She got stuck and tried again. “If we pretend I’m a—”

“Lion tamer? Prison guard?”

“A virgin,” she whispered and felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

He gazed at her. “A virgin?”

She dropped her eyes, mortified at what she’d revealed. “Forget it. Forget I said anything. Let’s just do it.”

“Phoebe, darlin’, what’s going on here?” He brushed his index finger over her lips.

“There’s nothing going on.”

“You can tell me. I’m sort of like a bedroom priest; I’ve pretty much heard it all. Have you ground out so many miles between the bedposts that you want to turn back the odometer a little?”

“Something like that,” she murmured.

“I don’t have a whole lot of experience with virgins to draw on. Matter of fact, I don’t recall that I have any. Still, I s’pose I could use my imagination.” And then his eyes narrowed. “I don’t have to pretend that you’re sixteen or anything, do I, because that kiddie stuff turns me off.”

“Thirty-three,” she whispered.

“That old?”

He was teasing her, and she knew it, so she tried to sound offhand. “Why not? Maybe one of those dried-up women who’s secretly afraid of men. Somebody like that.”

“Now this is getting kinda interesting.” His thumb brushed along the very top of her breasts, just above the edge of the bedspread. “I don’t suppose a woman like you would let me have another look at what you’ve got hidden under here?”

“As long as you don’t say anything nasty about them.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“You did. You told me to show you my—”

He pressed his finger over her lips. “That wasn’t me. Only a real jerk would talk like that.”

She loosened her grip on the spread. Slowly, he lowered it, letting the cover fall to her waist.

“Now a man like
me
would appreciate a sight like this.” Despite his words, he didn’t even look. Instead, he was studying her face.

Before she knew it, she was the one touching him. She ran her palms over his arms and along his shoulders. She was entranced with the contrast between his iron-hard muscles and the gentle way he nuzzled her neck. He trailed kisses along her jaw, nibbled her chin, the corner of her mouth. Finally he drew back and looked down at her breasts.

They had been painted by Flores and viewed by multitudes, but she felt as if they were being seen for the first time. He touched her. Just the pads of his thumbs on the very tips of her nipples, and the feeling was so exquisite that she sighed, an expression of desire and pleasure that spread all the way to her toes.

“Lean back,” he whispered.

She sank into the pillows. He continued to touch her like that, just the very tips of her nipples, until she didn’t think she could bear it any longer. She had never experienced desire like this, so warm and liquid with no place for fear. He slipped his hand farther into her panties.

“Stop.”

He immediately withdrew.

She smiled. “I want to see you.” Going up on her knees, she reached for his zipper, then found the courage to slide it down over the heavy bulge that strained the denim.

“Hold on a minute, darlin’.” He stilled her hands before she could go further and got up from the bed to disappear into the bathroom. He reappeared a moment later.

Her lips curved as he tossed a handful of foil-wrapped condoms on the table at the side of the bed. “What an ego.”

“How would a maiden lady like you even know what those are?”

“Public television.”

Now he was the one with the grin, and she realized this was the first time she had ever laughed in bed with a man. Until this moment, she had never imagined that laughter and sex could go together.

“Where were we?”

She was amazed at her own boldness as she reached for the open V of his jeans. “Right here, as I remember.” She couldn’t believe how urgent her need was to see him. Instead of being afraid, she was experiencing a heady mixture of curiosity and lust.

“Don’t faint on me.”

“I’ll try not to.” She pushed the denim away and then swallowed hard as he sprang free from a pair of white cotton briefs.

“Oh, my.” Her gasp wasn’t feigned.

He chuckled. “Take deep breaths.”

“Maybe it’s just because your hips are so narrow. The contrast . . .”

“That’s one way of looking at it.” He smiled as he pulled off what was left of his clothing and stood naked before her.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. His shoulders were broad and powerful, his hips narrow with an almost concave abdomen. One of his knees was scarred, as was his opposite calf.

“This peep show works two ways, you know.” He nodded toward the part of her still hidden beneath the spread that had settled in her lap.

“I’m too shy,” she replied, sinking back on her heels.

“I guess I can understand that. Considering your inexperience and everything.” The mattress sagged as he settled down on the edge. “What I’m going to suggest is this. Since you’re a maiden lady, you might be less embarrassed if you just reached under the cover, slipped off what you’ve got left, and handed it out”

Lowering her eyes, she leaned back into the pillows and did as he suggested. As she dropped her panties at the side of the bed, she could barely control her excitement over this crazy, unpredictable seduction.

He lay down next to her on a bent elbow, slipped his other arm under the cover and drew up her knee to play with her ankle bracelet “You just tell me to stop any time you get nervous.”

An overwhelming flood of emotion washed through her. Even though he was teasing, he would never know how much those words meant.

Leaning forward, he started kissing her again: lips, breasts, sweet, hot kisses burning her skin, while she kissed him back and his hand moved higher under the covers until he was stroking her inner thighs.

“Spread open just a little bit for me now,” he whispered.

She moved her legs. The cover fell away except for a small corner between her thighs. He brushed it aside.

She waited for him to make some crack about her being a natural blonde, but he didn’t say anything. She drew a deep, shuddering breath as he began to explore her.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

“I’m glad.”

“Would you stop?”

He withdrew his hand.

Joy and lust swirled inside her when she realized he had done as she’d asked. His compliance gave her courage. She twisted her body so that she was above him, her breasts gently swaying, the nipples stirring the hair on his chest. She watched his expression as she began her own sensual mission, trailing her hand down over his chest to his belly, which was covered with a thin sheen of perspiration.

She slipped lower and touched him. He caught his breath. She felt him rigid and pulsing in her hand, straining for release, and once again, fear mingled with desire. This time, however, desire was stronger.

“We’re getting close to the point of no return,” he whispered hoarsely.

She shook her head. Fondled him. “You promised.”

“Stop,” he groaned.

She did.

He rolled over so that he was once again looking down at her. “Let’s get you ready, virgin lady,” he whispered, “ ’cause I don’t think I can hold off much longer.”

It was so good.

He prepared her with his fingers as if she were brand-new. Emotions she couldn’t name filled her heart while his deep stroking sent waves of fire surging through her. His breathing was heavy, his skin flushed. He stopped to reach for one of the foil packets and sheathed himself before he returned to his caresses.

“You’re so tight,” he whispered, as he shifted his hips and poised himself to enter her. “It’s almost like—”

“Stop,” she sobbed, even though she knew he had gone past the point where he would listen.

But he rolled off. Fell back. Sweat beaded his forehead. “You’re killing me,” he gasped, his chest heaving.

She couldn’t believe he’d kept his promise, and in those moments she loved him. She told herself it wasn’t a permanent emotion, not happily-ever-after, but an ephemeral love born of gratitude. Along with her heart, her whole body opened to him, demanding that he fill her and trusting him to do no damage. She clutched at his shoulders, drew him back.

He clasped her behind the knees and spread her thighs.

“Slow,” she pleaded. “Don’t hurt.”

“Oh, I won’t, darlin’,” he said as he parted her. “I wouldn’t hurt you for anything.”

And he didn’t. His entry was achingly slow, and he watched her the whole time, green eyes half-lidded, neck muscles rigid, skin damp. She could feel his iron control, even as her body stretched to take him. He began pumping inside her, and her own control slipped away.

“That’s right,” he whispered, as her head thrashed on the pillow and tiny moans slipped through her lips. “Make some noise for me, baby. Make all the noise you want.”

He thrust deeply, and she moved with him. The sensation was wonderful and frightening. She began to spiral, and now it was not his loss of control that threatened her, but her own. Her fingers dug into the steely bands at his shoulders. Something was happening to her. Something wonderful. Something terrifying. If she lost control ... She opened her mouth and sobbed, “Stop!”

The sound he made was barely human, a strangled exclamation deep in his throat. This time she knew he wouldn’t listen. He had traveled too far and her request was no longer fair.

But he withdrew. This iron-willed man who could have overpowered her in an instant acceded to her wishes and fell back into the pillows, skin flushed, veins throbbing in his neck, chest heaving.