Nightsong (12 page)

Why did she have to be so damn trusting?

He pulled her against him with unnecessary force and took her lips with an inexplicable need to punish. But one taste, one moist, trembling taste of her, and his anger vanished, vanquished by the strength of an emotion he had always deemed as weakness. His arms were gentle around her, and the kiss he’d begun as punishment became a sweet penitence. And then a tender, urgent desire.

His mind reeled. His body ached. She was so pliant, so willing, her lips responding eagerly like a tree that bends to the wind. She pressed her slender, willowy body against him only far enough to entice and entangle his senses before her arms wove a seductive trap around him. But he wouldn’t leave her now, couldn’t move away from her if he’d wanted.

How could he have lived alone for so long without realizing the hollow core of his contentment? If he hadn’t met Elleny, would he have spent the rest of his life in an increasingly cynical shell of solitude? Never knowing, never dreaming there was more? So very much more.

His hands moved to cup the curve of her hips and press her against the throbbing ache she’d created. Cotton-covered thigh met satin in a sensual mating of intent and promise. The sleek material of her robe teased his seeking fingertips, yielding to his touch and then slipping out of his grasp with the elusive ease of mercury.

It was frustrating, exhilarating, and elicited a fleeting memory of his first encounter with sexual desire – when passion and satiation were all that mattered, when there was nothing beyond the frantic rush to possess and assuage.

The flash of remembered youth faded into the knowledge that maturity brought self-control. He hadn’t known that hot, eager ache of wanting in years. That he should experience it now, with Elleny, whom he desired on so many different levels, was an oddly sweet realization and he softened the demanding pressure of his lips, wanting to slow the pacing, to enjoy the moments, to celebrate this communion of body and spirit.

He parlayed a series of zephyr-like kisses into a breathtaking reward of murmured delight. From the corner of her mouth he followed the contours of her cheek to the shadowed softness of her throat. Leaving one hand to shape and maintain the close contact of their lower bodies, he stroked the curve of her spine, feeling the cool, lustrous satin, imagining the warm, silken flesh beneath. He wrapped his fingers in thick strands of sable hair and returned to the tempting fullness of her lips.

Elleny balanced on tiptoe and relaxed into his strong, supporting arms. There was an agonizingly tender sensation stirring within her, a beautiful heat enveloping her. Had she forgotten the pleasures to be found in loving? Or had she truly never before felt this magic consummation of her senses?

Yes,
she thought as his tongue circled her own in a duel of tantalizing promise. She had almost forgotten the simple splendor in sharing her body with a man she loved. But she had never loved anyone in quite the same way she loved Phillip, either. She wanted to touch and caress, excite and possess him. She wanted to demonstrate the love that was just coming into season in her heart.

Her hands slipped beneath his robe to discover the coarse, masculine feel of his chest. She pressed a palm flat against his racing heartbeat and let the constant, quick rhythm flow into her. Her fingers feathered lower to push aside the cumbersome robe and trace the muscular curve of his waist, but they hesitated when her knuckles brushed the elastic waist of his pajama trousers. After a moment shyness lost its bid to desire, and she slid her hand beneath the fabric in bold exploration.

His reaction was immediate – a sharp intake of breath, a low groan of pleasure, and then his hands at her waist, lifting her out of the crushing closeness and setting her back a mere whisper away. Elleny met his eyes and saw the wonder she felt reflected there.

He placed his hand on her shoulder while he stroked her hair and touched her cheek with his other hand. His gaze never left hers, and in his velvet dark eyes she thought it might be possible to drown in yearning. Her body was taut with need, an inner fire burned low and hot within her, but the interlude would not be hurried. And she wouldn’t have wanted it to be any different. Elleny felt the smile coming before ever it curved her lips … lips that were kiss-swollen and rosy from his touch.

“Time-out already, Phillip?” Her brows arched in sudden teasing curiosity, and her fingers danced a playful arabesque amidst the dark curls on his chest. “And to think I was worried about being able to seduce you.”

“Elleny.” It was a murmur of surprise, laced with a definite thread of pleased discovery. His thumb brushed the corner of her smile as his eyes gathered a spark of mischief. “You were right to worry.”

Happiness swirled lazily through her veins. “Really?” She let the word fade into innuendo as her gaze dropped to his waist, but he caught her chin to keep her from looking lower and proving her point.

He sobered then and bent slowly toward her, brushing her lips once and then again, carefully, with a reverence that echoed in the waiting hush of her soul. When he drew back this time, it was only to give himself enough room to release the clasp of her robe and slide it from her shoulders. It fell to her feet in waves of lavender, revealing the diaphanous gown beneath—a gown of palest lilac anchored by narrow ribbon straps. A gown without form that took its shape and its beauty from the woman who wore it.

Phillip caught his breath and let his palm drift in slow wonder from her shoulder to the rounded slope of her breasts and lower to the slight flare of her hips. His hand followed the curvature of her stomach, lingered there, and then wandered upward, pulling the translucent fabric with him.

She trembled at his touch, and he, in turn, trembled at the tactile pleasure of soft fingertips caressing his shoulders. As he cupped her breast in his palm, her hands wandered down the muscular terrain of chest and stomach to sketch control-shattering circles along his inner thigh.

Phillip paused to gaze into her eyes, to wonder at the emotion, the passion within him that was building and churning like a storm on the edge of a summer sky. He was enchanted and aroused by this new, provocative Elleny. Her boldness stirred his desire, and yet, somehow the very fact that she had come to him in a gown of gossamer seduction betrayed her natural shyness. She could have worn nothing beneath the satin robe. The result would have been the same.

Yet the very fact that she had chosen the gauzy gown told him how carefully she had planned, how much she wanted to please him.

The thought wrapped his heart in poignant tenderness, and he lifted her into his arms, holding her tightly to him, exulting in the clasp of her hands at the back of his neck. He kissed her then, a long, searching, searing kiss that left him weak and hungry for more.

So very much more.

Carrying her to the bed, he knelt on the edge of the mattress and lowered her. Then he straightened and smoothed the gown around her, allowing his hands to caress and hold her warmth. With a fingertip he traced one ribbon strap and then strayed to discover the silky hollow between her breasts.

Her sigh was a quivery breath of need, but Elleny lay still, savoring the torturous deliberation of his loving. Her hands would not be still, though, and roamed along his arms. She wanted to know every part of him in the same way she knew a treasured book or favorite song. She longed to be a part of those things he cherished.

He bent his head and kissed her breast. The fabric of her gown clung to her nipple with tantalizing wetness while he duplicated the same arousing circle at the other breast. She felt excessively hot and aching. One sensation followed another, rippling through her and pooling into a molten heat low in her body.

She moved her legs in restless impatience and moaned softly, willing him to end the exquisite seduction of her senses. Her hands cupped his face and urged him to take again her lips that were moist with wanting him.

And he did …as he moved to lie beside her.

For timeless moments there was the perfect mating of lips, the feel of her body pressed and bonded with his in a symmetry age-old and ever-new, the blending of scents – fresh bed linen, a lingering fragrance of cologne, his and hers, the musky smell of night and of love. Elleny drifted, aware of the magic, almost afraid to believe it was real, knowing that, unbelievably, it was.

When he began to ease her gown upward, she turned on her side and captured his gaze with her own. Several seconds slipped past before she found the courage to be practical. “Phillip,” she whispered reluctantly. “I have to leave you for a minute. Just a … a minute.” She faltered into an embarrassing silence and then made herself explain. “No complications, remember? I came prepared to guard against at least one.”

His expression was one of chagrin, and there was a fleeting, but suspicious color along his jaw. “Elleny.” He brought his mouth to hers in a melting confession. “I think I love you.”

She levered her weight on one side and shifted away from him. “I know I love you, Phillip.” Her smile was love-soft and tempting. “But one of us has a lousy sense of timing.” She moved from the bed with a murmured regret and a glow of happiness that nothing could dim.

Phillip watched her as she took a small zippered bag from the pocket of her robe and disappeared into the bathroom, her sheer gown drifting around her slender shape like a silvery mist. He lay back, soothing the protesting ache of his body with her promise of a swift return, feeling a little guilty for not having given a single thought to precaution.

Fortunately, Elleny had.

Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to prevent the other complications.

It was too late for that.

But when the bathroom door opened, recriminations fled. She hesitated in the doorway, naked now, her only covering the sheen of muted light on her skin. Emotion clustered thickly in his throat as she came to him. He extended his hand, she entwined her fingers with his, and he drew her slowly down to his waiting arms.

The banked fires of passion flamed to new life. Elleny felt their heat, felt herself melting down and down into the mindless rapture and thought how much – how very much – she loved this man.

With his hands at her waist, he rolled her beneath him and besieged her with sipping kisses. He tasted every inch of her, and she was breathless with the need to reciprocate. Finally, his pajama pants were cast aside ... somewhere. Finally, her hands were free to touch him ... everywhere. Finally, her lips could learn the texture of his body ... anywhere she chose.

The time ebbed into wonder, moments lengthened into enchantment. Elleny surrendered her thoughts to sensation and her heart into his keeping. And still there was more. More of him to discover. More of herself to share.

The loving drifted from her to him. From him to her. Like a song in the night. Haunting. Beautiful. In search of a home.

At last, an undulating rhythm of desire became their theme and flowed into a gentle joining, male with female, Phillip with Elleny. Soft murmurs, gasping breaths, pleasure and pure delight. A thousand sensations becoming one perfect moment of communion. Passion crescendoed to a consuming rapture and spent itself in climactic chords.

The ecstasy faded slowly, easily into a lingering contentment, and Elleny lay in his embrace, wondrously aware of his strength and the quiet sounds of his breathing. He stroked her cheek with mesmerizing tenderness, and as she turned her head to brush his hand with her lips, she smiled.

No complications,
he had said.

How lucky that her heart hadn’t been listening.

Sunlight poured across the bed, and Phillip shielded his eyes to squint sleepily at the clock. The numerals danced and blurred before his still hazy vision. He yawned, frowned at some nameless, nagging thought that hovered dreamlike on the outer fringes of consciousness, and then focused again on the clock.

Nine twenty-six. Too late to meet Elleny.

Elleny.

The nameless thought took a definite form as he twisted up in bed to gaze at the emptiness beside him.

Gone.

Of course. In a misty corner of recent memory he recalled her whispered goodbye, felt the fleeting farewell of her kiss before the dreams had closed around him again. It had been daybreak then. It was full morning now, and she would be already at the bookstore.

He lay back against the sheets, rested his arm on his forehead, and remembered the night.

It had been beautiful. Better than anything he had known in years. Maybe ever. And yet….

With a low groan of impatience he swung his feet to the floor and sat, head in his hands, on the edge of the bed. Why did morning always bring qualifications? Those important, intrusive little details that seemed somehow unimportant when the sun set. Where did the night’s magic go in the light of day?

He had made love to Elleny. He loved her. She had told him honestly, and in other equally convincing ways, that she loved him. So why was his stomach knotted in a nervous tangle? What difference did it make that he’d made love to her last night instead of waiting until tomorrow or next week? Last night had been inevitable. He couldn’t have stopped it.

“Stop it, Kessler!” he said aloud, as he pushed to his feet. It made a hell of a difference that he hadn’t been honest with her! And he could spend the day searching for justification, but he knew right now it would be a waste of time. He could only hope she would understand that he was new and inexperienced at being in love. And after all, he had tried to warn her there would be complications.

Elleny wasn’t unreasonable. He thought he had a good chance of being forgiven for the lies
he’d
told. He wasn’t at all sure she would forgive him for pointing out the lies that
Mark
had told.

It wasn’t fair. Why did she loyally treasure the memory of a man who’d never even existed? Sooner or later Elleny would have to face facts and realize that her loving marriage to Mark had been a farce. Phillip sighed and speared restless fingers through his hair. Still, it was unfair that he had to be the one to tell her and face the emotional blame that rightfully belonged to someone else.