The Devil and Ms. Moody (10 page)

She felt the thrill he spoke of deep inside, felt it lance through her like a spear. How did he know that was what she wanted? A tiny moan hovered in her throat as he stroked the trembling softness beneath her chin and bent to kiss her. His fingers were warm and demanding, his breath hot and sweet as he fitted his mouth to hers.

He stroked the underside of her chin, showering her with butterfly touches until Edwina yielded helplessly. She parted her lips, whimpering as he dipped his tongue into her mouth. He seduced her with light sidelong touches, probing slowly, almost languidly. Edwina went limp in his arms as he deepened the strokes. A frisson of excitement flared down her spine, melting her all the way to her toes.

“Just once. Princess,” he murmured. “Just this once.”

He caught her by the waist, nearly spanning the width of her with his hands. Cool water cushioned the heat of their bodies as Edwina let herself sway into him, hips first, sighing as her breasts crushed softly against his chest. She closed her eyes, reveling in the textures of him—sex-hardened muscle and silky wings of hair.

“I think I like this,” she said.

“
Finally.
” A groan of satisfaction roughened his voice, and he began to ease her legs open with his knee. “And this?”

Edwina felt a sharp thrill of alarm. Her thigh muscles resisted automatically. And then his husky voice seduced her into sweet submission.

“Come with me, Princess,” he said. “We’re going for a little ride, that’s all.”

She sighed a shocked, blissful sound and went weak with anticipation as he insinuated his leg between hers and brought his thigh up against that tender, vibrant part of her body. His gentle movements as he encouraged her to sit astride him sent dazzling currents of pleasure through her. It was as though he had thrown the switch that controlled all her responses, and she was instantly awash in sensations that she was helpless to stop. He had found the most vulnerable part of her body, and with the slightest pressure, he could send brilliant little starbursts rocketing through her.

“Easy, Princess,” he said, gentling her with his hands as she reached for him. “Relax and enjoy the ride.”

She softened against him helplessly, dizzy with pleasure as he began to rock her slowly and rhythmically. The heat of his muscles, the faint swaying motion, sent melting rivulets of desire through her. The sensations were so riotously sweet that she could hardly believe them. She’d never felt such deep, radiating pleasure. It was almost more stimulation than she could stand.

“No more.” She breathed the words aloud. She could hardly believe what was happening. It was almost as though the feelings were taking control of her, as though
he
were taking control, sapping her strength with every slow spur of pleasure he gave her. It was good,
too
good, and in another moment she would be utterly defenseless against him.

“No more,”
she pleaded.

Diablo heard her, but he couldn’t stop. She was so exquisitely responsive. Every touch, every rocking movement, forced a sweet little cry out of her. Watching her come alive in his arms was the most irresistible thing he’d ever witnessed. She was no innocent, he told himself as she began to move and rock against him. He’d never known an inexperienced woman who responded as she did.

“Easy,” he said, steadying her as she clutched at him. “Relax and let it take you, Princess. Just like the curves, remember?”

Edwina felt such a rush of hunger at the sweet jolts of stimulation that she gripped his arms fiercely and let out a panicky, anguished sound. The longing inside her was so sharp that she couldn’t stop to think about why she felt it, or what she might logically do about it. There was only one thing to do at the moment—assuage the terrible longing, get as close to him as she could.

He slipped a hand inside her tank top and cupped her breast, compressing the tender flesh in his palms. His cool touch shocked her. He was both rough and gentle, and with each flex of his long fingers she felt as though something were being released into her bloodstream, a powerful drug.

Desire flared up in her swiftly, uncontrollably. It was like a torch touched to kerosene. An anguished moan slipped from her throat, and as he began to rock her faster, she pressed herself against him wantonly.

“Make love to me.” she pleaded. “Please—
please
!”

“Easy, Princess.”

Edwina felt his resistance and didn’t care. She was in a fever heat. She had to touch him, feel him everywhere—on her,
inside
her. She was crazy with need.

Diablo felt her fingernails bite into his arms and knew something was wrong. Her cries, sweet before, sounded almost frantic.

“Easy, baby,” he said, catching hold of her arms and holding her back. Almost as quickly as his brain registered the anguish in her face, his intuition told him what had happened. He had misunderstood her quick hot passion. Her urgency had fooled him into thinking she was experienced when she was actually deprived. This was her first time in a very long time, he realized. And he had already aroused her to the point of pain.

He lifted her up bodily and pulled her into his arms with an angry explosion of passion. “Damn,” he said as she cried out, a sound that was heartbreakingly sharp. “Damn, how could I not have known?”

Edwina’s eyes flooded with stinging tears as she shuddered in his arms. Deep muscles clutched inside her, and her body throbbed with tension. She was too badly shaken up to ask him why he’d stopped. All she knew at the moment was that he was a wall of solid warmth, and she desperately needed something hard to press herself against, something hard to relieve the awful clutching pain of desire.

He held her tightly, rocking her until finally the throbbing began to recede and a sigh of relief shuddered through her. Hearing it, he breathed an expletive and buried his face in her hair. His touch became momentarily rougher as he palmed her buttocks and pulled her even closer.

Edwina softened against him with a gasp of awareness, melting into corded thighs, jutting hipbones, and aroused maleness. Warm breath jerked in her throat as she realized what it must have cost him to stop as he had. He was aroused! He was every bit as hard as the rocks they stood on. Every bit as hard. Every bit as wet.

She looked up, silent witness to the flaring tension in his jaw. “Why did you stop?” she asked finally, shakily.

“I never should have started.”

“But why? I don’t understand. I wanted you to go on. I wanted you to make love to me. I
asked
you to.”

He held her away then, staring at her oddly.

Edwina looked at him, confused, her breathing shallow. And then she saw the angry marks her fingernails had left on his arms. She was astonished at what she’d done and instantly ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a horrified whisper. She tried to twist away, but he wouldn’t let her.

“I’m not.” He drew her around to face him. “I’m not, Edwina. You were beautiful and damn sexy.”

“I went crazy”—her voice was soft with disbelief —“is that it? Is that why you wouldn’t make love to me?”

“
No
—hell, no. I wanted to make love to you. Princess. I still do. I can’t think of anything I want more at the moment.”

“Then what is it?”

His fingers were sweetly rigid against the curve of her jaw. “It’s not easy to explain. You’re a kid, really. No, wait—hear me out,” he said as she pulled away. “I’m not talking about age, I’m talking about experience. You’re looking for something, Ed, and don’t deny it. Danger, thrills, a walk on the wild side. You want to discover the ‘other’ Edwina Moody, but you’re afraid of what’s there. So you’re waiting for it to happen, for someone to make it happen.”

“To make what happen?”

“The escape hatch, Alice’s mirror, the way to Wonderland—anything that would let you get outside yourself and—”

“And what?” She dared him to say it.

“Be sexy and unashamed,” he explained, “the ‘other’ Edwina. Your whole life you’ve been waiting for the moment, for the man.”

“And you’re not the man?”

“I could be.”

“But this is not the moment?”

“No, it’s not.”

She reddened again, a scarlet flush that was beautiful against her fair skin. He knew he could have her—now, if he wanted—tonight, tomorrow, whenever he wanted. She was that susceptible, that deprived of physical gratification. He’d seen the type before. If he was right about her, she’d probably spent a lifetime denying her own needs in favor of others, a lifetime of self-sacrifice. The attraction between them might even be the first glimpse she’d had of something for
herself,
all for herself. Her family wouldn’t approve, of course, and that would make it an act of rebellion, a break from the past. Exactly what she wanted, even if she didn’t know it yet.

“It’s okay, Princess,” he said, touching her cheek, testing its downy softness. He wanted to be that man, the one who could set her free. But he didn’t know how without hurting her. And he would hurt her. Women like Edwina Moody were born to be hurt by men who didn’t have names, men who tore up the asphalt and went wherever the next turn in the road took them. Men who couldn’t love anything but their own freedom.

She nuzzled into his hand like a kitten who wanted to be caressed. Diablo felt the hard clutch of desire in his groin. He wouldn’t make love to her. He couldn’t take her this way, not and live with himself. But how the hell did he stop? She was so needy for everything a man could give her. And he wasn’t in a whole lot better condition himself. Lord, he’d been without
so damn long.

She pressed her mouth to his fingers and closed her eyes, an irresistibly aroused woman.

“We’ve got a deal,” he said, jaw muscles knotting.

She looked at him, limpid-eyed. “I don’t care about that.”

“I do. I can’t afford to have you asking questions, hassling the Warlords, almost getting us kicked out again.”

“I won’t.” She stood back from him, her voice tightening. “I can handle myself.”

He purposely let his eyes drift to her breasts and linger there. “You couldn’t prove that by me, Ed.”

Edwina slept by the fire that night. She refused the sleeping bag, even when Diablo offered to let her have it all to herself. Finally he zipped the bags apart, and they slept on opposite sides of the smoldering coals.

Dreams flitted through Edwina’s mind, subliminal flashes that left her exhausted because they were so hauntingly real. She tossed fitfully, unable to release herself from the explicit fantasies or from the yearnings that ached through her body.

The first light of dawn awoke her. The dew was still thick on the ground, and it was much too chilly to leave the sleeping bag, so she curled up for warmth and contemplated the man across the campsite from her. Mr. Easy Rider slept on, oblivious to her wakefulness, and Edwina wanted to thump him for it.

His speech from the night before resonated in her mind. She could have recited it word for word. It wasn’t so much that he’d done the ‘right thing’. A part of her had always known that he was more complicated than he pretended. It was his sensitivity that had surprised her. A hell-for-leather biker with a conscience, she thought ruefully. Maybe even a streak of nobility.

She sighed, bemused, as she thought about what his sudden nobility had done to her. Her body was still thrumming with unrequited urges. She ought to have been worrying about what they’d done last night. Instead, she was obsessed with what they
hadn’t
done. He’d given her an irresistible taste of the drugging pleasure he could bring her, and then he’d cut her off. Just enough to get good and hooked, she thought, sighing.

She could only imagine what his nobility must have cost
him.
It had to be agonizing for a man to reach a state of total physical arousal and not act on it. And he had reached that state with her, several times. She’d felt the physical proof of it. What she didn’t understand was why he fought it.

He shifted in the sleeping bag, his hair falling across his face as he turned toward her. He was a mystery, she thought, and mysteries had always attracted her. There were occasions when she had watched him grow silent and distant, as though drifting somewhere else, an unmoored boat. She wondered where he went when his eyes were far away....

“Welcome to the living,” she said when he finally roused. She had coffee on by then, and he nodded when she lifted the blackened aluminum pot and offered him some.

He’d dragged himself out of the sleeping bag by the time she’d poured the coffee. As she walked toward him, he raised his head and absently raked a hand through the dark hair dusting his chest. He was still half asleep, drowsy and tousled, wearing only jeans. He looked sexy and adorable, dammit, she thought, handing him the coffee. An errant nerve ending ticked in the cleft between her breasts.

“Saved my life,” he said, taking the cup. His voice was husky, hoarsened by residues of sleep.

Their fingers brushed briefly, and Edwina felt a thrill that was sharp and galvanizing, nearly as intense as those the night before. She stepped back, fully aware that to be anywhere near him was to risk a sexual response. Since last night her body had become a barometer where he was concerned, exquisitely calibrated, sensitive to every hairbreadth change in his mood.

“I’m going to wash up.” She turned away from his curious gaze and headed for the river, aware of his eyes on her. She hoped the sight of her departing backside was giving him half as much grief as he’d been giving her.

She needn’t have worried. Diablo felt as though someone had kneed him viciously in the groin as he watched her walk away. A reaction that was the legacy of last night’s encounter, he knew. Another bout with her like that one, and he’d be in the emergency room.

“Not a chance,” he said aloud. He damn well wasn’t going to make love to her, no matter how incredible it promised to be. He wasn’t in the business of providing stud service for repressed females. He finished off his coffee in two gulps, conveniently ignoring the complexity of the woman he was dealing with. Frustration had a way of driving a man to simplistic answers, but somewhere in the back of Diablo’s mind he knew that if Edwina Moody was repressed, she was also an erotic time bomb, and things were going to get a lot more complicated before they got simple.