Unsafe Haven (15 page)

“Champagne?” Conroy released her fingers, already mourning the loss of her touch, and reached for the chilled bottle. He opened it with deft hands, priding himself on his ability to loosen the impossibly tight seal without sacrificing its effervescence. “I despise a hasty hand, don’t you? Champagne is meant to keep every bubble until all its many nuances can burst within the confines of the flute.” He poured, admiring his handiwork for a moment, before replacing the bottle in its icy nest.

He set her flute within reach of her hand and resumed his seat. With a merry clink, they touched crystal to crystal in a salute. He relished how she enjoyed her very first sip of a superlative bubbly. “What do you think, my dear? Do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful.” She sipped delicately and giggled when the bubbles danced against her nose. “It tickles.”

He took a healthy swallow from his own flute and let the crispness float over his tongue. Delightful.

For a few minutes they sipped, immersed in the atmosphere he’d created, and listened to the weeping strings of one of his favorite classical pieces. The candlelight made love to her eyes, her stunning face, her slender body in the designer dress. He’d purchased it, just for her.

“Do you like your dress?” He smiled at her over the rim of his champagne flute.

She brushed her hand along the fitted line, from shoulder to hip. “It’s lovely. I’ve never worn pink before. But I like it.”

Conroy frowned slightly at her response.
Never worn pink?
He cocked an eyebrow quizzically. “My dear, you always wear pink, for me. Always.” His eyes narrowed at the blankness of her expression.

She offered a vague shrug. “All right.”

His good humor restored, he gestured toward her drink. “Do finish up, darling, and I’ll serve dinner. I’ve created something very special for you. It’s my own personal recipe.”

“Dinner? I wasn’t expecting dinner.” She sent him a puzzled look.

“Nonsense, we always have dinner together.” He busied himself pouring more champagne. She placed her hand over her flute to keep him from refilling hers, and he abruptly pushed it aside. “You’ll have two glasses. Never just one.” His frown deepened and he leaned closer. He murmured, “You seem to be forgetting things, my dear. Maybe you’re coming down with something. We’ll make an appointment with my family physician.”

“We will?” Her brow crinkled at his assurances. “I don’t understand. I feel fine. And I have my own doctor.” She rose from the table.” Maybe I should go now.”

His hand came down hard on her shoulder and pinned her in place. “I don’t think so.”

In the deepening shadows of the apartment, Denn told himself to go slow, let her lead, let her decide. Every blood cell in his body wanted fast, urgent,
now.
He clamped down on himself. Tonight was for Kendall, what she needed, what she wanted.

She drove him slowly insane.

Those slender, neat hands with their pretty nails and soft palms . . . over his chest they moved, a maddening touch. Their heat soaked through his shirt and he wanted nothing more than to rip it from his body and let her fingers loose on his bare skin.

Not yet, you ass.

Light sweet kisses, everywhere. Jesus save him, they were devastating to his already overloaded system. Full lips, hot tongue, tasting, rubbing, claiming him. She hadn’t missed a spot yet. Everywhere her mouth roamed, he burned.

Her body wriggled on his, as if seeking just the right angle to zap what was left of his sanity and send it straight through the roof. Still fully clothed, she was a menace.

What’ll she be like when she’s bare and wet and all over me?

She pulled back, once, to stare into his eyes, her own heavy-lidded. He ached to see the blue of them, somewhere under those brown contacts she wore.
Soon. She’ll trust me to protect her and those damned shields will come off.
He traced the elegant bones of her face with callused fingertips.

She sighed. “Feels good.” A tilt of her head and her lips touched his thumb and left a moist caress there. Every muscle in his body tightened.

Her hair fell around him, a curtain of satiny curls. He caught one with his lips and tasted flowers. Time seemed to slow down to a spun-out, forever moment as she lay on his body and ran her hands over him. With each touch, she grew bolder, more confident. Every stroke of her lips intensified, until her mouth crushed his in a kiss that would have crossed his eyes had they been open.

Wet, searing, endless.

Her legs moved restlessly against his while her hands dug into his waist, and then lower. Through her jeans, he felt the heat of a woman in the throes of her own lust, and the knowledge sent his mind reeling. The need to yank her beneath his body and drive himself deep almost overpowered him, making his hands too rough when they cruised over each breast and pressed the rounded flesh.

She gasped against his mouth. “Denn, I—” She squirmed in a flash of panic he could sense through his own impassioned haze.

Denn moved his hands to her shoulders, saw for himself how his fingers trembled. He battled to hold his voice steady and reassuring. “Too much, too fast?”

She dropped her forehead on his chest. “I think—yeah. I’m sorry.” Her breath caught on a low sob. “I didn’t mean to be a tease. I’d never act like that, and I hate women who do.”

“You’re not a tease, don’t even think it. You have a lot to overcome.” He stroked her tumbled hair. “Maybe someday you’ll tell me more, help me understand everything. But for now . . .” He maneuvered her body until he spooned her and she rested against him with her head on his shoulder. “Close your eyes.” He touched her eyelids to assure she obeyed him. Her lashes fluttered, softer than velvet.

“What are you—”

“Shh. Trust me. We’re going to take this easy, okay? Relax. Clear your mind, and just let yourself feel.”

She flinched when his fingers dug into her shoulder. Conroy smiled and squatted next to her chair, slipping his hand to her cheek, turning her face toward his. This close, her skin wasn’t as fresh, her eyes not as blue. He stared at her hair, brassier than usual, and the slope of her nose. Where had that bump come from?

Conroy frowned as a dull throb between his eyes indicated the onset of a migraine. He pushed it away. Nothing would ruin this night for him.

“I’ll serve dinner now.” He gripped her shoulder a final time and she emitted a tiny whimper. “You don’t have to lift a finger, my darling Victoria. It’s my pleasure to serve you. I’ve prepared your favorite. Prime rib.”

“What are you—okay, this has gone far enough. I’m all for role-playing, but you’re not worth it.” She struggled against his hold, trying to pry his fingers loose. “Let go of me, damn it! I’m a vegetarian. You couldn’t pay me enough to eat beef, much less do you afterward. I don’t care how much money you gave my pimp. And I’m not your fucking Victoria.”

She bared her teeth and snapped at his wrist, fighting his other hand when it twisted against her scalp and yanked off the curly blond wig. Underneath, her hair was short, wispy, and black as pitch.

Pain blinded him, sharp and harsh, blossoming between his eyes, and he gaped in disbelief at the woman who writhed beneath his hands, screeching the foulest of obscenities.

She wasn’t Victoria.

Not Victoria!

He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them, thinking they might be playing tricks on him. But no, there she was, this black-haired, foul-mouthed, diseased . . .
thing
. . . where his beloved Victoria should have been.

As the dinner, so lovingly prepared for his fiancée, burned on the stove in his gourmet kitchen, Conroy felt his migraine expand into mammoth proportions. With a roar of fury, he wrapped his hands around the whore’s neck, and squeezed.

Kendall slowly relaxed in his arms. Denn slipped his hand beneath her shirt and skimmed his fingertips along the baby-soft skin of her stomach. Her naked flesh rippled under his touch, but she didn’t tense up or move away. He took it as a good sign.

“Breathe in and out. Deep breaths. Let your muscles go soft and loose.” She obeyed immediately, and he pressed his lips to the side of her neck. Her heartbeat sent an uneven pulse against his mouth. He let his hand roam, one finger tracing her navel. She shivered.

He smiled. So responsive, so sensual. She didn’t even realize how utterly sensual she was. But he did.

When his hand brushed against the low waistband of her jeans and his palm settled lightly over her center, her body shuddered and her fingers circled his wrist. Not to push him away, but to draw him closer. Her breathing sped up.

“Denn.” This time his name sounded like a plea.

He stilled. And whispered against her ear, “Ask me.”

“I . . . it’s mortifying.”

“No. It isn’t. Asking for what you need is never anything but completely right.” He tickled her lobe with the tip of his tongue. “It’s your body and you’re in control. Ask me.”

“Please.” Her fingers dug into his wrist. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Yes, you do. You know exactly what you want. Make me give it to you.” His arms slackened around her body, demanding nothing. She hissed in displeasure, and he swallowed the shout of joy wanting to escape. “Come on, Kendall. You’ve got a slave under you. Use me.”

Her shoulders shook on a silent laugh. “You, a slave?”

“Yep. All yours, too. I dare you to use me.” Once again his arms came around her, one hand cupping a breast and the other hovering low. He counted off seconds as he waited.

Her hips rose the merest inch and brushed his palm. All the invitation he needed.

Deftly, he undid the button-fly of her jeans and spread the material open. His fingers followed the line of lace and silk she wore, sexy panties beneath practical denim. He found it unbearably alluring. He eased under the elastic, traced the softer-than-silk skin, then hesitated—

She whimpered aloud in the quiet room. Her legs shifted, opened. Her arm rose over her head and she caught him around the neck and held tight.

“Say it.” His breath fell, choppy and thick, against her neck. “Tell me where to put my fingers.”

“Oh, God.”

“Tell me, Kendall.”

“On. In.” She pressed his left hand firmly to her breast. Pushed his right hand down, until it cupped her sensitive flesh hard. “In . . . in.” She chanted it as his fingers found more than elastic and skin.

He touched wet, hot flesh. Slid over and into the soft folds. Lightly, then deep, then deeper still. Gentle, then firm, then piercing. One finger moved inside, as his thumb circled, over and over.

She grasped his wrist in both hands and directed him, a maestro conducting an aria only she could hear. Her head fell back on his shoulder, her breast filled his palm, and his fingers plied her, now soft, now rough, now demanding, now begging.

Her hips moved, faster. Faster.

When she tightened, shuddered, then cried out, Denn knew the most dizzying sense of
rightness
as he gave his woman the pleasure she’d never had before.

A hand gently shook Kendall’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, I have to go.”

She came awake with a start and peered up at Denn through the tangled curls that hung in her face. He regarded her somberly, but his eyes gleamed in the shadowy room.

Kendall cleared her throat. “What time is it?”

“After ten. We both fell asleep.” He sat beside her, threaded his fingers through her hair and brushed it back, skimming a knuckle over her cheek. “You’ve got wrinkles.”

“What?” Still groggy from sleep, she struggled to sit upright and pressed her hand to her face. “What wrinkles? I’m only twenty-three, I shouldn’t have wrinkles.” She pushed against him. “Let me up, I need a mirror, I need to see–”

“From the cushion, Kendall.” He pointed to the pleated pillow she’d had her face buried in. He chuckled softly when she frowned at him. “You always this gullible when you wake up?”

“You’re just mean.” She punched his shoulder weakly and he caught her hand and pulled her close. With a sigh, she settled into the curve of his body. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.”

“No biggie. Besides, I conked out on you, too.” He nuzzled her ear, warm breath tinged with a trace of the coffee they’d shared after dinner. “I liked sleeping with you.”

Her face flamed and she hid it against him. “I’ve never slept with anyone before.”

A soft groan rumbled in his throat. “Don’t tell me that. I’m already having a hard enough time leaving you.” He cupped the back of her head and brought her closer. “I’m your first?”

“Sort of.” She eased away, but met his eyes. “You’re the first man I’ve ever slept with, but you’re not the first I’ve ever . . .” She gestured, finding the words too embarrassing to say. “You know.”

“Made love with? But we haven’t. Not completely.” He kissed her, then murmured against her lips, “Not yet.” His kiss deepened passionately when she clung to him.

As their lips parted, she dropped her forehead to his chest and struggled to regain her breath. No one had ever affected her this way. He’d given her more pleasure than she’d ever had. And with the realization of what he’d come to mean to her, came the surety that if she’d known Denn Nulo would someday enter her life, she’d have waited for him. She whispered it aloud.

Her eyes closed over sudden tears as his arms tightened in response. “When the time’s right, you’ll give me innocence, Kendall. Never doubt it.”

“But it’s not—I don’t—” She gazed at him, her vision blurry. “I don’t have much innocence left. After I, um, ran from Portland, I spent a year in Pendleton. I was so determined to obliterate Roy from my life. I worked at a coffee shop, went out on dates. Gave myself to a nice guy who didn’t have a clue his new girlfriend was a screwed-up mess.” She rubbed away tears and released a troubled sigh. “His name was Greg, and he loved me. He wanted more than I could give. I tried, I really did.”

She moved away and stared at Denn, sympathy and understanding softening his features. She gestured helplessly. “I wouldn’t let him stay the night. We’d go out, come back to my apartment, have sex.” She blushed. “Afterward, he’d leave. I never offered it, and he pretty much had to beg for it. He started out patient with me, but I knew it was only a matter of time before things got too difficult. In the end I broke it off because sex with him made me uncomfortable and unhappy. I walked away before our relationship dragged him down and he ended up miserable.”

Denn was quiet a moment. He took her hand and held it, absently stroking her palm with his thumb. “Kendall, I’m not going to point fingers, here. I’m certainly no virgin. And I’ve got plenty of baggage.” He pulled her into his lap and cuddled her. “I had a girl at UAA. Sharon. It was getting serious. She was a Physics major and planned on doing graduate work in Fairbanks. We talked briefly of marriage but neither of us came close to being ready.”

He paused, and sighed. “Sharon broke it off three months before my mother died and I had to fly home for Luna. She’d met someone else. Another Physics major. A woman.” He quirked a half-grin when her mouth dropped open in shock.

“Oh, my. I’m not even sure what to say.”

“Yeah, kind of how it hit me, too. After she left, I went through the wringer, thinking my ‘technique,’ for want of a better word, sucked crude oil. Here I am, slapping myself on the back for being a stud-muffin, and my girl’s getting her satisfaction from a woman.”

He shrugged. “When our relationship ended, at first I thought I could get her back. But I was the wrong gender. This woman gave Sharon something I couldn’t.”

“So, you let her go.”

“I did. Three months later, I was back in Staamat, arranging a funeral and learning how to deal with my baby sister.”

She curled her arms around his neck and gave him a loving hug. “I’d never throw you over.” She held his gaze and hated to see the trace of sadness in the depths of his warm, amber eyes. “I’ll bet Sharon regrets the day she ever tossed you away.”

“Actually, I heard from her after I got back here. She’d married her girlfriend and they were searching for a sperm donor. She thought I might like to volunteer. I pictured a candlelit room, Barry White music, and a turkey baster. I laughed in her ear and hung up on her. Close your mouth, Kendall,” he admonished. He put a finger under her chin and pushed her jaw playfully.

She batted at his fingers, then held them in a loose grip. “Did she ever call you back and ask again?”

“Yeah.”

She couldn’t help but ask, “You didn’t change your mind, and decide—of course you didn’t.” She paused. “Did you?”

“What do you think?” He looked indignant.

“I think you told her where she could stick her turkey baster.”

With a shout of laughter, he caught her close and hugged her. She rubbed his back soothingly.

After a few minutes, Denn stirred. “I have to relieve Stevie. He likes to make sure he’s home to help his mother with her bedtime meds.” He gave Kendall a lingering kiss, which she returned with eagerness.

Three kisses later, he groaned. “This time I have
got
to go.”

“Okay.” She scooted off his lap and waited as he stuck his feet into his boots and laced them. A thick skein of hair slipped over one eye as he straightened, and he grinned at her through the silky curtain. The pure sex emanating from him almost buckled her knees. Those wide shoulders and long, long legs, encased in snug, worn jeans. All that blacker-than-night hair, falling around a face God had seen fit to enhance with twinkling eyes and an effortlessly charming smile. As if that weren’t enough, He’d balanced Denn’s considerable physical gifts with a big generous heart, and so much loyalty she couldn’t begin to measure it.

And he’s falling in love with me.

“What?” He sent her a quizzical look as he stepped closer, ready to kiss her goodbye.

Unable to help herself, Kendall all but jumped into his arms, knowing he’d catch her, hold her tighter than tight, until she could barely breathe. His body cradled hers and he lifted her off her feet, leaving them dangling in mid-air. One kiss, three more, fast and hard and open, kept her mouth engaged while he walked through the store with her hanging off his neck.

He bumped into a hoodie rack. “Oops.”

She smothered a laugh, which turned into a moan when he found her mouth again.

He banged his hip on the edge of a table full of folded souvenir tee shirts. “Oww.”

She giggled, hitched herself higher, giving into the need thrumming through her, and curled her legs around his waist.

“Ah, Christ. You’re killing me.” He fumbled for the nearest wall, propped her against it, and took her mouth hungrily. She fisted her hands in his hair, nipping his full bottom lip. The kiss went deeper, and she could have sobbed from the glory of it.

They broke apart, both panting. Kendall slowly unwound her legs and he loosened his hold, letting her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor. She felt every hard muscle along the way.

“Hell.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to leave you here.”

“I’ll be all right,” Kendall lied. She wanted him to stay, wanted him in her bed, all night, and then she wanted to awaken in the morning, safe in his arms. They’d known each other less than two months, and she wanted forever.

I must be crazed with lust. That’s the only explanation.

“You know, you don’t have to stay here alone.” He caressed her cheek as he gazed at her, still pressed intimately against her. “You could come home with me.”

“Eventually I have to live here, Denn. By myself. I have to get used to it,” she pointed out.

“But not tonight, okay? Come home with me, Kendall. Stay with me, tonight.”

“We’ll end up in bed together.” It was a question and a statement.

He slowly nodded. “Yeah.”

She whispered into his shirt, “We’ll end up making love.”

“I can just about guarantee it.”

Fascinated by the strong, steady pulse at the side of his neck, she shuddered to think of what lay ahead, if she said ‘yes.’ Most of the shudders were from excitement.

He waited patiently in her dimly lit store while she battled inner demons he might never understand or be able to accept.

“Kendall . . .” His voice held a rough plea.

She took a deep breath and raised her eyes to his. “I should pack a few things.” She hesitated, and took the final plunge. “I’ll need my contact lens case, too.”

His smile, wide and happy, blinded her. “I can wait.”

Conroy huddled in the corner of his expansive living room at the condo. The candles had burned down to puddles of wax. The scent of scorched meat and vegetables still hung in the air. Spilled champagne stained the thick Burmese area rug under his teak dining room table. From where he crouched, he could see the bottle, lying on its side, near the edge.

Drops of the expensive liquid glittered on a slender bare foot, which protruded from under the table. He’d dragged her there, left her body twisted at an awkward angle and backed away, crab-like, to huddle against a far wall and assume a fetal position. Eventually he’d sat up and took stock of his situation.

It’s not my fault. I did nothing wrong.

Conroy’s fingers trembled as he ran them over his perspiring face. He hated the weakness, the lack of control. His head pounded furiously, another damned migraine, and he didn’t have the strength to gain his feet and hunt for his pills. He’d have to wait it out.

There were blond strands caught in the ornate signet ring he wore on his pinky finger. The sight of them made his eyes cross in renewed pain.

Dirty, fucking whore.

She’d infected his sanctuary with her foul presence. He was within his rights to defend his home from such a creature. Impersonating his beautiful Victoria . . . he still couldn’t believe it. Nothing had been right.
A wig, for Christ’s sake. Contact lenses.
He’d bought her a goddamned dress and prepared a gourmet meal for her.

Her lips had touched one of his exquisite crystal champagne flutes. Repulsed, he’d thrown it against the wall after he’d choked her, and took satisfaction at the way the delicate hand-blown glass shattered to pieces.

Deep breaths, in and out
. As he slowly calmed, the headache abated, leaving him shaky and nauseous but able to function. He leaned forward, enough to see more of the body. He shuddered at the sight of her short, ragged black hair.

He despised black hair
.

With a steadier hand, Conroy pulled out his cell phone and punched in numbers, then let it ring, and ring. Sighing in relief when Victoria’s sweet voice filled his ear, he listened to the message over and over, until he calmed. Disconnecting, he punched in another number.

When the doorbell rang twenty minutes later, Conroy roused himself and placed a hand against the wall to steady his legs. He moved stiffly to the door, opened it, then waved his mother in. He summoned as much of a smile as he could manage when she turned to him, her handbag tucked under one arm. As usual, she was perfectly coiffed, perfectly turned out even at midnight. She frowned at him, something she seldom did. Most of the time, his mother was a veritable one-woman cheering section for him and everything he did.

He met her frown with composure. “Mother. Thank you for coming.”

“Where is she, Conroy?” She laid her purse on the foyer table, smoothed one pale, bejeweled hand over her exquisitely styled, upswept black hair.

Pale, almost colorless eyes assessed him as she crossed her arms and tapped one narrow foot, shod in a gray alligator pump. “What did you do this time?”

Kendall folded the washcloth she’d borrowed from Denn and hung it on the towel rack in his bathroom. Her hands still held a bit of the tremors that had overtaken her as soon as she’d entered his house. Somehow stepping over the threshold this late at night confirmed what she knew would happen as soon as she joined Denn in the bedroom just beyond the door.

I want this. I want him. I’m ready.

In spite of what had happened between them at her apartment earlier in the evening, she still felt shy around him. Here was her chance to be on equal terms with a man and have a normal, loving relationship with someone whose love for her would continue to grow and grow. She only had to reach out, open the door, step through it and right into Denn Nulo’s arms. He’d never hurt her. He’d always protect her.

For the first time in so very long, she felt safe
.

She picked up her hairbrush and ran it through her curls until they fell down her back in a wavy cloud. Her nightgown might have been demure, with its smocked neckline and knee-length, ruffled hem, but the soft yellow flattered her.

Not that I’ll be wearing it very long.
The thought had her clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle a nervous giggle.

Seconds stretched into a minute, then two, as she stood at the sink and stared at her reflection. More than once in the past, she’d wondered why on earth Roy had obsessed about her. She wasn’t some beauty queen, with a generously endowed body. Sex appeal didn’t ooze from her pores. The most she could say about her looks had more to do with wholesomeness than anything else. Yet Roy
had
been obsessed, dangerously so.