Wild Honey (13 page)

“Mmm,” Randi murmured dreamily, curling into his embrace.

He released an unsteady breath as his arms closed around her. She was slender and willowy, yet there was no mistaking her female curves, the full breasts that pressed against his chest, with only thin layers of cloth between. The narrow waist that flared into womanly hips just where his hand held her to him, itching to move lower. To cup and caress.

Yet the way she snuggled against him, all sleepy and warm, sent a warning message to his brain. A message that had him gritting his teeth against the arousal straining his jeans. She was clearly not awake yet. If she had been, she’d never have welcomed what her body had to be sensing about
his
body.

Only a bastard would take advantage of a woman who wasn’t fully cognizant of such things, and a bastard he wasn’t. He’d been raised to respect women. A gentleman simply didn’t take advantage, no matter how his body tried to make him forget the standards he’d been raised by.

“Listen, darlin’,” he said, taking a deep breath and gently disengaging and setting her away from him. “Why don’t you go pull on some sweats or somethin’, okay? Nothin’ fancy, now. We’re just goin’ to the beach.”

“Um…the beach?”

“Yup,” he said, flicking the tip of her nose with his finger. “I got a permit to build a fire and brought some wieners to roast. And I sure hope you like champagne.”

“Champagne?” She was fully awake now. “Did you say champagne?”

“Piper Heidsieck,” he said with a grin, “but that was because the Philistines around here didn’t have any Louis Roederer.”

“Piper Heidsieck,” she murmured, recalling that the last time she’d had anything so extravagant she and Jill had
been toasting Matt’s baptism. “You’ve brought Piper Heidsieck for a wiener roast?”

“And marshmallows for toastin’.” He indicated the packages resting at his feet. “Now, scoot.” He turned her by the shoulders toward her bedroom, resisting an urge to .deliver a playful pat to her shapely bottom.

“The ice in that bucket I left outside,” he added, dragging his gaze away and clearing his throat, “won’t last forever, and champagne’s no good unless it’s chilled.”

“C
ARE FOR ANOTHER
, sugar?” Travis pulled a long twig from the fire and blew out the flame on a plump marshmallow that was charred to perfection.

“I really shouldn’t,” Randi said, taking a sip from one of the champagne flutes he’d brought.
Crystal flutes for a wiener roast on the beach! Honestly, is there anything the man doesn’t think of?
“There’s something terribly decadent about eating toasted marshmallows with champagne.”

He chuckled. “That’s the general idea, darlin’. You are, after all, on vacation.” Pleasantly full after a few roasted wieners, they were sitting cross-legged on the blanket, facing each other before the fire. He didn’t have far to reach as he held out his burnt offering and grinned at her. “Go on, live a little.”

“Well,” she murmured, reaching for the marshmallow and wishing for the thousandth time she was more immune to that grin, “maybe just one more before—Ouch!”

“Damn!” He dropped the twig and caught her hand. “Did you burn yourself?”

“N-not really,” she stammered as he lifted her hand to his mouth. She felt a ripple of pleasure as he blew on the fingers that bore telltale smudges of charcoal. And when he licked them with his lips and tongue, a delicate shudder ran through her.

“You sure, kitten?” he murmured, cradling her hand in
his and pressing a kiss to the sensitized pads of her fingers and then to the center of her palm.

“N-no. I mean, yes.” She released a quavering breath as he met her eyes and those perfectly chiseled lips curved into a slow grin.

“‘S’ matter, honey woman?” His thumb made lazy circles on the sensitive skin of her palm. “Can’t decide?”

“H-honey…?” She couldn’t finish. God, what was happening to her? A single glass of champagne shouldn’t be affecting her this way. She was light-headed, and a heaviness had invaded her lower torso—and her breasts, which felt achy and swollen.

“Mm,” he murmured, still holding her hand. His thumb moved over her knuckles, massaging them with a slowness that was altogether deliberate, and as sensual as his voice.

“Remember those moments in the ER when I first saw you?” he asked softly, his gaze caressing her face.

She shook her head in numb bemusement, and he smiled. “I do. I couldn’t help thinkin’ ‘bout how you looked—all tawny ‘n’ golden, y’know? Just like honey, darlin’. Wild honey. All deep ‘n’ golden, gently warmed by the sun ‘n’ sweeter’n heaven itself.”

Closing her eyes, she slowly drew in a breath, then released it in a sigh. They had the moonlit beach to themselves. An occasional pop and crackle of the fire punctuated the sound of the surf. It was otherwise quiet and still. Except inside her, where her heart beat like a trip-hammer.

Travis saw the pulse against the fragile skin at the side of her neck. He recalled how that skin had felt back at the cottage. He had an overpowering urge to taste it.

Not yet,
a voice in his head cautioned.
You’ve got to take it slow and easy with this woman.

He smiled to himself, anticipating how he’d do just that. “You never got your sugar treat, darlin’,” he said. Reaching for the discarded twig and removing the aborted marshmallow, he replaced it with a fresh one.

“Wh-what?” Randi couldn’t think clearly as she focused on the deep indentations bracketing his mouth. Only vaguely was she aware he was toasting something in the fire.

“But this time, honey,” he murmured, his gaze on her mouth as he removed the perfectly charred morsel from the twig, “we’re not riskin’ your lovely hands.”

Blowing on the melted marshmallow suspended between his fingers, he leaned forward and raised it to her mouth. “Open for me, kitten,” he commanded gently, meeting her eyes. “C’mon, now.”

God, his eyes…his voice.
Had there ever been anything in her experience as compelling? Obedient as a child, Randi did as he said. The sweet warm taste filled her mouth, a perfect counterpoint to the chilled tartness lingering on her tongue from the champagne.

“Good?” he asked, his gaze dropping to her lips, where the pink tip of her tongue licked a hint of sticky residue.
Sweet Lord in heaven, does she have any idea what she’s doing to me?

He decided to find out.

Leaning forward, he lowered his head, angled his mouth against hers and captured her lips, just as the tip of her tongue darted into view again. Tongue met tongue.

He sucked in his breath as he felt her tremble. Yet he wasn’t sure if her reaction was from passion or from fear. Exhaling slowly, he backed away on the blanket, stretching out long legs encased in skin-hugging jeans. He noted she watched him warily.
Fear, then. Damn.

He didn’t know why a mature woman who’d borne a child and had a successful career in nursing should be so skittish in male-female situations. She was like a newborn foal, and he had to do whatever was necessary to gentle her. Time for figuring out why later.

“C’mere, darlin’,” he whispered, holding out his hand.

She glanced at the hand, then back at his face, uncertainty in her eyes.

Seeing her hesitate, he softened the request with a smile. “You’ve been sittin’ in that position for over an hour. You can’t be any more comfortable than I was.”

Before she could argue, he leaned over and lifted her toward him as if she weighed nothing. Randi found herself sitting with her back braced against his chest, her legs outstretched. She swallowed thickly; her hips were sandwiched between long muscular thighs.

“Relax,” he murmured somewhere over her left ear. She felt her heart hammering frantically against her chest. He was too close, too large. Above all,
too male.

And yet she couldn’t move. His nearness was doing impossible things to her senses, even while her mind urged her to pull away.

Travis’s hands came up to rest gently on her shoulders. “Easy does it now, honey,” he whispered, his voice a low, soothing caress.

Slowly he began to massage the taut muscles supporting her neck. Feeling her tension ease, he murmured approvingly against her hair, “That’s it, darlin’, relax. Nothin’s gonna happen that you don’t want, hear? Easy, now…”

It was as much the reassurance in his voice as his words that soon had her leaning bonelessly against the solidity of his chest. Looking dreamily out at a night sky filled with stars, she wondered why she hadn’t noticed them before. Or the velvet feel of warm ocean air on her skin. Or the moonlight glinting on the water, fragmenting into a thousand splinters of light as the waves advanced and retreated.

It was as if, with the easing of tension, all her senses had begun to sharpen and expand. Her perception of things around her had never been this keen. She felt suddenly more alive, more aware in every pore.

And not the least of what she perceived was the heady masculine presence in close proximity to hers. Travis’s
hands had progressed to her arms. He was running his palms gently down their length, then up again, where the process started anew.

His hands were large, yet incredibly gentle, for all their size. With her heightened awareness; she could feel the texture of them in contrast with her skin. A man’s hands, callused at the heels, as if he used them for a particular labor. Karate? she wondered, but the thought faded away. She shut her eyes and sighed, surrendering to the sweet lassitude invading her body.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. “Nothin’ to worry ‘bout. Nothin’ at all.”

He eased his hands to her waist and gently encircled her with his arms. “Warm enough?” he asked in the lazy drawl she’d forever associate with warm summer nights and a sky full of stars.

“Mm-hmm,” she managed.

“Good,” he breathed against her ear, and then proceeded to nuzzle it. “Unlike champagne, darlin’,” he added, his voice a bare whisper against her hair, “honey’s no good when it’s chilled.”

She shivered as his velvet tongue circled her ear, then dipped into its center. And when his teeth sank ever so gently into the lobe, her breath broke.

“You’re beautiful, Miranda Terhune,” he murmured, “and I can’t seem to get my fill of lookin’ at you…or touchin’ you…” Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his hands moved to her breasts, cupped them gently.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered as a ragged breath tore from her throat.

Restlessly her head moved from side to side. What was happening to her? She’d meant to say stop, hadn’t she? But the feel of those hands cupping her breasts, as if testing their weight, Lord, she wanted it to go on forever!

She heard him murmur something low and inaudible in
that sultry drawl. She felt his thumbs graze her nipples. Nipples that were pouting against the soft cotton of the sweatshirt she’d donned—without a bra, because of the sunburn.

Dear God!
A jolt of undiluted pleasure shot from the peaks he teased to the crevice between her thighs. She gasped.

He heard her gasp and immediately stilled his hands. But a low ragged moan from deep in her throat let him know it hadn’t been fear, and he released the breath he’d been holding. “Want me to stop?” His warm breath caressed her ear.

When she only stirred restlessly against him, he smiled knowingly and let his thumbs resume their work.
She’s no ice queen now,
he thought as his teasing brought her nipples to taut prominent buds.
So responsive! Good thing she doesn’t want me to stop. Any second now, and I won’t be able to.

He used his fingers now to gently twist those outthrust peaks, worrying them into aching points of unbearable pleasure. She began to twist and moan beneath his hands, and he wondered if she felt the pressure of his arousal at the base of her spine. He wanted her. Wanted her in a way he’d never wanted a woman.

Yet she was clearly a novice at all this. He felt it in her, heard it in the surprised little whimpers she gave whenever he changed his caresses and taught her a new way to receive pleasure at his hands. The mystery behind this intrigued him, but he didn’t stop to puzzle it out now. He was so hard it was painful, and the urge crowding out his thoughts was to seek the only remedy he knew.

Slowly, carefully, murmuring reassurances in her ear as he nuzzled it, he slipped one of his hands lower. Smoothing it over the waistband of her sweats, he massaged her flat belly with slow indolent strokes. His other hand continued
teasing her nipples, and she hardly seemed aware of anything new.

Moving very slowly, Travis slid his hand back toward her waistband. Using just the tips of his fingers, he lifted the elastic and sought the warm flesh beneath.

“Randi?” he whispered. “You okay?”

She felt the sensual haze swirl and eddy around her. She was on a moonlit beach, and Travis was doing impossible things to her body. Intimate things…

She grew suddenly very still, and Travis stopped his questing hand, resting it on her bare navel. But it was getting hard to stop and start this way. She wasn’t wearing a scrap of underwear beneath the sweats, and the realization brought sweat to his brow.

“Randi?” he tried again. “Talk to me.”

All at once, the sensual haze was gone. The moonlit beach was gone. She was huddled in her bedroom and she was sobbing. She held her old teddy bear, clinging to it desperately as her tears dampened the worn fur. But Teddy couldn’t save her. No one could. And the footsteps were coming nearer…nearer.
“No-o-o!”

Travis froze as she screamed and tore herself from his arms. “Randi, what the—”

“Don’t!”, she shrieked, tears flooding her eyes as she scrambled wildly, stumbling.
Never again. Never!
Somehow she picked herself up and staggered to her feet, the male figure before her, a hazy blur through her tears.
“Don’t touch me.”

Travis watched in confused shock as she backed away from him. That was terror he saw in her eyes! “Randi, what’s the matter?” he asked, reaching out to soothe her.

“I said, don’t touch me!” Pivoting, she lunged away, sobbing uncontrollably. Then she ran from him, and it was as if she ran for her life.