White Satin

by Iris Johansen

  But how was she going to make certain that Anthony would accept her offer? He’d almost driven them both crazy the other night with his maddening scruples about waiting until after Calgary, and last night he’d been just as self-disciplined. Well, she had no use for self-discipline at the moment, and she’d just have to make sure Anthony didn’t either. The first item on the agenda was to change that music. Anthony was magnificent as a solo performer, but right now she was more interested in a duet.

  Anthony stopped in midmovement when she removed the “Bolero” tape and inserted her own Olympic program cassette. The hauntingly beautiful strains of “Somewhere in Time” began to weave their poignant spell. His eyes searched the shadows by the bench. “Dany?”

  “Yes,” she answered, trying to steady the quiver of excitement in her voice. She skated toward him out of the dark. “You’re a very private person, Anthony. It’s not often I get a chance to watch you work out. I’ve been here for some time.”

  “I thought you might be,” he said to her surprise. She stopped a few feet from him, where she could see the silver-green of his eyes in the shadowy darkness of his face. “And I’m not always that reserved. There are times when every male of the species wants to spread his plumage and strut a bit.” He paused. “The time of courtship.”

  She felt the breath leave her body. “And were you strutting for me?”

  “I was doing my damnedest. Did I please you, Dany?”

  “Oh, yes, you pleased me.” She laughed shakily. “You pleased me very much.” Her hands flipped the pleats of her skating skirt. “I think perhaps I wanted to strut a little myself tonight. Do I please you?”

  His gaze ran over her with lingering thoroughness. Lord, she was so beautiful. The short white pleated skirt was fashioned of the softest, finest silk and shimmered in the moonlight. The white cashmere turtleneck sweater clung to the high curves of her breasts with a loving verity that revealed there was only Dany beneath its softness. Instead of her usual topknot, her auburn hair was loose and tumbling about her shoulders in a fiery cloak. He drew a deep breath. “I think you know you do. When you strut, you really strut, lady.”

  “There’s no use making a halfway effort,” she said lightly. “Anything I do I like to do intensely.”

  “Sometimes it’s best to opt for moderation,” he said warily. “I said the time of courtship, not mating, Dany.”

  “Did you?” she asked softly, her lashes suddenly veiling her eyes. “But surely there’s nothing wrong in indulging me with another courtship ritual.” She offered a quaint little curtsy. “Will you dance with me, Anthony?”

  He chuckled. “We haven’t skated pairs together in over six years. There’s an excellent chance we’ll end up in a heap on our respective rumps.”

  “Trust me.” She held out her two hands invitingly. “And I’ll trust you.”

  He became still. There had been an odd gravity in her voice that hinted at a depth of meaning other than the obvious. “Will you?” His hands reached out slowly to envelop her own. “Then how could I do less?” Stiffening his arms, he whirled her in a tight circle so that her hair flew out behind her in a bright satin banner. “It’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

  It took years and constant practice for a pairs team to acquire that magical merging of style and technique that was so sought after. Anthony should have been right about disaster following their own attempt after all these years. But somehow it didn’t. It was smooth and beautiful and strangely, breathtakingly intimate. There were no spectacular overhead lifts, no death spirals. There was just Anthony holding her, lifting her in his arms, shifting her, whirling with her in a unity that filled her with a clear, radiant rapture. Silver moonlight on glittering silver blades, white pleats flowing silkily over black denim-covered thighs, haunting melody weaving shadow and brightness into one. Enchantment.

  Dany wasn’t sure at what point heart-lifting ecstasy became desire. It might have been during the pair sit-spin, when her thigh threaded between his, touched and burned. Or when he picked her up in his arms and cradled her with such tenderness that her throat ached with unshed tears. She was conscious only that desire was suddenly present, and she could feel in the abrupt tension of his arms that it was there for Anthony too.

  She could see the jerky cadence of his pulse in his temple, and she knew that her own was just as uneven. The heat of his lean, supple body brushed against her with every movement, sensitizing her to a point where every touch was almost painful. His hand tightened spasmodically on her thigh, and he abruptly halted, pressing her close, his legs spreading to hold her within the cradle of his hips.

  His chest was moving rapidly with the labor of his breathing as he held her quite still. “I think this particular courtship ritual had better stop,” he said huskily.

  “So do I.” She turned her head so her lips were pressed against the pulse at the side of his warm throat. “I think we should move on to the mating.” Not waiting for him to reply and ignoring the sudden stiffening of his body, she quickly covered his lips with hers in a lingering sweetness that escalated into explosive passion as she parted his lips with a tongue that ventured and then possessed.

  He froze into immobility, and then she heard a low groan deep in his throat. Her tongue was met with his own in a kiss that probed and touched with a hot urgency. It was a long, breathless time before he jerked his head back, drawing in great gasps of air. “Calgary!”

  She pressed closer, fitting her curves against his hard planes. “I’ll have Calgary,” she said fiercely. “And I’ll have you too. I’ll have it all.”

  “I told you—”

  “You told me a lot of things.” Her lips were moving over the warm skin of his throat. “I’ve stopped listening. They don’t apply anymore.”

  “They don’t?” He barely knew what he was saying. He could feel the curving softness of her unconfined breasts against him, and it was an agonizing temptation to slip his hand beneath the cashmere sweater and touch her, make her come alive for him.

  “Nope.” She nipped provocatively at the flesh just beneath his chin. “That was when you were controlling our relationship. Now it’s strictly a joint project.”

  “Dany, I won’t—”

  “Yes, you will.” She suddenly broke away from him with an impish laugh, backing a yard or so away. Her dark eyes were dancing. “I’m a very determined woman.” Her hands were on her hips, toying with the edge of her sweater. “You’ve always given me whatever I wanted before. I don’t see any reason why you should stop now.” With one lightning movement she pulled the sweater over her head. Her breasts suddenly glimmered pale and full in the moonlight, their pink centers darkened and taut. “I remember how your hands felt on me, Anthony,” she said softly. “Do you remember that? I want them on me again.”

  He remembered all right, and that memory was causing a painful tightness in his groin. “You’ll get cold,” he said gruffly.

  “I don’t think so.” She smiled at him with loving sweetness. “I don’t think you’re about to let me get cold.” She shook her long auburn hair so that it fell in a shimmering cascade over her shoulders and down her back. The sweater was still in her hand. “Here.” She tossed him the garment. Then she was suddenly skating away from him toward the bench in the shadows at the end of the rink. “You can put it back on me when you catch me.” She laughed again. “If you still want to!”

  He stood there for a moment in the center of the rink, his hand clenching the softness of the cashmere. Now what the hell was he to do? This was a Dany he’d never known before, and he didn’t know quite how to cope. It didn’t help that he had to fight himself as well as her. Well, he couldn’t let her wander around in the coolness of the rink half-dressed. He struck out with determined strokes toward the bench.

  When he reached it, she was no longer there. Her white skates lay carelessly on the bench together with her boots and skate bag. How the hell had she gotten out of them so quickly? Now she was running around in onl
y stocking feet, and the wooden floor was almost as cold as the ice. He sat down on the bench, quickly took off his own skates, and left them with hers, pushing his feet into loafers.

  “Dany,” he called in exasperation, his voice reverberating around the high ceiling of the building as he strode through the tiers of spectator seats. “Dany, dammit, answer me!”

  There was a shimmering scrap of pleated material draped over a seat arm, and his hand reached out slowly to pick it up. Her skirt. He felt a swift jab of desire so intense, it was almost pure pain. “Dany!”

  The sheer skater’s tights were tossed carelessly on the railing leading to the lounge. He ignored them and moved toward the door with the numb heaviness of a sleepwalker.

  He knew what he would see when he opened that door but still felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. She’d taken the wide cushions from the blue flowered couch and deposited them on the floor. She was sitting back on her heels at one end of the makeshift bed, her hands folded meekly in her lap, and her dark eyes glowing with tenderness in the lamplight. She was totally nude.

  Dany felt the heat of his intense gaze as it ran over her body, and it brought a flush of arousal that swelled her breasts and caused her breath to catch in her throat. “I’ve heard that the chase always makes things more intriguing for a man,” she said faintly. She mustn’t feel shy, she told herself fiercely. How could she manage to seduce Anthony if she developed a case of nerves? “I thought I’d give it a shot.” She lifted her chin. “Are you intrigued, Anthony?”

  “No, I’m not intrigued.” He closed the door and leaned against it, his expression so intently sensual, it evoked a tingle in her every vein. “I’m angry and aroused.” He paused. “And defeated.” He dropped her sweater and skirt, and his fingers began to unfasten the belt at his waist. “You can put your own damn clothes on.” He straightened and pulled his sweater over his head and tossed it aside. “Afterward.”

  Her eyes were suddenly enormous in her face as she watched him strip with his usual graceful economy of movement. “You’re not really angry, are you?”

  “What did you expect?” he asked as he moved across the room toward her. “I don’t like to be forced into doing something against my better judgment.”

  “Am I forcing you?” she said falteringly as he knelt facing her. “I hoped I was seducing you.”

  “That too.” A strand of fiery hair was curling over one naked breast as if it loved it. He wanted to push it aside and put his tongue there instead. He was half afraid to touch her. He was holding on to his control with both hands. Desire was gnawing at him, and he was afraid he would turn into a wild animal. He didn’t want to rape her, dammit. “I’m not sure I can be gentle with you,” he said haltingly. “I’ve never wanted anyone this much before.”

  She relaxed. “Who said I wanted you to be gentle?” she asked lightly. “You’ve taught me to take care of myself, remember?”

  His face suddenly softened. “This situation is a little different.” His dark head bent and his lips brushed away the lock of hair from her nipple, stroking it lightly with his warm tongue. “This time we take care of each other.” He suddenly pushed her back on the cushions, looking down at her with eyes that were smoky with desire. “Part your legs, love, I want to touch you.”

  Her limbs felt heavy and languid as she did what he asked. His face was taut and drawn with need and his eyes a deeper green than she’d ever seen them. He moved over her, his leg slipping between her own and nudging her open a little wider. His arms were resting on each side of her as his head came slowly down until his lips were hovering over her own. “Kiss me,” he urged softly, rubbing his lower body against her with a slow undulation. “And I’ll kiss you. Do you like that, Dany?”

  “Oh, yes!” Her little gasp was lost against his lips as her arms went around his neck and pulled his head down so that she could give him her tongue as well as her mouth. He caught it between his lips, sucking and nipping erotically as his hips moved with a slowly rotating movement in that other embrace—one that was causing her to arch upward to tempt him to take more, to give more of himself.

  She threw her head back to free her mouth so she could speak. “Anthony, I’m burning.…” His lips moved to take her again, and she felt his hands move between their bodies, petting and soothing that inferno, but it only served to stoke the flames. His fingers were playing, exploring, and she felt a deep clenching inside her. Then they invaded with a suddenness that made her cry out.

  He raised his head swiftly. “Did I hurt you?” What he saw in her face reassured him. Surprise, languor, and a heavy sensuality, but no pain. His eyes narrowed on her face as he began to stroke, rotate, plunge. It was almost too much for him to bear to see the expressions of desire and heated need chase across her face as his fingers moved within her. Her gasps and little half moans were just as arousing. It filled him with a savage satisfaction that he could bring her to this peak of pleasure, but he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer without taking his own fulfillment.

  “You’re ready for me,” he said, his chest moving heavily with his labored breathing. He moved over her, and his manhood nudged against the center of her being. “And heaven knows, I’m ready for you, Dany.” He tried to be slow and easy but she was so warm and tight, so very much his that suddenly he couldn’t stand it.

  He plunged forward with a force and fire that took her breath away. He was sheathed entirely within her, filling her, and there was an expression of such sensual contentment on the face above her that it made her own pleasure all the more intense. A lock of satin dark hair hung rakishly over his forehead and his eyes were shut as he flexed slowly and deeply.

  She gave a half gasp and his eyes opened to look down at her with a lazy sensuousness. “I feel as if I’ve come home.” There was a rare glint of mischief in his eyes. “You won’t mind if I just stay here awhile and rest, will you, sweetheart?” He suddenly shifted so her thighs were over his and his hands were on her hips, pulling himself even deeper. “Remember, I said I wanted to learn you.”

  “Now?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Anthony, I don’t think—” She broke off with a little gasp as she felt his hands on her, petting, moving, molding her around himself with a playfulness that was both loving and slightly savage. It was certainly, entirely mind-blowing, and she found herself panting and shivering with each teasing touch. She felt her hips suddenly rising and moving and she saw the teasing expression leave his face as he inhaled sharply.

  He shifted and suddenly he was over her again. “I’ll learn the rest later,” he growled as he cupped her buttocks in his palms and tilted her up to him. “There’s going to be all the time in the world for both of us.” He drew out and suddenly plunged forcefully forward, touching the center of her with explosive passion and beginning a rhythm that carried her into another universe.

  The rhythm was like nothing she ever could have imagined. It was gone in an instant, it went on forever. It filled her body, it filled her heart. Burning sunlight on ice crystals, warming and then melting them so that both were one blazing spiral of urgency. Then the crystals reformed into a separate sharpness that was as breathlessly exquisite in sensation as the merging that had gone on before. Radiant prisms of brilliance intensified in color and beauty until they shattered into a million splinters of rapture.

  The expression on Anthony’s face above her was strained and taut and his chest was laboring with the harshness of his breathing as he rolled over, bringing her with him in that same possessive unity. “You’re all right? I didn’t hurt you?” His eyes were dark with concern as he looked at her.

  “No.” Her heart was pounding so fast she could hardly speak. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

  Amusement followed the relief on his face. “Never better,” he assured her solemnly. “You were very gentle with me.” His lips brushed her forehead with a tenderness that caused a lump to form in her throat. “But I wasn’t the virgin here. You’re an athlete, so I didn’t th
ink there’d be any pain, but I couldn’t be sure. It worried the hell out of me.”

  “No pain.” She nestled contentedly closer. “Only pleasure. I loved every minute of it. It was utterly fantastic.” She nipped his shoulder playfully. “I could murder you for not making love to me at the apartment. We wasted three entire days.”

  He stiffened. “I thought it was wiser to wait.” He pushed her away and sat up. “I still do.” He rose from the bed of cushions with his customary litheness and stood looking down at her, all vulnerability and tenderness hidden behind his usual impassive mask. “I think we have a few things to discuss.”

  “Now?” she asked blankly as she watched him retrieve his black sweater from the floor, then return to kneel beside her.

  “Now,” he said firmly. He sat her upright and pulled the sweater over her head, pushing her arms into the sleeves as if she were a little girl being dressed for school. “That little seduction scene you just pulled off makes me feel a good bit uneasy.” He tugged the sweater down to her thighs and began rolling the overlong sleeves up to her elbow. He glanced up, his eyes more cool silver than green. “It makes me feel manipulated.”

  She nodded. “That’s because you’re not used to anyone else pulling the strings,” she said cheerfully as she pushed the hair away from her face. “You’re used to doing all the manipulating yourself.” She crossed her legs tailor-fashion and grinned up at him mischievously. “How do you like it, Machiavelli?”

  His lips tightened grimly. “I don’t. It shouldn’t have happened. Not yet.”

  “Bull,” she said succinctly. “We’re two consenting adults.” Her eyes danced merrily. “At least you were very consenting a few moments ago. There’s no reason we shouldn’t make love if we want to.” Her face softened. “And I wanted to.”

  “But why did you want to?” His eyes narrowed on her face. “Lust, curiosity, a whim?” His face darkened in a frown. “Or was it gratitude? Did you suddenly decide to pay me for Briarcliff after all? I told you—”