Beth whimpered and arched against him; he forced her to go slowly, to savor. He ran his hands over the curve of her hip, the dip of her abdomen—caressing, exciting. Then he explored lower, his palms easing over her thighs, massaging, loosening muscles until she was liquid beneath his hands. He roamed further. She gasped and tried to close her thighs, but he coaxed her with soft, hot words, with movements softer, hotter still. She opened to him.
He found her hot and wet and ready. Even though he burned, he didn’t rush. He wanted her to know complete pleasure before he took his. He moved his fingers until her breath came in small gasps, until she arched and shuddered against him.
As she cried out in release, he rolled her onto her back. Slowly, carefully, he eased into her, catching her wince, stroking her inside and out. For long moments he held her, letting her become accustomed to him. His own breath came quickly, his muscles aching from the effort needed to maintain control.
Chance tangled his fingers in her hair. “Are you okay?” he whispered against her trembling mouth.
She blushed. “Yes.”
“Good. Now, hold on.” He laced their fingers and thrust; she made a sound of pleasure and pain. He paused, then thrust again; this time she made a sound of pleasure only. With the next thrust she wrapped her legs around him, too impatient for slowly, too hungry to wait.
Chance’s control snapped and he made a sound low in his throat, male and feral. The sound hummed over her, making her feel completely woman, totally wanted.
Beth moved her hands over his shoulders, down his sweat-slickened back to cup him. Holding back for her had cost him. Dearly. She felt in the way his muscles quivered with tension beneath her fingers, heard it in his labored breathing, sensed it in the almost desperate way he moved inside her now.
Even as tenderness rippled over her, it was replaced by breathlessness. Then oblivion. Chance found her mouth, catching her sounds of pleasure. As she caught his.
Afterward they rocked together slowly, gently, finishing the way they had begun. Seconds became moments, then minutes. Hearts slowed, breathing evened, flesh cooled.
Still connected, Chase eased them to their sides. Silently they regarded each other. Even as worries and regrets raced into her head, Beth pushed them away. She wouldn’t waste this wonderful moment, wouldn’t throw it away on second thoughts.
But still, she wished she knew his thoughts, his innermost feelings. She searched his expression. Earlier she’d lied to herself. It mattered very much what his motivation was tonight. It mattered so much, it felt as if she were being ripped apart.
Beth shivered, and Chance draped her shimmery shawl over them. “What are you thinking?” she asked.
“How can you even ask?” He smiled and touched the tip of her nose.
Her heart lurched at the innocence—and intimacy—of the gesture. “Was I... was it all right for you?”
“Yes.” He eased her onto her back and gazed down at her. Her hair circled her head like a halo of flames. He rubbed some of the strands between his fingers. Soft and silky, they glowed against his fingertips.
The hair of a wayward angel, he thought, not for the first time. He tangled his fingers in the silky mass, feeling like a fraud for wanting her to the exclusion of all else. For forgetting everything he knew about her, for forgetting every lesson of his childhood.
What the hell was he going to do now?
He stiffened, and Beth caught her breath. She saw the regrets that raced into his eyes. He was moving away from her already. She pressed her hands to his chest. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t be sorry. Not again.”
How could he not be? And how could this feel so right anyway? He looked down at her and smiled solemnly. “Was it all right for you?”
“It was wonderful.”
“You’re not sore?”
She shook her head, then moved and winced. “Maybe a little.”
Frowning, he rubbed her hair between his fingers again. “How did it happen, Beth? How was it that you were still a—”
“Virgin,” she finished for him. She lowered her eyes for a moment, then lifted them back to his. “I could have... you know, a couple of times. But I couldn’t go through with it. It felt wrong to do it, just to... do it. I didn’t really care about either of the men. So—” She drew in a shaky breath. “So here I am, embarrassing but true, the last virgin in America.”
“Was.” He whispered, brushing his mouth against hers, irrationally pleased to be her first, feeling incredibly macho. “Things have changed in the last hour.”
She blushed again, and he skimmed his fingers over her hot cheeks. “I once wondered if you blushed everywhere as deliciously as you do in your cheeks.” He raked his gaze slowly and deliberately over her. “You do.”
The blushed deepened, and he laughed. “We should go back.”
Beth thought of her lonely hotel room and wanted to cry. Tonight was almost over. Her life, and everything about her, had been changed. And yet nothing had changed—for her lie was still between them.
“Yes,” she murmured in a subdued voice.
“Red, baby, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t want tonight to be over,” she whispered, knowing she revealed too much but already too exposed to care. “It’s too soon.”
He smiled tenderly. “Did you think I would just drop you at your door? Do you really think, after this, that I could?”
Her eyes told all, and he muttered an oath and dragged her against his chest. “I don’t want this night to end either.” He wished he spoke lies, but he did not. He wished he felt nothing, but instead he felt everything—deeply and to the core. “I’m as involved as you are.”
He cupped her face in his palms. “I want you to come back to the hotel with me. I want you to come to my room, spend the night with me, in my bed and in my arms.”
She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “Do you mean you want to... make love again?”
“Red... Red...” Chance laughed and hugged her to him. “If I had the capacity, I would make love to you a hundred more times tonight. I have the want... Lord, do I have the want.”
She laughed with him. “Let’s hurry, Chance. Because I have the want too.”
Chapter 9
They did hurry. They tugged on their clothes, and after Chance made sure the warehouse was secure, they raced to Chance’s rental car. They made it back to the hotel and up to their rooms in record time. At least, it seemed so to Beth.
“I need some things,” she said breathlessly, stopping at her door.
Chance nodded, then caught her to him, lowering his mouth to hers in a deep, shattering kiss. “Don’t take too long.”
Beth let herself into her room, dropped her purse on the bed, then ran through, collecting the items she needed—her gown and robe, hairbrush and toothbrush.
After dabbing perfume behind her ears and between her breasts, she went to retrieve her phone from the bed. It had tumbled out of her capsized purse; she had turned the ringer off and saw she had missed a call.
From Eva. She started to reach for the device, then shook her head. If there was an emergency, she would try the hotel. Anything else could wait.
Chance opened his door the moment she knocked. Without preamble, she moved into his arms.
“What took so long?” he asked, kissing her lips, her cheeks, her eyebrows. “I thought I would go mad waiting for you.”
She laughed and twined her arms around his neck, returning his ardent kisses. “I could grow to like driving you mad.”
Chance growled next to her ear and kicked the door shut behind them. “I think you already do, vixen.”
Cupping her derriere, he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his middle. He carried her to the bed, then, still joined, lowered them to the mattress.
“Now,” he murmured, his voice thick. “For lesson number two.”
They spent the night making love. Lying next to each other, neither was able to sleep for long, and the night took on th
e quality of an erotic dream.
The first time Chance awakened her, he caressed her with his hands and mouth, arousing, exciting. Tasting places that made her cry out with pleasure, touching her in ways that made her delirious with need.
He dominated and led her, and Beth clutched the sheets in an attempt to anchor herself to the real world. That she could experience such pleasure had been inconceivable to her. Until this night. Until Chance. As sensations skyrocketed through her, she cried out and drew him inside her.
The next time, it was Beth who awakened him; she who explored and ignited, she who led. She proved herself an excellent pupil, for this time it was Chance who clutched the bedding for support. Chance who cried out his release.
So the night went, until exhausted and sated, they both slept.
The next morning Beth awakened slowly. She became aware of several things simultaneously: the light that pricked the back of her eyelids, the weight of Chance’s arm across her chest, the sweet sting of muscles she hadn’t even known she had.
Beth moaned and shifted. Her body ached, her limbs felt heavy, her head fuzzy. She found the combination delicious.
Even as sleep beckoned her back, Beth blinked her eyes, gazing at the brilliant sunlight peeking in from behind the heavy drapes. Moving carefully, Beth shimmied from under Chance’s arm so she could see the bedside clock.
They had just under two hours before they needed to be at the gallery.
She smiled. Enough time for her to take a minute to savor this time with Chance. To gaze at him. To revel in the fact that, for this moment, he was hers.
Beth shifted again, propping herself up on an elbow, gazing down at him. He was so handsome, she thought, tenderness welling in her chest. And such a good lover. She blushed, thinking of the things he had done to her body, of the things she’d done to his.
Who had that woman been? she wondered. How had she gone from naive to wanton in one night?
Chance. She trusted and loved him. She had opened to him like a flower to the sun. No other man could have touched her so, no other man could have broken through her barriers of shyness and fear.
Beth shook her head in wonder and reached out and touched the arch of one of his dark eyebrows. Was he dreaming? she mused. And if so, was he dreaming of her?
He moaned in his sleep and wiggled his nose. Beth snatched her hand back, insecurity and doubts barreling through her. What would today bring?
This morning they would go to the gallery and finalize plans for the Summer Show, then head home.
Home. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. And the truth.
Fear trembled through her. She tried to push it away, but it wouldn’t be quelled. It clawed at her until her heart raced and her breath came in short, quick gasps.
At this rate she would wake him. And he would see her fear, her uncertainty; he would have questions. Questions she didn’t want to answer—not yet.
Beth climbed quietly out of the bed, holding her breath as he muttered something and turned over. She slipped into her gown and robe, then collected her things. After peeking out at the hallway to make sure it was deserted, she hurried to her room.
As Beth ducked through the door, paper crackled beneath her feet. She stooped to pick up the hotel envelope, her name and room number printed neatly on its front. Drawing her eyebrows together in question, she ripped it open.
From Eva, the message read: You’ve been a very bad girl! Call me.
Beth stared at the message, heat climbing her cheeks. How had Eva found out about her and Chance’s night together? Was her grandmother psychic?
Even as embarrassment took her breath, Beth shook her head. Her grandmother was not a psychic. Eva’s message referred to the fact that Beth hadn’t called her as she’d promised she would. Or that she hadn’t returned her call from the night before.
Of course that was it.
But still...
A trembling sensation in the pit of her stomach, Beth sank onto the bed. She glanced at her cell, then the bedside clock.
Eva wouldn’t be up yet; this message was nothing—certainly not enough to wake her grandmother over.
Then why did she feel this burning urgency to call her now, not later? Why did she have the feeling that her world was about to fall apart?
She would make the call and prove to herself that the message really was nothing. She dialed, her fingers shaking so badly, she misdialed twice.
Raphael answered on the sixth ring. “Beth?” he said groggily after her greeting. “Where are you? San Francisco?”
“That’s right,” Beth managed, despite her pounding heart. “I’m returning Eva’s call. Is she there?”
“Yeah.” He yawned into the receiver. “I’ll get her. By the way, congrats, kiddo, I couldn’t have been happier when I heard the news. Hold on.”
Congratulations? News? “Raph, wait—”
Beth bit back the words and a sound of frustration. He’d already gone in search of Eva. A moment later her grandmother picked up. “Darling! I had to hear the news from Raphael? I can’t believe you didn’t call before this.”
“Eva, I just got your message and—”
“Just got my message? My, my.” The older woman laughed. “I knew this would happen. And I couldn’t be more delighted. Didn’t I tell you to trust me? Didn’t I tell you everything would work out?”
“Eva, stop!” Beth worked to calm herself. “What are you talking about?”
Her grandmother paused. “Why, the Summer Show, of course. The gallery director told Raph that you were it.”
“Me?” Beth repeated, confused. She clutched the phone cord so tightly, her fingers went numb. “That’s impossible.”
“How late were you out last night?” Eva made a clucking sound. “Of course it’s not impossible. It’s a fact. You’re the Summer Show’s launch artist.”
Feeling as if she’d been punched squarely in the chest, Beth’s breath hissed from her lungs. “You mean Liza’s the launch artist.”
“No. The director told Raph the artist’s name was Elizabeth Waters.”
Beth sank to the bed, the truth rocketing through her. Chance knew. He had known last night. He had known for some time.
“Why didn’t you tell me you and Chance had talked? This is the most exciting news. You, the launch artist—”
“Eva... I... we... didn’t—” Her words caught on a sob, a wave of devastation overtaking her. “I have to go.”
Beth dropped the receiver back into its cradle, then brought her shaking hands to her face.
Chance knew. For how long, she couldn’t guess. It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that everything they had shared had been a lie. Beth dropped her hands and stared blankly at the wall, a dozen different emotions tumbling through her, not the least of which were betrayal and shame.
Tears welled in her eyes, then slid down her cheeks. What had last night been about? The whole scene—the intimate picnic, the twinkling lights, everything.
She caught her breath on a racking sob as she realized the truth. It had been a scene, all right. One set up to punish her. To teach her a lesson.
Lesson number two.
His words rang in her head, cruelly mocking her.
She’d been such a fool. A starry-eyed idiot. Wrapping her arms around herself, she doubled over, the sound that wrenched from inside her hollow and hurting. Why hadn’t she suspected or questioned? She’d been so stupid. So... trusting.
Beth swiped at the tears on her cheeks. How could she have thought that suddenly he had been interested in her? In plain, mousy Beth Waters. In the woman no man before had been interested in, let alone a man as attractive and worldly as Chance Michaels? He’d called her sexy. Alluring. She had believed him so easily. Because she had wanted to so badly.
What a great laugh he must have had at her expense.
It hurt so much, she thought she might die.
Don’t let him get away with it.
The thought threa
ded through her pain and devastation, and she rubbed her hands over her tear-streaked face. Don’t let him get away with it, she thought again. Her every instinct screamed for her to run and hide, to spare herself the agony of seeing him again. Spare herself looking into his eyes and knowing that what they’d shared had been nothing but vicious payback.
Beth stood. Two months ago she would have followed her instincts and done just that. Two months ago, because of her fears, she’d created the charade that had gotten her into this mess.
She inched her trembling chin up. She’d changed. Just as she had planned to face him with her own lie, she would face him with his.
She wouldn’t run. She would never run again.
Beth showered, scrubbing her body and hair, attempting to remove all traces of Chance from her person. But she couldn’t scrub away the ache in her muscles, and each time she moved she was reminded of their night together and the lie of his lovemaking.
Nor could she wash away the pain in her heart.
She dressed, then packed. Using the mundane chore to help calm herself, she neatly hung and folded her clothes. She managed to ignore the way her hands shook, but couldn’t ignore the quiver of hysteria hovering just at the edge of her calm.
How was she going to face Chance without falling apart?
Her packing finished, Beth took a deep breath. Get it over with, she told herself. Then move on. After taking one last look at her sterile hotel room, she let herself out of it and headed to his.
Chance answered before she’d even finished knocking. She took one look at him and her hard-fought control crumbled. She saw relief in his eyes. And a lingering alarm. He’d showered and dressed, yet something in his expression still looked sleepy and sated.
“Beth, thank God. I was worried.”
He swung open the door, and she brushed past him without speaking. A cry flew to her throat as she saw the bed, as she realized the room smelled of their lovemaking. She choked back the cry and turned slowly to face him.
“I missed you,” he murmured. “When I woke and saw that you’d gone—”
Tempting Chance Page 13
