by Lee Damon
It went on for endless minutes until, finally, it was all too much for Kitt and, still clinging to him, still kissing him, she began to cry silent tears. Dimly, he became aware of tasting salt, and loosened his hold on her arm to brush his hand across her cheek. Lifting his mouth away from hers, he took a deep, ragged breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out slowly. He relaxed the tight grip of his other arm and eased her slightly back from him so he could look at her.
He savored the signs of passion in her face and eyes, knowing that she was seeing the same evidence on him. With a gentle hand, he smoothed back her hair, brushed the tears away and pressed her head down onto his shoulder. Eyes closed, he rested his cheek against her sun-warmed hair and reveled in the feel of her adventuring hands as they slowly moved over his bare shoulders, down across his chest and around to his back. He cradled a firm breast in his hand, pressing his palm against the tight nipple, and sucked in a quick breath as he felt her tongue trace a warm, wet path along his collarbone.
She shivered with reaction as his deep voice, hoarse with emotion, growled in her ear, "My beautiful Kitt. All of you. I've waited so long to be able to love all of you. And I'll make it beautiful for you, my Kitt. You can believe that now, can't you?"
She stretched up against him to reach his neck with her mouth, and her breasts pressed into his fur again as he slid his cradling hand away and down the length of her body, his fingers pushing under her bikini pants to slowly stroke the smooth, taut skin of her buttocks. "Oh, yes," she promised, her voice husky with love. "It's gone—the fear and the panic. All I can feel now is... I want you. I want to feel... you... inside me... part of me."
Her words and the plea in her voice jolted through him, and his exploring hand reflexively gripped her buttock. "Ooo'Maraa," she groaned. "Easy. I'm going to have some very strange bruises. How would you like me to grab you?"
He froze into immobility as he felt her hand move down his back, then around and down over his ribs to his stomach, where it hesitated.
I can't. She felt the roughness of fabric under the heel of her hand, but her fingers were still resting on warm skin. Yes, I can. I've dreamed about touching him. I've thought about it. Now. I need to know that I can be as loving and giving as he is. As he needs me to be. Move your hand, Kittredge. Prove to both of you that you really are all over the fear. Do it NOW. She pressed her hot face into his neck and slowly, hesitantly, slid her wide-spread hand down over the tightly stretched denim, pausing as her fingers brushed against his hard, pulsing maleness.
The words were a warm, breathy moan in her ear. "Touch me, love. Please."
She moved her hand fractionally closer and hesitated again. "Help me," she whispered against the heated dampness of his neck.
She was suspended in a haze of erotic longing where seconds seemed to stretch on and on. She almost jumped when she felt his hand on hers, gently encouraging, until her fingers curved around him, tentatively examining the strangeness and then becoming bolder as she felt his heart hammering against her breasts, and his breath, uneven and hot, in her ear.
With their unique ability to link thoughts and feelings, she felt the powerful tide of joyful relief surging through him and mingling with his intense arousal as he experienced the full measure of her loss of fear and her determined overthrow of inhibition in her desire to please him. She knew he was clamping an iron restraint on his own inclinations, and giving her time to test her newly awakened seductive urges.
Almost with a will of its own, her hand moved more confidently over him in a tactile discovery of the dimensions and strength of him, and her mind blanked out in the force of molten desire that flamed through her, only infinitesimally weakened by the tiny tendrils of lingering apprehension. Although he was almost as mindless as she was, he sensed the hint of uncertainty and its cause. He also knew that it would only take another few moments of this powerful, growing sexual tension before they'd be naked and lost in each other on that mat, uncaring and unaware if Midge, Gus and half the town stood around and applauded. Which was entirely possible, and not at all what he wanted for her.
His hands closed around her arms, lifting and holding her away from him. "Kitt, we have to stop this now," he grated in a voice thick with need. "Look at me, love." He cradled her face with one hand, shaking her slightly until she blinked open dazed eyes and finally focused them on his face.
"O'Mara?" she whispered, her brightening gaze noting the sheen of moisture on his skin, the flush fading from his cheekbones, the warm glow of love subduing the hot blaze of passion in his eyes, and she knew that he was seeing the same things in her.
Suddenly, the last wisps of fog cleared from her mind, and realization crashed through her in an instantaneous replay of the preceding minutes. Her eyes and mouth snapped wide open as she stared at him in shocked, delighted incredulity.
"O'Mara! I did it!" she squealed, flinging her arms around his neck, her expression changing to triumphant joy as she scattered kisses over his laughing face, exultantly whooping, "I really did it! Oh, you are a beautiful man... and you're mine... all mine... I love you... and now we can... spend hours... weeks... months!... in that gorgeous huge bed... and you can teach me... all sorts of fantastic things... and between times... we can live in that... Arabian Nights fantasy of a bathroom... and... O'Mara?"
"What, love?" he gasped, still laughing.
"How do you make love in a hot tub?" she asked curiously.
"Very carefully," he answered with a grin. "Taking due care not to drown each other. Whatever made you think of that?"
"Er... something I heard."
She gazed at him with a happy smile, feeling lightheaded with the exhilarating sense of release from a long nightmare coupled with the powerful, sweeping tide of love flowing between her and this strong, passionate, yet gentle man. Gradually, they quieted, and she discovered she was angled half across his lap, held securely in the curve of one arm and resting against his upraised knees. His free hand was trailing lightly over the smooth, warm skin of her thigh, while his interested eyes traced their own tingling path down her nearly naked body. She watched his possessive examination of her firm breasts and slim, supple form. The gleaming blue eyes flicked back to meet her look of fond indulgence.
First startled and then amused, he said with mock-menace, "If you're smart, you shameless wench, you'll stop looking at me like a doting mother offering treats to her good boy." His caressing hand wandered over her bare hip and across her stomach, strong fingers gently massaging her tautening muscles, as he leaned forward to nip at her earlobe and growl, "Keep tempting me, and I may give you a few treats you aren't expecting."
She laughed up at him. "Tease!" she dared. "You wouldn't. Not when Midge might come up here at any minute. Or Gus or somebody else."
"Midge," he said smugly, "knows better than to let anyone up here." And his hand closed caressingly over her breast while he trailed nibbling kisses down her neck.
"Oooooh... no... wait," she panted. She grabbed his wrist, but then loosened her hold to run her fingers over the soft mat of fur on his arm. "You beast!... You made me stop... and now you're...." Her voice died away in a low moan as his hand moved to cup her breast and his warm mouth closed over the peak, his tongue flicking teasing circles around the hard nipple.
Her back arched and she was raising her hands to his head when he stopped, lifted and turned her, and she suddenly found herself kneeling beside him, hands clutching his shoulders for balance, while he laughed up at her with wickedly gleaming eyes. He bent forward to press a quick kiss on her belly, and then rose to his feet in one lithe move, picking up his shirt and tossing it to her.
"Here, temptress," he chided, laughing, "put this on before you stand up in front of the world and all the boaters. Unless, of course," he added teasingly, "you have more treats for me."
Her eyes flashed silvery fire as she lifted her upper lip and growled at him.
He grinned appreciatively. "You must have learned that from Hero, a
nd you do it very well, love. What are you doing? You've got it on backward. Here, let me help you. Hold still, wiggle-worm. God, you've got at least four arms. There, you're decent." He pulled her to her feet. "Come on. I've brought you a present."
Ignoring her eager questions, he tugged her after him into the living room. "It's on the sofa."
She turned and took a step forward, then stopped short, staring incredulously at the dress draped over the sofa. It can't possibly be the same one, she thought, as her mind formed a picture of a much younger Kitt turning and gliding in O'Mara's arms, enjoying his admiration of her softly swirling dress patterned in shades of blue and green. Slowly, still half-convinced it was a mirage, she moved to the sofa and picked up the dress. Holding it against herself with both hands, she swung around to look at O'Mara in delighted wonder.
"It's the same," she said dazedly. "I swear it is. Same colors, same swirly pattern, same design. Oh, you darling, how ever did you find a dress just like that one?"
"I didn't," he stated, his face mirroring her pleasure. "I spotted the material in a shop window in Zurich on the second day of the trip. I must have stood there for five minutes staring at it, trying to figure out why it looked familiar, until I finally remembered that dress you wore on our last date. The clerk figured out the yardage from my description and—What are you doing?"
With her back turned to him, Kitt was pulling off the shirt he'd just lent her. "Trying it on, silly." She dropped the dress over her head, catching the halter top as the soft folds of the skirt slithered down her legs. Nimble fingers zipped and hooked, and she spun around to face him, sending the skirt whirling and floating around her legs.
"I love it. I love you." She took a couple of dancing steps toward him and threw her arms around his neck, going up on tiptoe to kiss him, her mouth lingering on his as she felt his arms close about her.
For a few moments, he held her against him, enjoying her newfound confidence as she eagerly explored his mouth, before finally easing her back a few inches so he could look at her. Well pleased with her response to his gift, his mouth widened in a slow, satisfied smile.
"You're welcome," he murmured teasingly as his hands tightened on her hips and one eyebrow lifted in mocking inquiry. "I can't wait to see how you'll thank me for your ring."
"What ring?"
"The one I'm having made for you. No, don't ask. I'm not telling you any more. It's a surprise."
"Why do I feel as though I'm in the middle of one of your plots? Oh, all right," she said crossly over his laughter. "I won't ask—I'll let it all just happen. Now, finish telling me about my dress." She gazed at him expectantly, while her hands, seemingly of their own accord, drifted up to play in the curls on his chest.
"If you don't stop that, my girl, we'll be finishing this discussion in your bedroom... in a couple of hours. Or maybe longer." He grabbed her hands, chuckling at her rapidly changing expressions of chagrin, disappointment and, finally, a very feminine awareness.
"Oh, no. Get that seductive gleam out of your eye, my love. When I take you to bed for the first time, it's not going to be in the middle of the afternoon with a strong possibility of being interrupted in the next half-hour." Turning her around and giving her a light slap on the bottom, he added, "Why don't you run and change, while I fix some coffee? And be a good wench and cover up some of that distracting skin! We've got to discuss your skinny admirer, and I'd like to do it before Ed Bancroft shows up."
Startled, she turned back and gasped, "How did you know?"
"How could I not know? I came in through the shop, and Midge practically climbed up me in excitement, talking at approximately fifteen hundred words a minute, with nary a breath in between them. However, I will say that she's done a masterful job organizing protection. I think she's got half the town involved. Can't imagine why he hasn't been spotted, unless you and Hero scared him into the next state."
Which was not entirely true. He could think of a couple of reasons, the most likely being that the rather inept housebreaker had decided to lie low for a few days before getting up the courage to try again. It was highly unlikely that he'd realize how many times he'd been spotted and just how much had been pieced together about his activities.
O'Mara automatically fixed two mugs of coffee, his agile mind busy considering various possibilities. He didn't think that a howling dog and a flash of light would permanently frighten off a man who had apparently spent over two weeks on a concentrated spying project. There was no question in O'Mara's mind that the spy was an amateur; he was much too obvious to be a professional. Mouth twisting in a disparaging smile, the big ex-spy briefly considered just how easy it would be to keep a close watch on an unsuspecting Kitt without ever being noticed.
Poking around for something to nibble on, he discovered that the cookie jar was full of chocolate chip cookies, and helped himself to a handful before settling down at the breakfast bar to wait for Kitt. Munching absently on a cookie, he stared at the refrigerator while he went back to second- guessing their scrawny spy and planning his personal campaign to catch him. O'Mara was much more interested in getting his hands on the young man and doing his own questioning than in helping the police pick him up. He doubted if the watcher had gone too far away, although if he had a modicum of sense, he'd have acquired another car. The trick was going to be in lulling the police or tossing them a red herring, calling off Midge's watchdogs and making it appear to anyone watching that everyone had given up interest. Then, with Ez's help—
"Hi! What are you so deep in thought about?" Kitt dropped onto the stool next to him and reached for her coffee. "I see you've raided the cookie jar."
"Mmmmm. They're good, even better than Andy's. You make them?"
"Of course. And don't eat them all, greedy, they're for Gus." She grinned at him, reaching to break off a piece of the cookie in his hand and nibble on it.
Glancing at the clock, he said, "I understand he's going to be here shortly, and so is Ed Bancroft. Now tell me quickly, before we're interrupted, just what's been going on."
"I thought Midge told you."
"She did, but I want to hear your version. Indulge me, love." He turned the full impact of a coaxing smile on her, and she gave in—albeit with a gleam in her eye that said clearly "I know what you're doing"—and concisely reviewed the recent happenings.
He listened attentively, sipping coffee and eating cookies, occasionally offering a piece to Hero who was sitting on his foot. It only took Kitt a few minutes to run through the facts and answer his two or three questions.
"What do you think he wants? Why would anyone be watching me?" she asked anxiously at the end.
"I'm not sure. There's a couple of things that come to mind, but—" He smiled at her reassuringly. "Let me think about it. Meanwhile, you stop worrying. I'm not about to let anyone bother you. Or Gus." He caught himself up, on the verge of mentioning that Ez would be there tomorrow, deciding that the fact of Ez coming up a day early would make her think things were more serious than they actually were. Briefly, he debated telling Ez to come up Friday as usual, but concluded that things would move faster in the direction he wanted them to go with both of them working on the problem. And the sooner the better.
"O'Mara?" Kitt's voice brought him back to the present. "Have you thought of something?"
"Lots of things," he said blandly. "For instance, I didn't finish telling you about your dress. After I bought the material in Zurich, I didn't have time to do anything with it until I got to Stockholm. I was going to be there for several days, so I found a dressmaker, sketched the dress I remembered and described as many details as I could recall, and she had it ready for me the day before I left."
"Sometimes, O'Mara, you are just too much. I can't believe you remembered that dress so perfectly after all these years."
"Well, it was a rather special dress, and a very special night." He leaned toward her, catching and holding her gaze. "The dress is only the beginning of what I remember... in vivid deta
il... sight, sound and... touch."
Again, Kitt had the odd feeling that the world was sort of going away somewhere. Her mind seemed to up-anchor and drift on a tide of pure sensation. He's giving me hot flashes again. How can anyone have eyes that color? Maybe they just look like sapphires because of that dark tan. He must have spent most of his trip outdoors. I'll never win an argument. All he has to do is look at me like that and, "if he doesn't stop it, I'll start taking off my clothes again, right now."
O'Mara threw back his head and shouted with laughter. Kitt turned flaming red and clapped both hands over her mouth.
"Oh, damn," she wailed, "did I say that out loud?"
He was wiping away tears and still breaking up in spurts of laughter when they heard thudding feet on the stairs and Gus yelling, "Dad! Hey, Dad, when did you get home? Did you hear what happened to Kitt?"
He ran across the living room, Hero at his heels, and threw himself into his father's arms. Over O'Mara's shoulder, Gus winked impishly at Kitt and teased, "Hey, Kitt, aren't you glad he's back? Now you'll have someone besides me to hug and kiss you. I'll bet Dad's even better at it than I am."
O'Mara grinned at him. "You know it."
Kitt stood and stretched, then leaned over to reach out and hook a finger around Gus's belt, pulling him toward her until they were nose-to-nose. Crossing their eyes, they giggled at each other, and then Kitt said, in a comforting tone, "Don't feel bad, Gus. It's just that he's been practicing longer. Give it a few more years and you'll be every bit as good at huggin' and kissin' as he is." Her voice dropped to a loud whisper. "Maybe even better."
With a smile that could only be described as doting, O'Mara watched the easy rapport between his son and a Kitt who seemed to be getting younger and gayer with every passing hour. He listened to their laughing give-and-take as they raided the refrigerator and cookie jar. Appreciatively, he let his eyes wander over Kitt's slim but far from delicate form, admiring the snug fit of her white jeans and slate-blue knit shirt. She turned and caught him at it, and for a long, intense moment, her gaze locked with his in a heated exchange of silent messages that fairly scorched the air between them. At last, with visible effort, they broke the contact and turned their attention back to Gus, both of them secure in the knowledge that their long wait for total fulfillment of their love was almost at an end.
