A surge of heat shot between her legs. He looked so damned good standing there. Like a sculpture of some ancient Greek god illuminated by the light of the moon. Powerful image. Powerful man.
“Say something, sweetheart. Are you here, or am I imagining things?”
The sound of his voice made her jump. Of course. His hearing would be acute, compensating for his lack of vision.
“No…I’m here,” she answered softly. “If you move about four steps to the right, you can reach out and touch me. Sorry to disturb you. I couldn’t sleep. I heard Chopin playing and thought you might be out here having some secret middle-of-the-night liaison.”
He laughed. “Yeah, right. No liaison. Just a restless night. But the music works almost as well as the real thing. You should try it sometime. Lose yourself in the music of the masters. Wipe the cobwebs away. You want wine? If you can’t sleep, it might help.”
“Wine would be nice,” she whispered, and wondered if he could tell from her voice how much she wanted to jump his bones.
When he came back, he leaned against the concrete balustrade and handed her the wine.
She nodded her thanks and then, feeling like a fool, thanked him aloud, adding, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“When you look at me…what do you see? I know you can see a form, an outline of me, but what exactly do you see?”
He faced her. Legs apart, elbows out, one hand with his drink, one hand at his waist. Kate took a deep breath and held it.
“My vision is much better in daylight, natural light, than it is in the dark. Tonight, I see the outline of your body—it appears dense—darker than the space around you. You’re about five four to five six, slender, but with curves. I don’t see the color of your hair or its texture and style, or the features of your face. I know you have pretty light-brown hair with natural curl, and hazel eyes that shimmer in the light—Jake and Rush, my buddies, told me that much. I’ve watched you walk. You’re all woman and you move like one. A feminine strut. Drives a man wild, by the way.”
“You see quite a lot for a man with limited vision.” She laughed. “What else?”
“Sight is enhanced by compensating senses. Touch, taste, smell, hearing, all allow me to ‘see.’ That’s why I ran my fingers over your face and hair. The impressions blend together and give me a picture of you. I see—I just see differently than most. My friends were right—you are a beautiful woman. Confirmed by these.” He held his hands up, fingers waving in the air.
“I wish you could see the expressions on my face,” she whispered wistfully.
“I can…I can see you smile through the sound of your voice. Facial expressions change the way tones come from your mouth.”
“I never realized a person in your position could learn to function so well. It’s amazing.”
“Yeah. I’ve got superpowers, and ‘amazing’ is my middle name.”
He braced his body on the railing, and with a swift hop, joined her on her balcony. Kate gasped.
Catching her upper arms in his hands, he steadied them both, then drew her into the cocoon of his embrace.
“You nut. Are you crazy? You could have killed yourself.” Anger and fright tightened her voice, and her heart stuttered in her chest. “I have a front door, you know. You didn’t have to…”
His mouth closed over hers, effectively killing further protestations. The tip of his tongue teased the seam of her lips.
“Open for me, lady.”
Surprise took care of her response, and her lips melted under his. He tasted good. Smelled better.
His neck twisted as he slanted his mouth against hers and came in wet and deep, relentless, and so hot. So very, very hot. Urgent, exploring. Demanding. Male.
“Cash,” she breathed.
“Been wanting to do that again since the first time I kissed you.”
Her mind told her to pull away, run from danger, spare them both the collision that would surely come. Her body had a different idea.
Her body stepped in, and she splayed her hands on the heat of his chest while he drank his fill of her mouth. Again, the feeling of rightness penetrated her consciousness.
A good feeling, and she clung to it.
While he kissed, his hands roamed her body. Before, she would have pushed away, run away. Not now. Not this time. This time she wanted his kiss to go on forever, and an involuntary mewl vibrated from her throat.
Cash brought her closer, his hands digging into the flesh of her arms. “Fuck, you taste good.” One hand slipped to her nape, the other cupped her ass. The thick, rigid hardness of his arousal burned through her clothes.
His big body drove her back against the wall, and he gripped her thigh, bringing it around his waist. Of its own accord, her other leg lifted to cradle him, and in a moment of clarity, Kate realized her decision had been made.
Fingertips clutching his biceps, she clung as tremors shook her limbs. His hand slipped low to her hips to support her weight, fingers impatiently shoving the gusset to her panties aside and finding the hot, slick folds of her sex wet and waiting.
“Lady,” he whispered against her. “Damn. I want you so bad.”
She heard him in a haze, her body with a mind of its own, rubbing against his fingers, throbbing, seeking purchase. One thick finger slid inside, then another. Kate moaned as the dance of heat and desire took over.
“That’s right, baby, move with me, don’t stop. Take what you need.”
Their tongues kept weaving, sucking, drinking deeply, tasting. She hungered for him, and they kissed until she broke for breath.
“Cash…”
“What?” he growled, sending sparks of pure fire straight to her aching, wet core.
“This feels so good—so right,” she whispered against his mouth.
“That’s because it is right,” he rasped. “I know it, and somewhere deep inside—you know it.”
His hands glided down, captured and laced his fingers with hers. Bringing her arms over her head, he threaded them together, holding them high with one hand, freeing the other to slide between the wall and her behind.
Kate reveled in the heat of his body as he enveloped her, as he crushed her to him. They fit together perfectly. His hardness pulsing against her softness, his strength supporting her, big hands digging into the flesh of her bottom, his mouth devouring hers. God, how had she denied them this? And all around them the velvet night and soaring music infused the night with magic. Night music, swirling around them, through them, inside them. Kate could hardly breathe. He let her break from him, and she inhaled deeply.
“If we’re stopping, now is the time. Another minute will be too late. Call it, Kate. What’s it going to be?”
Chapter Ten
Burying her face in his neck, she breathed a kiss against his skin. She was right. This did feel right. The softness of her skin, all the textures of her body, her scent. Everything about her called to him.
“If you’re gonna make me stop, do it now while I’m still able to. Otherwise…”
“Cash…”
He took that as a yes, carried her from the wall, burst through the doors, stalked to her bed, dropped her in the middle, and followed her down.
It was going great.
Right up until the point when it wasn’t.
When Cash reached to pull her short nightie over her head, Kate’s arms suddenly crossed over her chest protectively, and she broke away. What had been a burning flame in his arms was suddenly gone, leaving him empty and cold.
From turned on to tuned out in one second. It took him another few seconds to make the adjustment.
One minute she’d been writhing under him, as hot for him as he was for her, and then? What the heck?
“Kate?” He touched the back of her shoulder. She was trembling. Cash felt her fear, and had no trouble downshifting. “Lady, what’s wrong?” he turned her to face him, and his hand smoothed the hair back from her tense face.
She di
dn’t answer. Nothing.
“Kate?” he asked again, confused. Had he done something wrong? Hurt her?
Nothing but silence.
He felt a wall the size of a mountain shut him down, shut him out.
Cash pushed up on his forearms, and it hit him.
Of course. The conversation she’d had with her friend Ellie. The one he’d overheard when he shouldn’t have been listening. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was self-conscious about her breasts. All he’d heard was that she’d had the disease—and a surgery, he assumed, to remove it. She’d survived, lived. That was the important thing.
Yet to her it was something more. Clark Burgess. He’d made her feel this way. Rage threatened to overtake him. How could any man make a courageous woman like Kate feel less than beautiful? How could any man stand on the sidelines and watch as a woman he supposedly loved went through the horrendous treatment it took to destroy the disease? God! He wanted to kill the man.
Before, when he’d kissed her, she’d protected her chest, hidden it from him. Now, when things were heating up between them, she turned away. From blazing hot to ice cold in the space of a second. Her reactions began to make sense.
Such a burden.
Kate thought he didn’t know, and when he reached for her breast, it threw her into a full-blown panic attack.
Jesus, Burgess had done a number on her. She cowered on the bed, intermittent sniffles told him she was crying, and his heart broke for her. This close, he could sense the destruction he’d caused oozing from every pore, and he braked from eighty to zero in a nanosecond. One false move now and she’d be gone.
Perhaps forever.
Her chest rose and fell, dragging in shallow breaths. A choking sound came from her throat as she fought her way back. Shivers of nerves shook her shoulders.
Cash’s gut tightened. Someday he’d make her abusive ex pay for what he’d done to this woman. But for now, he owed her an explanation.
“Kate,” he breathed, hurting for her, with her. “Sweetheart, stop. Listen to me. You have nothing to be afraid of. I’d never hurt you. You know that, don’t you? Let me in. I can face the demons with you.”
“Get off…please. I can’t breathe.” She roughly pushed at him and rolled to the side of the bed. When he reached out to touch her back, she curled in on herself. “You…you don’t know something you should. Before we…if we…” Her voice broke.
Damn. Tears.
“Sweetheart, look at me.” He scooted closer and gently stroked the dampness of her tears from her face. “Please don’t cry. Whatever it is—you can trust me. Kate, please.”
She shook her head.
He cautiously gripped her jaw, and gently forced her face to his, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Tell me. Trust me. It’s all right.”
****
Kate went absolutely still for the space of a heartbeat.
“You know? About the c-cancer, the surgery?” she stammered. “How?”
Cash smoothed the hair from her face and cautiously gathered her closer to his warmth. She didn’t object, so he ran his hands gently up and down her back, quieting her ragged breathing. As her shivers slowed, her breath evened out, and she gave a delicate sniff.
“How?” she asked again, with a tiny lift of her shoulder.
“I overheard the two of you talking the other night. You were upset, so I waited on the balcony, just in case.”
He heard her? Talking to Ellie? Then he’d heard a lot, some of which—a lot of which—concerned him. Oh, God!
“I wanted to see you again, and I didn’t want you to run. I’m not sorry, Kate. There’s no way I’m letting this come between us. You need to trust me, lady. Let me help you work through this.” He let his hand trail down her back and up again, warming her skin, touching the heart of her. “Touching you, seeing you through my fingertips…it’s not going to change anything. You’re beautiful, sweetheart, not only physically but in every way. And you’re worth so much more than a face or a body. Somehow, I’m going to convince you of that.”
He petted her while she processed what he’d said. Her hair, her back, her hip, until finally she relaxed against him.
“Mad at you,” she said in a small voice.
“Yeah. Got that. But, sweetheart, the pressure’s off. Does it turn me off that you have scars on your body?” He brought her hand to the raised circular scar where a bullet had grazed his shoulder, then to his eyes and the ridges around them. “Got a few of my own. Touch it. Does it make you want me less?”
She could feel the movement of his eyes under the lids and it made her ashamed. At least she still had all her working parts.
Kate shook her head.
“Sweetheart, I can’t see. Talk to me.”
“No,” she breathed.
“I can only see parts of you, shadows of you, shapes…do you find me less attractive because my sight is limited?”
Again, quietly, “No.”
“Sweetheart, your scars are a badge of courage. Does it bother me, as a man, that the woman I care about is more beautiful because of her scars than any other woman on the face of the earth? Hell, no.”
“How do you know I’m beautiful?” she asked.
Just like Suzanna. Daddy, how do you know I’m beautiful?
If he repeated what he’d told his daughter, it might scare her away. It was too soon. So, he fell back on the visual—the root of the problem.
“Got my friends’ word on that. They wouldn’t lie. Not about how a woman looks. I can feel for myself you’re all woman. Jesus, Kate. I’m the blind man. Haven’t you noticed that when you walk into a room populated by men, all eyes are on you? That first night, when you took the floor with me, the air left the fucking room. I could feel it. That was for you, lady. You’re more than the sum total of your parts. As much as I want to get my hands on them, it’s not your breasts that draw me to you. Don’t you know that as breathtaking as you are on the outside, you’re far more beautiful on the inside? I don’t need twenty-twenty vision to ‘see’ the wonderful woman you are.”
****
His kindness did her in. How could she resist a man like Cash? He thought she was beautiful inside and out—he was so much more of a man than any male she’d ever known. Her defenses crumbled.
Tenderly, gently, cautiously, he kissed her, his lips smooth and firm, his taste intoxicating. His body strong yet, mindful of her state of mind, cradling hers in a way that made her feel safe and cherished.
He deepened the kiss until the negative thoughts that so often claimed her all but disappeared. It would be so easy to fall in love with this man. It was far too soon to even think the word “love,” but she certainly loved the care he took with her bruised feelings, the respect with which he excited her body, the excitement of sharing a measure of a man who knew what it meant to be a man.
It might be too soon for love. It wasn’t too soon for trust. That he had earned.
He trailed kisses to the hollow of her throat, the delicate bones bracketing her neck, learning the places that brought her pleasure, enjoying her subtle mewls, bringing her back to the passion his lips created.
Cash slid his forefinger under the hem of her nightie and slowly lifted it over her head. Instinctively, her arms crossed over her breasts. She shivered, and he stopped.
“Let me. I won’t hurt you.”
“I know, but I can’t…”
He nodded and covered her chest with her gown. She needed the barrier, the protection.
Kate lifted her face and touched her lips to his. “Thank you.”
Cash took the hint. “I should leave. It’s late…I’m…sorry.”
“No, don’t go. I don’t want you to leave. Can’t you stay? For a while?”
“I don’t want to go, but I need to check on Suzanna.” His forefinger traced the side of her jaw.
She nodded. “Of course. Thank you—thanks for tonight. For understanding.”
He hesitated. “There’s something spec
ial going on here. I feel it; you feel it. Whatever roadblocks we face, we’ll work them out. I’m not ready to walk away. I hope you’re not either.”
“You’re right. I’ve been cowering behind my illness for so long, it’s become a default mechanism. As long as you know what you’re in for, I’m willing to give us a shot.” The statement sounded like a question.
“Good.” He planted a soft kiss on her lips and left.
****
Kate got home from work the next day totally stressed. If it could go wrong—it did. All she wanted was a long bath, a quick meal, and a night with a good book to take her mind off her problems.
By the time she crawled into bed, she was half asleep. A little after midnight, the strains of Beethoven filtered in through her cracked French doors.
Cash. He must not be able to sleep. Does he have nightmares? Many vets did. Sometimes they lasted years—a lifetime. Was that why he stayed awake, playing music, seeking solace?
Slipping her hand beneath her cheek, she closed her eyes, thinking of him. His words, his touch. One minute she was drifting into dreamland, the next, a warm body scooted her over on the bed.
“I couldn’t stand being alone. I peeped in on Suzanna, and she’s sleeping like a log.”
Kate smiled. “You need some company.”
“You—I need you. Are you tired?”
“Yeah. Long day, but you can stay. I confess to being a snuggler.”
“I’ve been known to snuggle.” He grinned suggestively. “As long as I can be with you for a little while.”
“Bad dream?” she asked, holding up the covers in invitation.
“Yeah. I still have them from time to time. Not nearly as often, but if I’m stressed, or if something unexpected triggers them. I was called in to a soldier’s bedside today. Double amputee. Poor guy’s girlfriend broke up with him via e-mail. Lousy thing to do.”
She agreed. “Awful thing to do. Do you visit the hospital often?”
A Little Night Music Page 10
