by P. G. Forte
“Oh, babe.” He combed his fingers through her hair. “You really want to know how I feel about other women? It’s like Shakespeare said, Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry, where most she satisfies.”
He kissed her neck. His hand slid down her back; a slow, gentle caress that left her shivering as she snuggled closer. “He wrote it about Cleopatra. But it’s always reminded me of you. I swear you’re the only woman who interests me, Luce.” His lips brushed hers. “And right now... I’m very, very interested.”
“Tell me more.” She sighed against his mouth. Her voice trembled.
He chuckled. “You’re just never satisfied, are you? Okay, then,” His mouth close to her ear, his hands roaming eagerly over her body, he recited in a tender whisper, “Age cannot wither, nor custom stale her infinite variety...”
And then, for a long time, neither of them said anything at all.
“Ah, God, babe.” Dan sighed with satisfaction as he rolled onto his back, taking her with him so that she lay sprawled on top of him. “I don’t know what you think I could possibly be missing that I’d have to go someplace else to get it. It just doesn’t get any better than this.”
“Oh, is that so?” She raised her head to look at him; wishing that for just one minute she could be Marsha. That she could know what Dan was really thinking. Or, then again, maybe not. “And you’re basing this opinion on what experience, exactly?”
“Don’t even go there.” He chuckled as his eyes closed sleepily. “Woman, some things a man just knows. And that’s all I’m gonna say.”
“Still,” she said, tracing patterns through the hair on his chest with her fingernail. “I suppose you could just want a little... variety... every now and then. Couldn’t you?”
“Mm-hm.” His voice sounded blurry with sleep. “Absolutely. Lots of variety. Can’t live without it.”
“Dan...” She frowned as she felt that old, familiar pain twist her stomach into knots.
“Hey, what can I tell ya, babe? It’s a guy thing. A guy’s gotta have variety, Luce.” His eyes opened again and one corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile. “And that’s why, tomorrow... I’ll let you give me some of that, too.”
* * * *
Siobhan paced through the empty rooms of the cottage like a caged cat prowling for release. Aware, more and more with every instant that passed, of the tension vibrating in each tendon, nerve and muscle of her body. For weeks she’d been trying to ignore the way she felt, but that dance tonight! That had been the final straw. She couldn’t breathe or even think right, anymore. And she could no longer resist her body’s demands.
Oh, God, she prayed frantically, thrusting her hands through her hair, as though she could anchor herself, somehow. Oh, please, God, make it stop! Hadn’t she learned her lesson, yet? Hadn’t she sworn she’d never take the risk of getting involved with anyone, not ever again? She’d been down that road before and nearly lost her mind. She couldn’t face the thought of going through it all again. But even so,
There was something wrong with her, that’s what it was. The way she was feeling tonight wasn’t right. This searing heat – surely there wasn’t anything natural, or normal about it. The violence of it both thrilled and appalled her. She felt breathless, helpless against the internal onslaught.
She tried, one last time, to pull herself back from the edge, but it was useless. In an instant she was swept away. Dragged out beyond her depth. Lost. Far beyond the reaches of sense, or tenderness, or rational thought, she found herself pocketing her keys. Slipping on her vest. Opening her front door.
An icy rain poured down from skies which had earlier been clear. A cold wind howled. Another storm was raging – every bit as violent as the one inside her. She had only one, frail hope left. Perhaps the rain and the cold would quell the desire before she went too far. Perhaps she’d return to her senses in time.
But she doubted that would be the case. She had to be crazy to even consider doing what she was about to do. She knew that. But if she was already crazy... then maybe she had nothing more to lose, anyway.
She stepped off her porch and into the driving rain. A moment later, surrendering to the heat that blazed inside her, she was gone.
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* * * *
Chapter Fourteen
* * * *
Ryan put the bottle of spring water to his lips and drank it down in one long, uninterrupted series of swallows. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tossed the empty into the recycling bin beside the refrigerator. He’d been working out in his home gym since his return from the dinner nearly an hour earlier. The exercise had produced a pleasant tiredness in his muscles but done nothing to ease the aching rawness in his heart.
Yeah, like you’re really going to be devastated if you get turned down, she had taunted him earlier in the week. Why had that been so hard for her to believe? Did she really think him that much of a player?
He splashed some water from the kitchen sink on his face, using his T-shirt to blot up the moisture. He should just forget about her, he told himself once again. No woman was worth this much aggravation. And especially not this woman. When she wasn’t treating him like a kid or an invalid she was playing him for a fool, like she had again tonight. A careless, heartless, insensitive fool, at that.
But not always, a tiny voice insisted on reminding him. And that was at the root of the problem. Because there were moments these last couple of weeks when for all her seeming indifference, he’d caught her looking at him as if he were the last man on earth. Times when she seemed to hang on his every word as if he were not just the last, but also the most fascinating man this old planet had ever seen. Heady stuff. And he’d sucked it right up.
Which ought to teach him he guessed about the dangers of succumbing to flattery.
He’d been so sure of having her. So confident of his own appeal. Now what the hell was he supposed to do? He leaned his hands on the cold granite of the counter top as he thought about it. Come Monday morning, did he just show up at the center as if nothing had happened? Pretend that he could live with the idea of their just being friends?
Could he live with it?
He wondered about that, too. Which would be less painful? To hang around there waiting on whatever scraps she’d toss his way. Or to stay here, alone, and obsess about the way her eyes had sparkled, how she’d shimmered in his arms tonight – for just an instant.
Obsessed.
That was the problem, all right. He’d allowed her to become an obsession, and now he was paying the price for it. It had been his problem more times than he cared to remember. And every time he forgot that, every time he chose to ignore the warnings, it tripped him up again. But somehow... somehow he couldn’t ever remember it being quite so painful before.
And he was still too fucking crippled to throw himself into something else to ease the pain!
The doorbell rang as he was on his way back into the bedroom. Now what? He turned and headed for his front door. It was too late in the evening for it to be good news – even if that wasn’t already too much to hope for on a night like this.
He stabbed at the intercom button impatiently. “Yeah?”
“Ryan? It’s me. Can I come up?” Her voice sounded breathless, as though she’d been running. Shit. He closed his eyes in irritation, leaned his head against the wall. He didn’t need this.
He hit the talk button once again. “What d’you want, Siobhan?”
There was a moment’s silence, and then, “Ryan? I really need to see you. Can’t you—”
“It’s kind of late right now. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”
“Ryan, please. I— It’s raining out here, and—”
“So? You didn’t walk here, did you?” But even as he said it, he knew what her answer would be.
“Well, yes, actually. I— I did.”
Oh, fuck. He jammed his thumb hard on the button that would unlock the outside door. How great was this? She
’d be wet and she’d be cold and he’d have no choice but to get out his jeep and drive her home. Which was just what his leg needed now. Not to mention how much he was looking forward to being trapped with her in such close quarters.
He opened the apartment door and leaned in the doorway. Arms crossed over his chest, he watched as she made the long walk from the elevator to his door. He was wearing his coldest, most intimidating look. His ‘cop face’ as he’d heard Scout call it, when she’d teased Nick about a similar expression earlier that evening.
Oh, Christ. She hadn’t even dressed for the weather. Disgust made him scowl even harder. She was wearing her fleece vest over a thermal top and a pair of leggings, and running shoes that squelched loudly on the carpeted floor. She was wet and shivering and she looked like a drowned rat. He wanted her anyway.
“What are you doing here, Siobhan?” he asked, when she got closer.
“I wanted to see you?” It was a question, not an answer. It made him wonder if she even knew what she’d come here for.
“All right.” He straightened away from the doorframe and gazed down at her sardonically. “So, now you’ve seen me.”
She blinked rapidly several times and a wash of color stained her cheeks. “Can I come in, please?” she asked again, even more quietly than before.
He stared at her for a moment longer and then he sighed in surrender. “Sure. Why not?” Turning, he led the way back into the apartment.
“Take your shoes off,” he ordered over his shoulder. Not looking back. “And you might as well leave the door open. That might save you a few minutes when you’re running out of here later on.”
He went back into the kitchen and poured himself a small glass of scotch. A moment later he heard the door close quietly and then the sound of her bare feet as she padded towards the kitchen. He poured out a second glass, handing it to her when she came up beside him.
“Here.”
“I don’t want—” she began, but he cut her off.
“I don’t care if you want it. If you’re as cold as you look, you need something to warm you up. And I don’t feel like making you tea. So drink it.”
She drank it down quickly and then slid the glass back onto the counter top. He studied her face for a moment. “Okay,” he said, a little more gently than before. “Let’s try this again, shall we? What’s going on? Why are you here?”
She just looked at him. Her stormy eyes were glazed with heat, heavy with desire, dark as sin. She looked at him the same way she’d looked at him earlier tonight. Right before he’d kissed her. When they were dancing together in the cave.
He felt every muscle in his body clench harder than a fist as he remembered the feel of her body pressed against his own. Just moments before she’d pushed him away. Oh, hell, no. His body was already beginning to throb and ache with desire. Not again. Not now. No fucking way.
He shook his head. “I can’t keep doing this with you, Siobhan. One minute I’m thinking you want me, and the next I’m watching you run away. I won’t put myself through that again. It’s too much to ask.”
“I’m not... running... anywhere,” she answered, swallowing hard as she struggled to get the words out. “Not tonight.”
He put his own glass down carefully on the counter. Put his hands on her arms. And swore at the cold which was pouring off of her. “Oh, Jesus! Shit, your skin’s like ice. Why didn’t you say something?” He grabbed her by the arm. “C’mon, we gotta get these wet clothes off, before you freeze to death.”
He drew her over to the fireplace, reaching out to flip the switch that would ignite the gas. Then pulling her down with him onto the thick fleece of the hearthrug. She knelt in front of him, not moving, scarcely seeming to breathe. Shit. It looked like he was going to have to do everything for her. He pushed aside a faint feeling of annoyance, as he quickly slid the vest down her arms and tossed it aside.
“Lift up,” he said, reaching for the hem of her sodden shirt. She lifted her arms and he pulled the shirt over her head. And then he stopped, his breath coming harder as he stared at her. Beneath the wet shirt, she wore nothing at all.
She shook back the hair that had fallen in her eyes and slowly lowered her arms to her sides. The muscles in her throat worked furiously for a moment; other than that she was motionless. Her wet skin gleamed in the firelight like white marble, veined in blue. With just the tips of her breasts, already hardened by the cold, tinged a pale, rosy peach.
Before he could stop himself he was running his hands lightly up her arms and across her shoulders. Then trailing them, fingers spread wide, down over her chest. “You are just... so... beautiful,” he murmured as he briefly caressed her breasts. He slid his hands to her back and drew her closer, kissing her softly.
He anchored her against him with one arm tight around her waist and quickly shoved her leggings down over her hips; taking her panties with them, pushing both of them as far as her knees. And talking all the while.
“I didn’t know what to think, you know. When you left me like that, in the cave.” He slid his hand back up the bare length of her thigh. Slowly. Savoring the sleek smoothness of her muscles, the silk of her skin. His hands closed around her ass and squeezed. She gasped, her fingers tightening on his arms. He felt the violent shudder that ran through her as he tilted her hips into his and an answering blast of heat exploded inside him, making it hard to breathe. “And then earlier, when I came back and found you dancing—” he pulled back a little to look at her. “Were you trying to make me jealous by dancing with that guy?”
“What?” She looked at him, startled. “No. Of course I wasn’t.”
“I was though.” He sighed as he remembered the fury that had propelled him across the dance floor. He pushed her hair back from her face. His hand twisted in the wet strands. Gently, he tugged her head back so that he could kiss her neck and run his tongue along the length of her throat. “I wanted you so much and— God, you’ve been driving me crazy, d’you know that? All evening long. Sitting next to you. Watching you. I thought I’d go nuts.”
“I know,” she murmured softly.
He froze. Was that why she’d come here? He felt as though a glacier had just settled in his chest. She’d come out of pity?
“Is that what this is about?” he demanded, all but pushing her away. “You’re here tonight because you feel sorry for me?”
“What?” She blinked at him. “No! Ryan, of course that’s not why. I... I’m here because... because I want you, too.”
“Yeah, right.” He wasn’t buying it. He frowned at her in helpless fury; wanting her, needing her and – almost – hating her, all at the same time. He couldn’t believe what a fool she was making of him. Again! “And you just figured this out in the last half hour, huh? Man, that’s one helluva coincidence.”
She looked away from him, swallowing hard. “No, not really. I think I’ve wanted you since last September. I’ve just... I’ve been trying to fight it.”
He turned her face back to him. Looked into her eyes; saw the heat and the pain and the indecision there. And finally he believed her.
“Bad idea,” he growled against her lips as he pulled her down to lie on the rug. He shoved her pants down over her feet and then buried his face in her neck again. His hands roamed over her body, desperate to explore every last inch of her.
“Ryan,” she whispered his name; her voice so thick with desire, the words sounded as though they’d been coated in syrup. “Ryan, wait. Please, Ryan – stop.”
He froze again. “Siobhan?” He lifted himself away from her, his heart pounding so hard he thought his chest might explode. She’d said she wouldn’t run from him tonight. She’d as good as promised it. She couldn’t really mean to stop this now... could she?
She tugged at his shirt. “Take off your clothes.”
He sat back, smiling in relief, as he found he could breathe again. “Have I ever mentioned that I really love a woman who knows how to take charge of a situation?” he asked
, as he reached behind his back to peel his shirt over his head.
Siobhan shook her head, her laugh dying in her throat as she watched him undress. Oh, God. She stared at him greedily. He’s gorgeous. Even in the heart of winter, his skin was golden. It gleamed in the firelight. And the hair that covered his chest was gold, as well. He was so bright and so beautiful. And he was all hers. At least for tonight. Already her hands were itching to touch him.
Just as he was about to remove his pants, he paused. “Oh, shit. Hang on a minute. I’ll be right back. Almost forgot. I’ve got to get—”
She put out a hand to stop him. “Pocket of my vest,” she told him, blushing at the surprised speculation on his face. But why should he be surprised? He must have figured out that this was why she’d come here tonight. Neither of them were virgins. He should have known she wouldn’t have come unprepared.
He smiled even brighter than before when he’d unzipped her pocket and found the condoms she’d placed there. “Oh, man.” He chuckled. “I really love a woman who knows how to take charge of a situation.”
Still shivering, she watched him remove his pants, moving carefully, to avoid putting any pressure on his wounded leg. Love. He was using that word an awful lot tonight. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it. But that seemed to make no difference. Because every time he said it, it went straight to her heart, just the same.
And what would it hurt anyway, to indulge in the fantasy that they really were lovers? As long as she remembered the truth. How could it hurt to pretend – for just one night – that they could ever be anything more to each other than two consenting adults. Two friends, even. With needs they could help each other assuage?
He pulled his pants down his leg and she stifled the gasp that rose up her throat when she saw the scar there. Struggling to hide the shock in her eyes, when he glanced at her face. No wonder it bothered him so much. Her heart ached for him.
