One Night At A Time

by Christa Conan

  She smiled. He turned the tables quickly, though, stroking the inside of her thigh, encouraging her to open her legs. Then he found her warmth. She arched, lifting her hips from the bed and tossing her head to the side. He continued his motions, driving her insane. She wanted more, wanted him.

  “No second thoughts?”

  “No second thoughts.”

  He grinned cockily. For an instant, he left her, and she heard the sound of the small package being ripped open. He returned in only a few seconds; continuing to caress her, arousing her to heights she’d never reached before.

  He moved between her legs, poised at her entrance. He supported his weight on his elbows, then lowered his head and took her mouth. She surrendered. She’d longed for this moment her entire life, wanted to be made love to as if she were important, cared for.

  Instinctively she lifted her hips to meet him. His tongue filled her with heat, obliterating all thought. Slowly he entered her, penetrating deeper, and she whimpered at the sharp pain.

  Doug froze. “What the—?”

  Her eyes opened, and she met the accusation in his stare, the tone of betrayal in his voice, that vanquished all traces of tenderness.

  “Damn it, you’re a virgin.”

  She swallowed deeply and tightened her hands on his shoulders. “It...it’s okay,” she said, fighting the fog of confusion. She’d been so ready, so willing.

  He eased away from her and turned onto his side. She stifled a moan, her insides throbbing, and anguish tore at her heart.

  “It’s not like it’s a disease,” she said, trying desperately to make light of the situation, the way he usually did. But instead of his eyes lightening, they darkened another notch. Arielle trembled from the absence of his heat and the force of his anger.

  “For crying out loud, why didn’t you say something?”

  “I didn’t want to.”

  “You didn’t want to?” he echoed.

  “It’s my body, my choice.”

  “I can’t do this to you, Arielle. We can’t do this.”

  “I asked you to make love to me, Doug. I’m a big girl.” She reached for a sheet and drew it over her, huddling in it as if it could offer protection, as if it might shield her heart. “What difference does it make?”

  Even in the room’s dimness, she saw the spark of frustration that spiked in his eyes. He dragged his hand into his hair. “What difference does it make?” he repeated incredulously.

  “I trust you,” she whispered, knowing he wouldn’t settle for anything less than complete honesty. “I want my first time to be with you.”

  He sighed. “No, you don’t”

  “Don’t tell me what I think or how I feel,” she said, sitting up and dragging the sheet with her.

  “Arielle, do you always act first, then think later?”

  “No. Usually I’m very rational and reserved.” Tears clogged her throat as all the horror of the past weeks closed in on her. “But I’m tired of living for tomorrow. I need to live for today.” She struggled for a breath. “I’ve learned that tomorrow isn’t a guarantee. Tomorrow may never come.”

  She held out her hand. “Don’t you understand that? I want you to make love to me. I didn’t tell you because I knew your sense of justice would force you to try and talk me out of it. I don’t want to be talked out of it. I want to live. And feel.” She paused. “And if we don’t survive this, I don’t want to die never having been held, never having experienced this.”

  His low response, a single word, wept with earthiness.

  “Why me, Arielle? Why me?”

  She stopped shy of telling the complete truth when she added, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

  “Don’t. I’m no hero. I can’t live up to the image you have of me.”

  “I’m not asking you to live up to anything. I have no false illusions. We’re both human beings, nothing more.”

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  Her heart aching, she finally finished, “I’m not asking for anything in return. I just want to be in your arms.”

  She worried her lip, wondering whether she’d said too much. Outside, the wind howled, slapping branches against the windowpane and driving snow against the house’s exterior.

  In reaction, she shivered. Silence grew, and modesty became secondary to his rejection of her.

  Catching a sob in her throat, Arielle flung back the sheet, scooting to the edge of the bed. She paused when she heard his softly spoken command.

  “Come here.”

  In his tone, there was a mix of acceptance and...regret? Dear Lord, what was she doing?

  “Arielle, look at me.”

  Wants and needs battled with logic and common sense. Reluctantly she lifted her gaze from the floor to glance over her shoulder, denial forming her lips.

  The words froze in her throat as he reached out to her, his eyes warm and unwavering. She hesitated the span of one heartbeat, then another. Her nipples hardened once more. A single glance from him uncurled tendrils of desire that heated her lower body, made her ache, made her want.

  She reached out to take his hand, locking her fingers with his.

  Lying beside him, he whispered in her ear.

  “Relax,” he murmured, placing a kiss at her temple.

  He’d surely asked the impossible.

  Leaning over her, he kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her chin. He trailed lower and lower, and her back arched with each inch he covered. He stopped barely above the juncture of her thighs, lifting his head and making her cry out.

  For a few seconds, he left her. Then she squealed when she felt him touch his tongue to the inside of her ankle. He kissed her calf, her knee, and then, when she tried to draw her thighs together, he lifted one of her legs and draped it over his shoulder.

  “Doug, I...”

  “You wanted to live, Ariefle.”

  Her head tossed on the pillow, and her hands reached through air, seeking to find him.

  “You wanted to feel.”

  She couldn’t possibly have meant it. There was no way she could stand the exquisite torture, the heat flowing through her.

  “Let me do this for you.”

  Gently he nipped at the tender skin, and her indignant reaction gave him the access he sought. His breath warmed her, even as the thrill of the forbidden seemed to snake through her.

  He found her most sensitive spot, and she dug her nails into the mattress beneath her. He flicked his tongue over her, leaving moisture and neediness behind.

  A moan tore from her throat when he reached up and, with his hands, cradled her breasts. Her head swam, and the earth slipped on its axis. She heard the thunder of her pulse, inhaled the heady aroma of their readiness and struggled for survival.

  She hadn’t known what she’d asked for, hadn’t realized she’d asked to be swept away, to yearn with such hunger and thirst with such intensity.

  His tongue tantalized again, leaving her trembling as though she were hanging by a thread. “Stop, please, Doug, I feel...”

  “How?” he asked against her. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I...I’m....” One heel sank into the mattress, while her other leg sought balance against the slickened surface of his back.

  She struggled to open her eyes, only to fail, flailing through a blackness broken only by vivid shots of bright light.

  “Let go,” he whispered, his breath feathering across her and driving her mad with the sensual onslaught.

  “Take it, Arielle, reach for it.”

  Her nipples throbbed, then, as if heeding unspoken knowledge, his fingers closed around the tightened peaks. Perspiration trickled down her back as he encouraged her with relentless determination. She wanted it...him....

  His thumbnails arced across her sensitive nipples, and she shuddered, calling out his name.

  Emotion and sensation built, and Doug pushed her closer and closer to oblivion. Nothing mattered, right here and now, except Doug
. The threat and the horrible sense of reality that rested beyond the front door faded.

  Arielle had never felt more alive than she did at this very moment. She’d been right to wait, she knew...right to give herself to someone she cared so deeply for...right to love the man she made love with.

  With a searing intensity, the darkness shattered with flaming energy as sensation after incredible sensation rocked through her.

  . Reality slowly returned. She heard the faint ticking of Doug’s watch and became aware of the coolness of the temperature, the slickness of their bodies, the fact that Doug gently cradled her in his arms, offering himself as protection against the bite of coldness. More, she became aware of the look of concern and question on his face.

  “You all right?”

  She turned slightly toward him, reeling from their lovemaking, reeling from the knowledge that she’d finally had the courage to admit something to herself.

  She loved Doug.

  She loved him.

  Yet the knowledge was tempered by pain. She had to keep it quiet, couldn’t blurt out a confession. She’d promised she wanted nothing from him.

  “Arielle.”

  “I...” She fought to find her voice. Dizziness slowly receded, and the room no longer spun around her. All her body sang with fulfillment, with the realization of her love. “I’m wonderful.”

  At her words, he grinned triumphantly—an expression of pure male satisfaction.

  Still, she knew he had cared for her without taking in return. “But...”

  “But?” he said into the silence.

  Shyness no longer had a place between them, yet that was exactly what she was experiencing. “What about you? I mean, you didn’t, we didn’t actually, you know...” Words failed her under a cloud of embarrassment.

  “We’re not finished yet.”

  She trembled when she saw intent in his eyes. Even the dimness of the overhead bulb couldn’t diminish the spark in his eyes.

  “I’m going to let you lead, Arielle. We’ll do as much as you feel comfortable with.... We can stop at any time.”

  She nodded. Maneuvering, he feathered his fingers into her hair. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

  “You won’t.”

  “You’re right, not if you’re in control.”

  Holding her, he moved so that he lay beneath her, with her legs straddling his body. “Doug?”

  “We’ll do this at your pace.”

  Her knees rested on the sheet, her feet curved into the mattress. She placed her palms on his chest, marveling at the coarse texture of his chest hair beneath her hands. For a few seconds, she admired his body, the strength of his biceps, the lean power of his shoulders.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” he said, the words hoarse and strained.

  She drew a shallow breath, holding it for a few seconds. Then he slid against her, and she felt the tip of him.

  Biting down on her bottom lip, she lowered herself slightly, hesitation battling desire. But her moisture made his entrance easier. By small measures, he filled her, stretching her, and she sucked in a breath. Gingerly, then, she wiggled down a bit farther.

  Doug’s groan made her look down at him. “Am I hurting you?” she asked.

  “Hell, no.”

  She moved again until a pain cramped through her. She dug her knees into the mattress at his sides, lifting herself a bit

  He wrapped his hands around her waist, holding her steady.

  “You said it was okay to do this at my pace.”

  “And we will,” he said, gritting his teeth.

  He’d closed his eyes, and Arielle knew enough to realize that holding on took all his self-control. Clamping her back teeth together, she thrust herself down. Pain ripped through her, and tears stung her eyes. He filled her uncomfortably, and she ached to pull herself away. When she started to move, Doug tightened his grip, holding her in place.

  “Give it a second.”

  She nodded, against her better judgment.

  “Try and relax,” he said.

  “I am relaxed.”

  “Then take your nails out of my skin.”

  She tried, then tried again. As the seconds passed, the pain inside her receded. Other sensations bombarded her instead, the way their bodies joined, her hips around his, her hands on his skin, the budding of her nipples, the way her buttocks rested against his pelvis.

  This was about so much more than sex, she knew. It was about trust and belief. For her, it was about passion, honesty, and... The word stalled in her mind. For her, it was about love. She knew it completely.

  “I’m okay,” she told him, the lie covering up the realization she didn’t have the courage to contemplate.

  “That makes one of us.”

  Their gazes met.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Arielle nodded, then lifted herself slightly, Doug’s hands helping her. She eased back down, meeting his instinctive surge upward. Settling just for a second, she stroked upward, and was rewarded by the sight of him closing his eyes, much as she had earlier. She continued the motions, gently, getting used to the feel of him.

  Each movement brought her closer to awareness, and the feelings she’d experienced previously returned. Ribbons of recognition fluttered through her. Doug reached up, cupping her breasts, making her nipples lengthen and goose bumps tease her skin.

  By unspoken accord, their rhythm changed. The soft, sensual motions were replaced by longer, frantic ones. Her body dampened again, and she clung to him, the rocking of her thighs encouraging him the way he’d earlier encouraged her.

  She saw his pulse ticking near his temple, felt a change in him where she rode him. Then she no longer noticed anything, as the need reached for her. Her eyes fluttered closed and her head tipped backward, her hair spilling down her bare back.

  He reached for her shoulders, pushing her down as he surged up. She felt him throb, and at that exact moment, release ripped from her core, the force of the joining more powerful than what he’d given her earlier.

  Time ticked by, with her barely noticing its passing.

  Slowly she opened her eyes, to find Doug looking at her. He still cradled the weight of her breasts in his hands, still filled her.

  Unaccountably, in the light of the aftermath, she felt a tinge of awkwardness. She hadn’t known just how much she cared for Doug, hadn’t realized that not only had she been saving herself, she’d been saving her love. “We survived,” she said quietly, hoping her voice didn’t betray the feelings that were welling up inside her.

  “Maybe we could get T-shirts made.”

  She appreciated the light response. With a half smile, one that couldn’t hide the ache that accompanied her dawning understanding, she said, “I don’t even want to know what they’d say.”

  He smiled then, releasing his hold on her to take her by the shoulders and draw her down against him. “Sure you’re okay? You’re not hurt?”

  “I’ve never been better.” Physically, at least. Emotionally was another story.

  All her life she’d dreamed of falling in love, of having a family of her own. She’d spent slumber parties giggling about the boys in high school, spent hours gossiping over coffee in college. She’d even believed herself in love, until talk of a home and family splintered her picket-fence dreams.

  A sigh escaped before she could stop it.

  Doug adjusted their positions, gently rolling from beneath her and pulling her against him. He stroked his finger across her damp lashes. I

  “Regrets?”

  “No.” She shook her head. Then she took a leap of trust by confiding, “I’m just scared that I’ll never get to experience this again.”

  “You will. I promise.”

  He kissed her then, offering so much hope, hope that her heart clung to.

  Doug pulled her into the security of his arms, protectively wrapping himself around her. She rested her head against his chest, determined to live each second to its fullest. She�
�d gained nothing by always holding back, but she was learning that loving was the greatest risk of all.

  Doug had been called a lot of things in his life. Coward hadn’t been among them. Until tonight. Until Arielle.

  He poured a mug of coffee from the half-empty carafe and stared into its depths. The moon stood silent sentry in the sky, stars still twinkled overhead. Along with the frigid temperatures, the occasional chirp of a bird promised dawn. And he hadn’t slept for five minutes.

  She’d moved but not awakened when he untangled himself from her and climbed out of bed. He’d leaned over and placed a light kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the freshness of the shampoo she’d used, some sort of fruit blossom this time. The scent of her, the feel of her, her trust and sweet abandon, all conspired to make him forget reason, to want to slip back in beside her...inside her.

  Doug gulped a drag of coffee, unlightened and unsugared. At the moment, he preferred it that way.

  He needed something bitter in his gut to replace the sweetness of Arielle. Who’d have figured her image would saunter across his mind as soon as he closed his eyes? Who’d have figured a woman might mean more than a quick release, and just who in the hell would have figured it would be her?

  Dragging a hand across the nighttime shadow on his face, he exhaled. He’d had sex plenty of times, made love with Kerry, but even that hadn’t reached the power he’d found with Arielle.

  She reached deep inside him, tapped into a place he’d kept under tighter security than the Secret Service kept over the president. Bullets occasionally found a president, but until now, no one had found Doug’s heart.

  He’d sworn never to get involved again. Then she’d looked at him with huge eyes, asking him to make love to her. He’d believed he could separate the act from the emotion, just as he had countless other times. When he discovered the precious gift she offered to him, he should have known the cost to himself...it was more than a trip to the Bahamas, more than the loss of a vacation.

  And, damn it all, he wouldn’t trade half a night with her for half a year in the Bahamas.

  He drained the mug, slamming the stoneware onto the countertop. The relationship could go no farther, no deeper. They were both in too deep already. Emotional waters were murky, dangerous, and he had no desire to be another fatal statistic.