More amused than angry, more jumpy than afraid of him being there, she said, “I’m not talking to you anymore tonight.” She opened a cupboard and hauled out the thin duvet and two pillows she used in winter—and when she holed up down here. “There.” She dropped them on top of him. “Sweet dreams.”
Her heart pounded in her throat now and she felt sick. In the few seconds she watched him, he didn’t move a muscle under the pile of bedding.
“Good, then,” she said, and pounded upstairs. “I hope you get rug burns.”
Chapter 16
Rain and thunder woke him up.
Drops glittered on the windows, slapped harder and faster until they ran together in a wash. The thunder wasn’t too far off.
He could see the clock on the microwave—3:40. Hardly any sleep. He hoped Bleu wouldn’t be woken up by the cacophony.
Roche pushed up to his elbows and smiled slightly. She might not have believed him, but this wasn’t the first time he’d slept on a carpet. Tonight, he preferred it to that five-star hotel.
What if she was afraid of thunder and lightning? A lot of people were, particularly if they suffered from panic attacks or were simply overly fearful and sensitive. He thought Bleu was highly sensitive, not an easy condition to control without a lot of work.
Thunder rolled, and rolled.
Seconds later lightning split the sky, from as far as he could see into the heavens, to the land. It made its cut like the scar from a jagged blade.
He got a quick image of the wound in Jim Zachary’s neck. Bleu would see that vividly for longer than he would.
The crackling faded away, and the rain sounded louder.
Roche got up and took the pillows and coverlet with him. He went to the bottom of the stairs, dropped to his knees and drew the blanket around him.
Dwelling on the deepest reason for his being there disturbed him—confident sophisticate that he was…Was Bleu the kind of challenge that aroused his hunter instincts? He’d never thought of himself as the conqueror type!
He lay down, pulled the pillow beneath his head, glanced up and started.
“Bleu,” he said, and sat up again. “What are you doing?”
She lay curled up on the top step, and he could see that her eyes were open.
“Go to sleep,” she said and rolled over, showing him her back.
If he went up there, he would be taking advantage of her. If she let him go to her, it would be out of her need for comfort.
Could he comfort her? Could he be near her and not test to see if she would respond to him?
He lay down again and closed his eyes.
Shit, if she fell asleep and rolled over again, she’d fall down the stairs.
Scuffling followed and he opened one eye a little.
Bleu looked down at him again. She put a hand under her cheek and watched him.
“Don’t panic,” he said. “I’m getting up. If you think you can manage not to freak out, I’ll come up there and you can get back in bed. I like being on the floor, and one spot is as good as another.”
“I’m going to be embarrassed over this for the rest of my life,” Bleu said. “Please, go home now.”
“Sure, and find out tomorrow how you fell down here and broke your neck.”
“You’re superstitious,” she said.
“Huh?” He’d never been accused of that before.
“You’re afraid if you leave me, something will happen and then you’ll have to live with all the ‘what ifs.’ Mostly, ‘What if I’d stayed—it wouldn’t have happened.’”
He thought about it. “There’s some of that. Look, I could sit outside in my car, if it’ll make you feel better.”
“It won’t.”
“Okay, put up with me till morning and tomorrow I’ll talk to Spike about a twenty-four-hour surveillance setup. He can help us find the right people for that.”
She sat up again. “I can’t afford that sort of thing and, before you offer to pay for it, I would never let you.” After a pause, she said, “You are one terrific man. And I hope you don’t have rug burns. That was a stupid thing to say.”
“If you said it, it was. I didn’t hear you.”
Bleu pulled her legs beneath her. Coming off as immature irked her, but some things were more than hard to overcome.
“Roche?” She would get past this irrational suspicion of all men. “It’s nice to have you here. I know I’m safer with you.” A huge breath didn’t calm her down. “If you’re comfortable with the idea, why don’t you come up here and lie down? I’m going to feel even worse tomorrow, if you haven’t slept all night. I just don’t want you on the floor anymore—it’s awful.”
Roche thought about it for a long time. He hadn’t been invited because she was ready for him to make love to her, just to sleep. Lying with her would be so nice, but he wasn’t completely sure of his iron control.
“You don’t have to come up,” she said. His silence told her he didn’t want to accept her invitation. How awful.
“Shall I bring this bedding?”
Rational thought abandoned Bleu. “Um…a pillow.”
By the time he reached the top, she stood beside a mattress on the floor. Even in the gloom, he could see how wide her eyes were.
Sure he could be close to her and not turn into an animal. He breathed through his nose.
He had always chosen his partners carefully. No fragile flowers in that bunch. He couldn’t control his thoughts of how it would be to share hot nights, and days, with Bleu.
Downstairs, that’s where he should have stayed.
“Roche?” Bleu said softly.
“Uh-huh.”
“Nothing.”
“Where do you want me?” he said. Oh, hell, if only she really knew.
“Which side of the bed do you prefer?”
Something like a small scream sounded in his head. “Ladies first.” His nerves pounded. “You choose. I’ll take what’s left.” The mounting excitement would be a bear to control.
A diminutive figure, her hair catching speckles of light, Bleu went silently to the side of the bed nearest the window. She slid beneath a sheet on the mattress, wiggled and wriggled and pounded her pillow, then became utterly still.
Roche walked carefully to the vacant side and lowered himself to sit on the edge.
Bleu sighed. She tried to hold her breath, then made sure she breathed regularly.
Inch by inch, she pushed to a more central position on her portion.
Her stomach clenched, and she couldn’t make a muscle in her body relax.
Slowly, with the sheet over her face, she rolled onto her back, stretched out her legs and folded her hands on her tummy. Now she’d appear relaxed.
There were some patients out there, Roche thought, who were enjoying explosive sex lives because he had taught them how to pleasure a partner by putting his or her needs first. He could have all that. Sure, he could.
Wind joined the rain and a howl set up. The window panes rattled.
He heard Bleu sigh.
She’d stopped moving behind him, and the silence jostled at his eardrums. The only sound he heard clearly was his own very shallow breathing. Shortly, he’d find out if this development would make or break his hopes.
Roche put the pillow he’d carried upstairs on the bed, shucked his jeans and got in beside her. “We’re grownups,” he told her. “There’s nothing to feel anxious about. Relax, Bleu. I intend to.” Lying could become a habit…fast.
Bleu lay so still, she might have been dead. He slid his eyes sideways to look at her, a bump under the white sheet. God, she even looked like a corpse.
“Roche?”
He jumped. “Mm. You all right?”
“Great.” They lay, side by side, outstretched and unmoving with a few virginal inches of space between them. “We’ll both sleep better now.” Lying can be justified.
“I’ll feel safe.” She’d like to. His strong body gave her security, but “safe” would have
to be worked on.
He could tell she was holding too still. And she trembled lightly but steadily.
“I’m going to move,” he said. “Don’t jump and don’t run. For God’s sake, don’t run away. I don’t think I could take that.”
Carefully, he turned onto his side, facing her.
“I’m not going to run.” She could feel him watching her. “I don’t have anywhere to run to.”
Roche wished she hadn’t added that.
“Relax,” he said. “You’re stiff.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t blame you. If I were in bed with a maniac, I’d be stiff, too.”
She laughed, and his muscles softened a little. Once in a while, a gamble paid off.
“Glad I could amuse you,” he said.
Slowly, he smoothed her shoulder. Again and again, he swept from her neck to her wrist and back again.
Bleu didn’t make a sound.
From her wrist, he shifted his hand to her tummy, touching her lightly. “Let yourself go,” he said into her ear.
“We’re supposed to be sleeping,” she told him, fully aware that when she’d asked him up here, she’d been ready for a dangerous experiment. He wanted to make love to her and she wanted it, too. She just didn’t know if she could do it.
Roche rubbed circles on her belly. Layers of fabric separated him from her skin, but his hand might as well have been on her naked flesh.
Roche wanted to move down her legs, but it was too soon.
When he kissed her shoulder, then opened his mouth enough to damped her T-shirt and pajama top, she turned rigid again.
Why not try practicing what he preached? Take it slowly, build her pleasure, make it about her…and hope he could find satisfaction.
Thunder sounded again.
She shifted closer to him.
Roche inched downward in the bed slightly. Some things couldn’t be softened or hidden—not until they were ready.
He knew the difference between his feelings for women in the past and what was happening to him with Bleu.
It scared the hell out of him. Before, it had always been physical—a need to be met, then move on. Just smile and be grateful for the outlet. With Bleu, his mind, his brain, his emotions were involved. He cared about her feelings and how it would be for her if they were intimate—and afterward.
“You still okay?” he asked her. “Storms bother you, don’t they?” She felt incredible to him. He could settle for this for a long time if he had to.
“Sometimes.” In fact she enjoyed the thrill of realizing the weather’s force. “How do you think Cyrus would feel about us—like this?” she said.
“Jealous.”
She landed a pointed elbow in his side. “That’s not the way you talk about a priest.”
“The priest in question is a man in every sense of the word, if I ever saw one. I wouldn’t want to live with his pain.”
“It’s sad,” Bleu said. “I think he loves Madge and she loves him.”
“You won’t get any gold stars for that deduction,” he told her. “It’s obvious, and I hate it for both of them.”
Thunder rumbled overhead, and a moment later, lightning seemed to shoot directly at the window.
Bleu pulled the cover over her head and squirmed until her face rested in the hollow of Roche’s shoulder. Automatically, she raised a knee across his thighs.
Her breasts got heavy. The nipples burned. He kept on rubbing, sliding back and forth from hipbone to hipbone and occasionally squeezing her hip.
Swallowing, swallowing again, she grew hot. He was a hard man in every way.
The noise faded, and after several deep breaths, she made to move away again.
He held her where she was, and she became a statue.
“Comforting each other is no sin,” he told her. “I don’t know what happened to you in the past. I hope you’ll explain it one day. In the meantime, would you hate it if we spent a little time in each other’s arms?”
Would she? The answer was a no-brainer. Bleu’s throat felt as if a chunk of wood had been stuck there.
“I couldn’t hate being with you,” she said, wondering if he would hear her.
He did. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ve got a lot to find out about trusting and learning…. I want to learn to be what a woman needs. To be what you need.”
She swallowed and wondered if she could be what he needed. Oh, but he felt so good. Big, solid, warm and protective. She had never had any of those things.
“What are you thinking?” she said. “Why is it important to please me?”
“It just is. And you’re gentle—different from women I’ve known. You need to teach me to be gentle.”
She rested her head back on his shoulder and couldn’t believe she was here at all.
Roche pulled her into his arms. He smoothed the front of her neck, and her breastbone—again and again. He lulled her. With his other hand, he slipped just inside the bottom of her T-shirt and made soft circles with his palm. Bleu felt she was melting.
“I wouldn’t push you if you wanted to stop,” he said. “Do you believe me?”
“I guess so.”
“The instant you want me to, I’ll stop.”
She knew what he wanted. Michael had warned her that all men wanted it and they would be even rougher than he was. She shuddered, not knowing how that could be possible. He had been so rough. Once he came home very late and she’d been almost asleep. He’d stripped back the bedcovers, torn off her clothes and had sex, violently, with no finesse. Only minutes later, she landed on the floor, where he threw her before launching himself on top and beating her upper arms and body until she could scarcely move.
“What is it?” Roche kissed her ear and ran his tongue through the folds.
“An old memory,” she said. “I’m not going to think about it anymore.”
“Good. Try to copy what I do. I’m going to turn your back toward me. I’ll move a little, my hips, my waist. Spooning isn’t given enough credit. I want you to rock and roll with me in this bed, only we don’t want to wake the neighbors.”
While he spoke, he rotated her. How easily he put her body where he wanted it.
She stopped herself from saying she didn’t have any neighbors, and turned even hotter when she felt his pelvis against her bottom, pushing her forward, then his hand spreading low on her belly, pressing her to him as he rocked his lower body back.
Between her legs, she was wet at once. Wet and contracting.
He was hard, and this was no small man.
The rocking continued, still slow but with more insistence.
“Face me again?” he said, and she didn’t give herself time to think before twisting around.
Roche put his mouth against hers. Kissing. He kissed her, moved to flit his lips across hers, his face in one direction, then another, until she started to copy him.
The hardened tips of her breasts met his chest and the faint brushing seared her skin.
Her thighs molded to his, her belly to his, and the restrained undulation of his pelvis into hers amazed Bleu.
Effortlessly, he heated her to boiling.
“Bleu,” he said against her neck. “I care about you.”
She couldn’t respond.
“I don’t expect you to say anything,” he told her. “I’d like to feel your skin against mine—all over. If you can’t do that, say so. If you think you can but then you change your mind, fine.”
He had to feel her trembling. “I can,” she said and closed her eyes tight. She didn’t know how she should do what he asked.
“Here goes,” he said and pulled his T-shirt over his head.
She could see him looking at her and edged her top up a few inches. And a few more inches. Bleu exhaled and took the shirt off.
Now he might change, she thought. He could shout and tell her she was bad. He could hit out at her, bruise her skin where her clothes would hide the marks. Convulsively, she folded her arms ac
ross her breasts.
Roche took off his shorts.
Her breathing shallow, Bleu scrunched up to work off her pajama bottoms and panties. She pushed all of her clothes down inside the bed in case she needed to get them quickly.
“Now it’s trial by fire.” His voice had turned to that gravelly sound. “Come to me.”
Bleu’s face tingled. With one hand she tentatively rubbed his chest, threaded her fingers through the hair.
“A bit closer,” Roche said and slid his hands around her waist.
He didn’t need to be told how difficult this was for her. He could feel it. But if she didn’t want to be with him, she wouldn’t be and he held their future together in his hands.
He eased her rigid body tight against him. “You feel so good,” he told her.
Sliding his knees up to grip her hips on either side, he started to move their bodies as one. She reacted by shooting her arms around his neck and holding on. Her breasts flattened to his chest. Bleu gasped when he gently bent her backward, opening her mouth wide with his, grazing her teeth, then reversed the arch of their bodies by pulling her by the back of the neck until her face was above his, her back curved forward.
Bleu settled into his rhythm and had to breathe through her mouth when she felt him spring between her thighs, between the slickness there.
He was smooth, and hot, and hard, and every place his penis touched, her flesh answered.
“You okay?” he said, wrapping her body closer when she’d thought that wasn’t possible. “Can you put your leg on top of mine?”
“Yes,” she said. “Are you okay?”
She thought he chuckled but couldn’t be certain.
“I’m great,” he said.
Aware of how she opened herself to him, Bleu put her top leg over his, curled her knee over his hip.
“So sweet,” he said against her neck, and she felt how his hands weren’t as steady as they had been.
“I’m not going all the way inside you,” he said.
Her brain clamored and she thought her blood stopped flowing.
With one hand, he held his penis and slid it over her pelvic bone. Velvet and iron, he encountered her, rocked a small way into her, and slipped out.
Bleu wound her wrists together, ground bone on bone behind his neck.
Cypress Nights Page 14
