She raised her hands and continued loosening the braid. With a shake of her head, she tossed the freed strands over her shoulders. Part of her hair swept across the back of the sofa. He twisted one curl around his finger.
“I wish you’d told me.” His voice sounded husky.
“I was wrong not to.”
“I’ll admit that I could have spent more time with you,” he said slowly. “There were difficulties at the bank and with Dani and Ty, but I should have made the time. You were important to me. I never meant to scare you away.”
Perhaps it was her admission that freed him to confess his own secrets. She still couldn’t see his face or read his eyes, but suddenly that didn’t seem to matter.
“I know,” she said softly. “I was too young for you. I didn’t know at the time. It’s only now, looking back, that I see I was—”
“What?” he asked urgently. “Tell me.”
“A girl. A fool. You needed a woman, but I couldn’t be that.” It hurt to confess her shortcomings, she thought, surprised that after all this time it still mattered.
He swore. “You were all I ever wanted. Why can’t you believe that?”
“I was too afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of the sex.”
He bowed his head. “Now I’m the one who’s sorry. Jane, I had no right to—”
Without thinking, she scooted forward and pressed her hand against his mouth. “Don’t,” she whispered. “I wanted to please you. What I said the other day, about pushing me further than I’d wanted to go….” She shrugged. “I wanted you, too. Maybe not in the same way, but I needed the closeness and to feel you holding me. The rest of it, I’ll admit, didn’t thrill me…but never believe that you coerced me or hurt me. I came to your bed willingly, Adam Barrington. I loved you. There wasn’t any other choice.” When she finished her speech, she realized she still held her hand against his mouth. His firm lips moved slightly against her palm. She dropped her hand. “Sorry. I got carried away.”
But before she could pull back, he twisted his hand in her hair. “I like it when you get carried away.”
“Adam?”
“It’s the night,” he said softly, staring at her intently. “A time for secrets. Here’s mine. You drove me wild. So sweet and funny, so eager to please.”
She ducked her head. “You make me sound like a puppy.”
“No, just innocent. And beautiful. You stared at me as if I were the most—”
“Perfect man,” she whispered. “My fantasy come to life.”
Whatever had smoldered between them since her arrival burst into life. Her body leaned toward the flames, absorbing the heat that started another fire deep inside her. This wasn’t the time. They were dealing with problems that would only be complicated by a physical relationship between them. But she had to know. She had to find out if the time they had been apart had changed anything. She had to know if being a woman in heart and mind made it different.
“Never perfect,” he murmured, lowering his head closer to hers. “I had my share of flaws.”
“No. I won’t—”
He silenced her with his kiss. She’d wanted this, she thought, as his firm mouth pressed against hers. She’d wanted to be with him, just the two of them, in the dark, with no secrets between them. He continued to hold her hair, as if he were afraid she would try to leave. It was the farthest thing from her mind. Her hands crept up his arms and around his neck. She rubbed the hard strength of him, felt the ripple of his muscles as she kneaded his shoulders. Yes, she thought, letting her eyes drift shut. This is what she’d waited for.
He angled his head so their mouths met more fully. Lips pressed. She leaned forward, encouraging him to take more. His free hand rested on her bare shoulder. His thumb stroked in slow circles, singeing her skin with his heated touch. But still their kiss remained chaste.
She pulled back so that she could look at him. The darkness that had been so kind and allowed them to share their secrets now kept her from reading his expression. Did he want her? Was she looking for something that didn’t exist?
“Adam?”
“After you left, I tried to figure out what it had been that had drawn me to you. Was it your hair?” He cupped her face with both hands, then drew his fingers through the strands at her temples and fanned them over her shoulders. She felt the curls as they were drawn across her skin.
“Like silk,” he said quietly. “Or was it your smile?” His thumb swept across her lips. “Was it the shape of your mouth or the size or the way the edges curve up even when you’re not smiling?” He touched each corner with his index finger. “Was it your body? The gawky picture you made in high heels?”
She didn’t move as he ran his hands up her thighs to her hips. Heat flared wherever he touched, and turned her blood to fire.
“Did I want you because you had no idea about what you were doing to me?” he asked. “Was it the innocence?”
His hands moved up to her waist. She caught her breath but he didn’t reach farther to soothe the ache. Her already hard nipples strained against her lacy bra. Her breasts throbbed in time with her rapid heartbeat.
“Or was it here?” He returned his hands to her face. “Inside. Was it your mind? Why were you the one?”
The control slipped away. She felt it flow out of him and disappear into the night. They were lost, she realized. Lost in a cauldron of emotion. Past and present blurred. The grayness of time overlapped until what had been and what was now had no distinction. The flames continued to race through her, but with them came the pain. As the fire burned away layers of facades, she was left with the sharp edges of her soul.
“Hold me,” she whispered, feeling her eyes fill with tears. “Hold me tight.”
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her next to him. His heartbeat thundered in her ear. His breath fanned the hair that rested on her cheek. Without breaking their contact, he shifted on the sofa, sliding lower against the back corner, then easing her down until she nestled on top of him.
This felt right, she thought, loving the feel of his body against hers. His hard lines a contrast to her curves. Not even the sensation of his arousal pressing against her hip disturbed her. This was as it was supposed to have been.
“I don’t want to deal with the past anymore,” she said. “But I can’t seem to let it go.”
“Neither can I.”
She raised her head to look at him. “Help me. Let’s try to forget together.”
He stiffened. “Like this?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think that—”
“Don’t.” She shook her head. “Don’t think about it anymore. Please. You want me.” She rocked her hips and felt him strain against her.
“Tough to deny the obvious.”
“Then what is it?”
He stared at her. “How much of that girl remains? Are you doing this for me or for yourself?”
He wanted to know if she was still afraid, she realized. The stigma of what had happened nine years before stood between them, an almost uncrossable barrier of guilt and conscience.
She sat up and tossed her hair over her shoulder. When he moved his head to follow the movement, she did it again. Without saying a word, she rose and crossed to the parlor door, then closed it. The clicking of the lock sounded loud in the still room. Only their breathing filled the continuing silence.
She reached for the small floor lamp in the corner and flipped on the switch. The sudden light made her blink. The look on Adam’s face made her heart stop. Etched in the lines of his handsome face, desire and guilt battled for control. Everything else faded as the primal emotions raged inside him. She walked back to stand in front of the coffee table. He sat up straight on the sofa. She could tell him not to feel guilty about the past. He wouldn’t listen. Better to show him the truth. There had been a time when he had frightened her. With her naïveté, she hadn’t thought she could ask him to go slower. She wasn’t that c
hild anymore. She was a woman, with a woman’s need. She slipped her hands up through her hair and fanned it over her shoulders. Slowly, so that he couldn’t mistake her meaning, she reached for the first button of her dress. She never made it to the second.
He crossed the few feet between them and gathered her into his arms. His mouth slanted across hers, pressing, seeking, probing as if she were his only lifeline. She parted her lips to admit him and he pushed his tongue inside.
Her hands clutched at his shoulders and back. His hands pulled her closer. Their tongues mated, slipping together, circling, brushing back and forth, drawing sustenance from the contact. She slipped her fingers through his hair. The short strands teased the pads of her fingers. His hands slid down to her derriere and gently squeezed her curves. Fire licked through her. She strained to get closer, but he held their hips apart. She punished him by forming an O around his tongue and sucking gently. She felt more than heard the moan in his throat and instantly he ground his pelvis into hers.
The hard ridge of his desire pressed against her stomach. She raised on tiptoes to move it toward her needy center. He tore his lips away and took her ear lobe in his mouth. Even as he bent his knees to oblige her wish, he nibbled the sensitive skin.
The combination of sensations—his mouth trailing down her neck, his hands rubbing her derriere, his need rotating against the apex of her thighs—made her feel like screaming.
She spoke his name over and over again, as if the sound would save her from the coming storm. He raised his head and looked at her. She saw the question hovering in his eyes.
“Yes,” she said.
He straightened and reached for the front of her dress. His knuckles bumped her breasts as he worked the small buttons.
“Stupid design,” he muttered.
She reached under his hands and easily opened the front of his shirt. “You’re right.”
He stopped long enough to step out of his shoes and socks and pull the shirt free of his pants. She kicked off her sandals.
When he freed the last button, he drew the sundress off her shoulders. Jane felt a flash of concern. She’d grown up in the last nine years, but not out. Still, he’d known that before they got started here. She squared her shoulders and shrugged out of the dress. It paused at her hips. She gave a slight wiggle and it fell to the floor. Adam’s shirt joined her dress. But instead of looking at her body, he stared into her eyes.
“You still doubt yourself,” he said, tracing the line of her jaw from her ear to her chin. “Hasn’t anyone taught you that you are exactly right?”
She shook her head.
“Then they were fools.”
This was probably the time to tell him that there hadn’t been a lot of men to do the teaching. She’d dated some, in the nine years they’d been apart. Some of those dates had included heavy petting. But none of them had progressed to lovemaking. At the time she’d blamed it on lack of chemistry or dealing with a toddler or being busy with school. Now she wondered if it was because none of them was Adam.
He moved behind her. When she started to turn to face him again, he held her in place.
“Trust me,” he said.
He moved her hair off one shoulder. From the sweet spot behind her ear, down to her bra strap, he kissed her heated flesh. Shivers racked her body, and her skin puckered. He licked her shoulder, then moved back to gently bite her neck. Her breasts swelled. Her nipples, already hard and eager for his touch, jutted out even more. Her hands fluttered in front of her. She didn’t know where to put them. She started to reach behind her, but he pushed her away.
“Not yet,” he murmured. “Trust me.”
Did she have a choice?
He drew his hands around her waist, then up. She held her breath in anticipation. With one finger and his thumb, he released the front hook of her bra. The white lace drew back, only to catch on her nipples. The friction made her inhale sharply. He pulled at the straps until the garment slid down her arms and fell. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her back.
“Lean on me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to make your legs tremble and your body weak.”
That statement practically did the job for him, she thought as she sagged against him. His bare chest felt warm against her back. She rested her hands on his forearms and closed her eyes.
“Watch me,” he said, his mouth breathing the words into her ear. “Watch me touch you.”
She lowered her head to look.
His hands moved up and engulfed her breasts. His palms moved in slow circles, completely covering her. At last, she thought as pleasure shot through her body. It was as if each individual cell had screamed out at his touch. Her head lolled back on his shoulder.
He raised his hands until just his fingers touched her. They circled around and around moving closer to her nipples. Her eyes fluttered.
“Watch!” he commanded.
She did. Her nipples strained forward, eager for their own pleasure. Moisture surged between her legs. Her muscles trembled, as he had promised.
At last he brushed his fingertips across the tips of her breasts. She felt the lightning all the way down to her toes. Her grip on his forearms tightened, and she moaned. Again and again he caressed the puckered skin, making it harder and tighter. Her hips began to rotate in a dance of their own. Her knees threatened to buckle. Her hands longed to touch more of him. But she didn’t want him to stop.
“Adam,” she said breathily.
Moving quickly, so she didn’t have time to register exactly what he was doing, he turned her, then lowered her to the carpet. His shirt and her dress provided a barrier to the rug. Barely pausing to settle her, he continued to touch her breasts. The magic his fingers created made her strain toward him. Pressure built inside. No one had ever taken the time, she realized, to show her how sensitive her body could be.
He lowered his mouth to hers. Wanting to pleasure him, as she was being pleasured, she wrapped her arms around him and went on the attack. When his tongue would have found hers, she sought his out and battled him within his mouth. She traced the edges of his teeth, nipped the inner smoothness of his lips, then sucked on his tongue until he drew back to gasp for air.
And still his hands played with her breasts. At last, when she wondered how long she could endure the glory, he trailed his mouth down her chin and neck and across her chest. She drew in a breath and rose toward him. He pulled away his hands and looked at her.
“Perfect,” he said.
She blushed.
“Still the innocent?” he teased.
She didn’t answer. If only he knew.
He continued to moisten her skin as he moved closer to her breasts. At last, his mouth closed over one throbbing nipple. The damp heat caused her to jerk and her pelvis to rise toward his. Her hands clutched at him. He suckled her, then circled the beaded tip. Her other breast swelled in anticipation. He didn’t disappoint. As his hand continued the game his mouth had begun, he laved the other side with equal attention.
When she had no breath left, he lifted his head and smiled. She touched his face, the smooth-shaved cheeks, the straight nose, the firm mouth, still wet from his loving her. The rightness of their mating made her fearful of the future, but she pushed away the concerns. They were for later. This was her only point of sanity in a world gone mad.
“You make me tremble,” she said.
“As you do me.”
He drew her panties from her hips and peeled them off her legs. He had done this before, she remembered. Touched her there, before claiming her. It had been mildly pleasant. She was about to tell him he didn’t have to bother, when his finger slipped between her damp curls. He touched some secret spot and she jumped.
He grinned. “I guess that means you’re ready.”
“For what?”
He started to laugh, then saw she wasn’t kidding. His smile faded. “You’ve never had an orgasm.”
It wasn’t a q
uestion. They were adults. She was already naked. It shouldn’t have embarrassed her. It did. The heated flush began somewhere around her toes and climbed all the way to the top of her head.
“I can’t,” she whispered, turning her head away.
He lay down beside her on the rug and touched her hair. “Who told you that?”
“No one, but I know.”
“Have you tried?”
She closed her eyes. “I never did with you.”
“Thanks.”
His wry tone made her turn back to him. “It’s not your fault. I was—”
“Yeah, well, could we not talk about my lack of performance and get on with the rest of it?”
“I don’t want you to think it was your fault.”
His self-deprecating smile eased her embarrassment. “It was only the two of us, Jane. And you were the virgin. Whose fault was it?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. What about the other men?”
She pulled her hair over her shoulder and studied the ends. “I’ve done a few things but I never—”
“Had an orgasm?”
“Went all the way.”
“What?”
She swallowed. “I didn’t feel the need.”
“It’s been nine years.”
“I can count, too.”
“Jane?” He sounded confused.
“Don’t read more into it than it is. It just never felt right.”
“Does it feel right now?” He touched her breast. She gasped and arched her head back.
“Oh, yes.”
“Good.”
She wanted to wipe that self-satisfied male smirk off his face, but he continued to tease her breasts and it became more and more difficult to remember why.
He moved his head to her chest and trailed his fingers down her stomach. This time she was prepared for the jolt when he brushed that secret spot. She wasn’t prepared, however, for him to keep touching it. The contact created an aching pressure inside. She shifted her legs as if that would help her ease her need.
“Adam?” she asked, confused by what was happening inside. She needed him to stop. No, that wasn’t right. She needed him to never stop.
A Dad for Billie Page 18
