by Kylie Brant
"Because your face is flushed." He used the tip of his finger to trace across her cheekbones. "Right here." His finger trailed lower, until it rested against the pulse pounding at the base of her throat. "And your pulse is racing … here."
Jaida swallowed hard. It didn't seem fair that he was able to call forth her reaction to him so effortlessly. The she made the mistake of looking in his eyes again, and what she saw there scorched her.
Desire. Raw and unbridled, it simmered in his green gaze as it rested on her. Their eyes remained locked as his finger continued its liberties and wove a meandering path across her shoulder, and followed the narrow strap of her dress down to its neckline. Her breathing grew more labored as Trey traced an invisible line across the top of her breasts. Oxygen was in short supply when his finger dipped, for one leisurely moment, into the cleavage exposed.
He cupped her shoulders with his hands, enjoying the prickling sparks of electricity that jumped between them. "It's like fireworks going off beneath my hands every time I touch you," he said huskily. "You feel it, too, don't you, Jaida? You have from the first. That's why you pulled away from me that day in the meadow." She was trembling, and automatically he caressed her shoulders.
"Yes." Her response was little more than a whisper. She watched a satisfied smile tilt his lips, and he skated his hands slowly down her arms. It was frightening to be held like this, to feel the current skitter crazily between them. She tensed involuntarily, wondering for a moment if his touch would elicit another vision or bring her yet another peek into his feelings, his past. But nothing existed except the chemical reaction between the two of them. The sensations he was causing within her seemed too strong for anything else to interfere.
Beckoned by the open neck of his shirt, her hand moved of its own volition. It hovered timidly, until Trey rasped, "Touch me." He guided her hand inside his shirt, and her fingers curled in the crisp, dark hair on his chest. Exhilaration filled her at the shudder that escaped him then, warring with the sensuous wonder of touching him as she'd been longing to do. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt quickly, pulling the tails from his pants.
Unbidden, both her hands came up to explore his muscled chest, rubbing and kneading it rhythmically. His fingers went to the zipper hidden in the back of her dress. In the next moment he was dragging the narrow straps from her shoulders, freeing her breasts.
The dress hadn't allowed for a bra, and the air-conditioned air in the room was cool on her sensitized nipples. He watched them grow even tauter under his gaze, then his arms snaked around her and brought her into contact with his torso. He caught her gasp in his mouth.
Hungrily he kissed her, without the restraints he was usually so careful to keep in place. A woman like her should scare the hell out of a man like him. He'd lived his life with his guard raised, yet she could read him with a touch. He should have been running in the opposite direction, but the connection between them was too rare, too tempting, not to stay.
He lifted his head, desire clawing at him. The look of drugged wonder on her face did nothing for his control. "Do you remember what I told you the last time I kissed you?"
She blinked eyelids that seemed weighted. Yes, she remembered. She remembered everything about him. "You said when it was over…"
"We'd finish what was between us," he grated. "Now's the time, Jaida. If it's not what you want, too, this is your chance. Walk out that door, back to your room."
He must have thought he was giving her a choice, but she knew there really wasn't one at all. He had been right all along. The feelings between them were too strong to deny. She'd be a fool to believe that he felt anything but passion for her.
She'd be a bigger fool to walk away from it.
He waited, but she didn't move. She stood there, breasts bare, watching him with eyes that managed to look both anxious and beguiling. When she spoke, her soft drawl made her words seem even more provocative.
"I'm not going anywhere."
* * *
Chapter 13
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Jaida's words had Trey releasing a pent-up breath, one he hadn't been aware of holding. Then he drew her into his embrace again, not quite gently, and shuddered with the exquisite sensation of her skin touching his own. He wanted to believe that he hadn't been lying, that the choice had indeed been hers. But he'd spoken the truth that night in the cabin. This thing between them was unavoidable.
Her gasp distracted him then, as she reacted to the sparks leaping between them. He knew without a doubt that she felt them, too, that she always had. This woman had been entwined in his life since the first day in the meadow, the first time that he had touched her. Their fates had been sealed irrevocably from that day, as had this night. This long-awaited night.
Impatiently he tugged at her dress, which had draped at her hips. His movement sent the dress to form a pool at her feet. He released the pins from her hair, five of them, and her hair tumbled over her shoulders.
He surveyed her then through slitted eyes. With that pale hair and light skin, she looked like an ice princess, all haughty and cool. That appearance was in direct contrast with her personality, he knew, and the contradiction was driving him crazy.
Deliberately, he traced a finger down one breast to encircle the hardened nipple with a feather-light touch. Primitive satisfaction filled him as he watched her shiver and gasp. It was his nature to retain control of every situation, to be unwilling to relinquish it. Now, at this moment, he had no doubt of his capability to do just that.
Jaida forced her eyes open, when they wanted nothing more than to remain closed in a helpless response to his touch. What she saw when she opened them almost made her weep.
Desire, the strength of which weakened her knees, was evident on Trey's face. But so was a primordial male satisfaction. She knew he was firmly in control of his emotions, and she had a sudden urge to flee. Even as his mouth went to her neck, she was aware of being at a great disadvantage. He was still wearing his pants and shirt. The clothing represented, to her, the guard he kept over his own emotions. Others would be stripped of their defenses, appear vulnerable, but not Trey. Never Trey. And though she knew better than most what made the man the way he was, his continued defenses now made her angry in a way she didn't totally comprehend.
The cord along her neck was nibbled, and she flinched slightly at the stinging kisses he dropped there, to be soothed immediately with his tongue. Her eyes fluttered to half-mast and she became aware of the care he was taking to avoid touching her anywhere else. Despairingly she wondered if making love to her was something he could do without reciprocating any answering emotion other than need. She didn't question if it was love she felt for Trey; love seemed a far too weak description for the flood of emotion that overwhelmed her each time she felt his touch. She only questioned how fate could be so cruel as to give this man such power over her emotions, without providing her with a like control over his.
He bracketed her body, resting his forearms against the wall on either side of her. Still he kept a few inches between them, and that distance represented emotional miles to her. Her throat was sealed with a necklace of hot, moist kisses, and her head fell back to rest against the wall. Her lips parted slightly, and it became more difficult to concentrate on her morose thoughts under the wicked distraction of his mouth.
He moved lower, skirting her breasts, concentrating on the smooth, pale skin of her waist and stomach. He sank to his knees, and she felt the hot kisses trailing down the outside of one thigh, the flick of a tongue across the back of her knee. Her eyes remained closed, her neck arched, her breathing growing ragged. He forged a matching path with his lips on the inside of her leg, and her knees parted to allow him greater access without her direct volition. His mouth scorched a path up her inner thigh, before pressing a kiss against her center, at the apex of her thighs. She jerked in involuntary response to that bold kiss. She could feel his heat through the thin, silk panties she still wore, and a strangled cry escaped her.
Jaida reached for him then, doubts swirling away. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and he obeyed her unspoken demand, rising to fix his mouth over hers. Her lips opened beneath his, and her kiss evoked a response of its own. Without thinking, Trey closed the gap between them, pressing her close against him. He wasn't aware of the action of her hands until he felt her fingers smoothing over his chest, and he shuddered in response. He shrugged out of his shirt and it fluttered, unnoticed, to the floor. Her hands were stroking over his shoulders and down his biceps, making an exploration out of their journey. His muscles tensed as he attempted to counteract his body's natural reaction to her touch, a reaction that had seemed predestined from the start.
At first he'd been curious about the chemistry that leaped to life between them when they touched, and at times he'd evoked it deliberately, stoking the flames, savoring the uncustomary reaction. Fires were springing to life everywhere they touched. As gratifying as her response was, his own was just as involuntary, just as out of control.
Out of control wasn't a natural state for Trey Garrison.
He shook his head slightly, trying to clear it, unfamiliar with the fog of desire that had every other thought fading away. His mind wasn't obeying his command to focus; Jaida's touch was making a shambles of his carefully erected defenses. When her mouth went to his chest he groaned and took a step back. He wasn't consciously aware of his own attempt to recreate that distance between them, or of his failure to do so. Jaida followed him step for step, matched him stroke for stroke. His hands came up to delve in her hair, and he cradled her skull in one large palm, unconsciously guiding her lips to the places on his chest that would give him the most pleasure. The scrape of her teeth across one tight nub on his chest may have been by accident or design, but the effect had his breath hissing out between his teeth. He clutched handfuls of her long, blond tresses and rubbed them against his chest, closing his eyes in sybaritic pleasure. This was too much like the fantasies he'd had about her for days. But it was more than the fantasies, much more.
Reason edged further away. His hands stilled in her hair, sanity flickering feebly from a great distance. He'd anticipated this moment from the first time he'd touched Jaida. But in the recesses of his mind he was aware that this was going to cost him far more than he'd ever given another woman. Then she tilted her head to look up at him, her deep-blue eyes dazed now with passion, and that distant warning in his mind was effectively silenced.
Gathering her up suddenly in his arms, he walked the short distance to the bed and followed her down on it. Propping himself up on one elbow, he leaned over her, his gaze all-encompassing and intent.
Jaida quaked beneath that experienced gaze but sent one hand around his neck, fingers delving into the close-cropped hair at his nape. She understood despite her inexperience that he would want to regain his flagging control. Something deeply feminine inside her knew that to allow him to do so would be a mistake. So she gave in to the overpowering urge to touch him, to stroke his chest, with its light padding of muscles.
Trey held still under her gentle touch for long moments, unable to separate the sensations racing through him. The constant electricity between them sent flares of current firing under his skin, through his blood, mingling with the pulsing of arousal.
She knew the exact moment that he gave up his silent battle. A great sigh shuddered through him, and he pushed closer against her wandering hand, seeking a firmer touch. His hands went to her breasts, and the intimate caress caused her fingers to falter.
She had no intention of turning back, couldn't have forced herself to do so. She wasn't afraid of Trey; he'd never hurt her physically. But she couldn't control the naturally feminine fear of a woman about to lie with a man for the first time. He was so much bigger, and much stronger. Could he help hurting her?
He bent his head and took her nipple in his mouth and she gasped at the warm, wet suction. Her fingers went to his head and slid through his dark, thick hair, holding him closer to her. An involuntary whimper escaped her when he raised his head, but his hand came up to soothe the breast he'd abandoned, as he turned his attention to its twin. The aching longing in the pit of her stomach exploded, sending tendrils of sensation throughout her body.
His knee was urging her legs apart, before sliding upward to press lightly against her center. Jaida bucked against the pressure, which provided momentary relief from the unfamiliar ache lodged there. But soon it wasn't enough. Her hands skated desperately over his broad back and made contact with the dress pants he was still wearing.
She tugged at them frantically, ineffectually. Had she been able to think, she would have been embarrassed at the prospect of undressing Trey, tantalizingly frightened at the thought of his nudity, but right now the barrier between them was unbearable. He withstood her fumbling efforts for a few moments, but then the back of her hand brushed against the ridge behind his zipper, and he groaned.
She abruptly stilled at the sound. He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes smoldering slices of emeralds. "Touch me," he demanded huskily when she made no further movements. "Do it, Jaida." He took her hand in his and drew it down to rest against the zipper of his pants, pressing it against the bulge of hard male flesh there. She made a sound that was shocked discovery, and it mingled with his second groan.
He shaped her fingers against him, and she obeyed eagerly, lost in wonder. Her hand remained there after he released it, exploring his hard length. This was totally new for her, the freedom to touch and explore, and it seemed safe somehow through the barrier of his clothes. She wondered how he would feel in her hands, with nothing between them, but couldn't bring herself to work the zipper.
Trey remained motionless, enjoying her gentle touch. He rocked his hips once, forcing a firmer caress, but soon it wasn't enough. When one of her hands crept to the waistband of his pants, he couldn't summon the patience to wait. He reached down and unfastened them himself, drawing down the zipper, lifting his hips and kicking them off. He removed something from his pants pocket before disposing of his maroon briefs. Then he rolled back to lie on his side to face her.
Jaida's eyes were drawn inexorably, irresistibly, to his masculinity. And this time he didn't have to beg for her touch. She reached for him, and was shocked at the feel of his heated, pulsing length. Shyness was forgotten as she explored him in fascination, running her fingers over the veins and ridges of his desire. He was silk-encased steel, and her fingers faltered at the thought of him inside her. She hadn't guessed that he'd be so large, so powerful, and for the first time realized that he couldn't help but hurt her.
Trey reached an arm around her waist and brought her close to him, so close that her breasts flattened against his chest. He rubbed against her, enjoying the sensation. Then he sealed her mouth with his again, his tongue delving deep, tangling with hers. His hand swept across her bottom, lifting her to fit against his arousal. Their kiss grew more desperate, more demanding. His fingers skated just barely beneath the elastic of her panties, before delving inside to caress the silky cheeks.
His mouth twisted against hers, his hunger fed by her answering demand. He pushed the panties off her hips and broke away from their kiss to feast his eyes on her uncovered secrets.
Jaida felt blistered by his searing regard, but made no pretense at modesty. The time for modesty was long past. And it was difficult not to respond to the blatant admiration in his eyes.
"You're beautiful," he rasped. He brushed a gentle hand across the pale-blond hair at the juncture of her thighs, and she flinched in surprise. He spread his fingers to cup her femininity, and his accompanying kiss succeeded in distracting her from his bold caress. He fitted his knee between both of hers, enjoying the feel of his hair-roughened leg between her silky-smooth ones. He parted her femininity and found the small bud of desire hidden there. Using her own dampness to moisten her, he rubbed sensuous circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves and felt Jaida writhe against him.
She broke a
way from his kiss. "Trey!" Her cry could have been a plea or a protest. But her hands went to his shoulders, her fingers clenching unconsciously on the muscled expanse. He left a trail of fire as his lips scorched a path to her breast and drew her nipple into his mouth. His devilish fingers continued to work their magic, and the dual assault had her writhing against him.
The smoldering embers of desire combusted, sending tendrils of fire racing through her veins. There was a direct connection between the sensations at her breast and between her thighs, and she was helpless to fight the tidal wave of feelings. They were as wondrous as they were new, and a little frightening in their intensity. Jaida moaned as her muscles tightened. Trey's actions grew firmer, her response wilder. She was reaching for something, something she didn't quite understand. Unconsciously, she began to fight that terrifying feeling.
"No." Trey's voice was in her ear, guttural and viscerally sexy. "Don't fight it. Let it happen. Let go, Jaida. Just let go, love." His hand moved more firmly against her and abruptly she shattered, crying out his name against his lips. Her body tightened, then bones and muscles dissolved, and she was jetted over a precipice of pleasure.
Awareness returned very gradually. Trey caressed her face, pushing away the damp hair at her temples. Her eyelids fluttered, and her gaze when it met his was unfocused. That look in her eyes beckoned tender feelings that had been buried in him long ago, feelings that would be better left hidden. But that didn't stop him from giving her a gentle kiss, one that couldn't quite hide the need that still raged within him.
He released her and let her shoulders rest against the mattress. She was only half aware of his actions to protect her, before he was back, leaning over her, coaxing her legs apart and moving between them. Panic flared briefly as she struggled against the drugging effects of her climax. His shoulders were broad, and above her he looked overwhelmingly strong and powerful. He took her hand in his and guided it to his manhood, where it was poised at the juncture of her thighs. She swallowed convulsively. He couldn't help but hurt her; he was too big, his control too frayed. She didn't dwell on the possibility of pain, though. She craved his strength on top of her, his body touching every inch of hers, pressing her deeper into the mattress. She wanted him, fiercely, totally. She wanted him to be a part of her, to fill her where she was damp and aching. And she wanted this to be enough. When he was gone and she was alone again, she didn't want any regrets.
