Eden Burning

by Elizabeth Lowell

  And like the butterfly, she kept coming closer, then retreating in a velvet flurry.

  He sensed that she wanted him more with every touch, every easy silence, every conversation, every moment they spent together. He saw her yearning in the way her eyes followed him, in the softening of her mouth when she watched him, in the visible shivers that sometimes moved over her golden skin when he touched her casually.

  It was driving him crazy.

  The only thing that kept him from reaching out and grabbing her was an emotion that was even greater than his hunger for her. He needed to be certain that making love with her wouldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t bear hurting her again.

  If that meant never making love to her, so be it. Somehow he would find a way to live without having her in his bed.

  And each day he lived, he would curse himself for the unspeakable fool he had been eight days ago, when he had closed his hand and crushed the fragile wings of her trust in him.

  It will work out, he told himself silently.

  It had to. He couldn’t live with himself otherwise.

  Yesterday he and Nicole had hiked from Kilauea’s caldera past the cone called Kilauea Iki, where in 1959 fountains of lava nearly two thousand feet high had showered ash, pumice, and globs of cooling stone over an ohia forest. The trees had lost their leaves, their bark, and their lives to the volcano, but their trunks hadn’t burned completely. Their graceful skeletons lingered on, rising from the black, devastated land like ghosts of a greener yesterday frozen in time.

  Chase felt the same way. Frozen in time.

  He could control the physical ache of wanting Nicole. He couldn’t control the agony of having had her and then destroying her, leaving behind a mental landscape more bleak than any volcanic devastation he had ever seen.

  What made it worse was that she still didn’t understand. She blamed herself.

  He put the blame where it belonged. On him.

  “Need a break?” Nicole asked, sensing that Chase had stopped on the rough trail behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, his clear, beautiful eyes were measuring the black rivers of lava twisting down to the turquoise sea.

  “Just taking in the landmarks. You sure there’s a kipuka between here and the ocean?”

  For an instant she looked almost guilty. “It’s not a true kipuka,” she admitted. “But it’s very special. It’s the only place I’ve seen on this lava flow where anything more than Hawaiian snow grows.”

  He smiled crookedly. “Hawaiian snow,” he said, shaking his head at her reference to the plant that was always the first to colonize cooled lava flows. “White lichen.”

  “Hey, when you’re hungry for a white Christmas, you take what you can get,” she pointed out. “Besides, from a distance the stuff really does look like snow.”

  “Um” was the most tactful thing he could think of to say. As far as he was concerned, the lichen looked like milk that had been tossed out and left to curdle in the sun.

  Nicole paused on the margin between an old lava flow and a newer one. The aa ahead was intimidating, even to someone who was accustomed to walking on a jagged black jumble of stone.

  Chase came up and stood beside Nicole. Close beside her.

  She didn’t flinch away. If anything, she might have leaned closer to him, but he couldn’t be sure. He could only hope.

  “Bad patch?” he asked.

  She nodded and waited while he looked over the landscape for himself.

  “You could go down that way,” she said, pointing toward a thrusting ridge of rock only a few feet away. “It’s shorter, but it’s too big a drop for me.”

  “Okay. Wait here, and I’ll try something.”

  He scrambled down a particularly nasty stretch of aa lava, muttering when pieces crumbled and broke off beneath his feet. Newly made or as old as the flow itself, the lava edges were sharp. They gnawed happily on his heavy leather hiking boots. While he would have preferred the lighter, cooler high-tech boots he had often used for hiking, the modern materials just couldn’t take the punishment that aa ladled out the way leather could.

  When Chase found secure footing, he turned around and held out his arms to Nicole. She came into them without hesitation, enjoying his strength and the tingling currents that spread through her when she was held against his body.

  Gently he set her on her feet but didn’t release her.

  “Pay the toll,” he said.

  She smiled almost shyly.

  He gathered her even closer, savoring the supple, feminine curves pressed against him. What had begun early yesterday as a joke had become the highlight of the hikes for him, and the reason that he chose the most rugged trails he could find. With each rough spot on the trail Nicole was becoming more accustomed to his hands, to the feel of his body close to hers, to being held and holding him in return.

  She no longer flinched when he touched her.

  It was a small thing, but it was balm for both their wounds.

  Laughing softly, she hugged Chase, savoring how carefully he arranged her length along his body, matching curve to hollow, strength to softness. This was new to their hiking hugs, a closeness that had begun when he pulled her up a steep part of the trail.

  She enjoyed the new way of hugging all the way to the soles of her feet.

  After a few moments she knew that she should pull away and continue the hike as she had done just a few minutes back up the trail. But she didn’t. When she had seen the rugged patch of aa coming up, shivers of anticipation had gone through her.

  She had known that soon Chase would turn to her and hold her. Soon she would feel the hard muscles of his body shift and move beneath her hands as though he was savoring every bit of the casual embrace as much as she did. She felt the same about touching him. She memorized every instant of it.

  And she wanted more.

  Slowly she turned her head against his throat, unconsciously nuzzling aside the open collar of his shirt. She wanted to feel her cheek against his naked skin.

  Chase felt the glide of skin against skin and was afraid the sudden hammering of his heart would scare her away. When she didn’t withdraw, he let out a long breath. He spread his fingers until they all but spanned her back. Gently he shifted her from side to side, slowly rubbing her breasts across his chest. After an instant of stiffening, she sighed and softened in his hands, letting him lead her into an embrace that was more intimate than a friendly hug.

  Closing her eyes, Nicole floated on the sensations Chase was creating with the slow, slow stroking of her body over his. Her breasts tingled and tightened, sending currents of heat streaking through her. Suddenly, vividly, she remembered the feel of his mouth on her swollen nipples and the sweet, rhythmic tugging that had made fire spiral through her.

  “Chase?”

  The catch in her voice was as exciting to him as the feel of her nipples hardening beneath her flowered halter.

  “Yes?” he said, keeping his voice normal with an effort.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “I thought we agreed that you liked being hugged.”

  “I do. It’s just—” Her voice caught again as his hands shifted, somehow increasing the delicious friction on her breasts. “This is different.”

  “Is it? How?”

  She tried to think of a way of explaining that avoided raising the subject of sex.

  There was a long silence.

  “You can touch me if you like,” he said huskily, twisting slightly, subtly against her. “I’m not like your husband was. I won’t fall on you like a starving dog on a lamb chop.”

  She made a choked sound that could have been a gasp of surprise or laughter or both together.

  And she didn’t withdraw. In the last few days she had gotten used to more than Chase’s touch. She had also learned to enjoy his unexpected, sometimes outrageous, always reassuring, conversations about her past experience with her husband.

  “Don’t believe me?” Chase asked quie
tly. “Think about it. Even when I didn’t know how badly you’d been hurt, I still didn’t attack you when you touched me. Remember?”

  What she remembered was how much she had wanted to run her hands over him that night in the shower. Even the harsh lessons of her marriage hadn’t kept her from giving in to the point of stroking his chest with its fascinating patterns of hair and the muscles that shifted and slid so intriguingly beneath his skin.

  His eyes had changed at her touch, becoming smoky rather than clear, dark rather than light. But he hadn’t dragged her out of the shower and hammered her into the bathroom floor, which her husband had done once when he came home early and found her in the shower.

  “Yes.” She nuzzled again at the V of tan skin revealed by Chase’s unbuttoned shirt. “I remember.”

  He waited, holding her so skillfully that every way she turned increased the sensuous pressure of two bodies discovering each other. He shifted his stance slightly, savoring the delicious hardness of her nipples rubbing against him.

  “Are you afraid if you touch me the holding will stop and the sex will start?”

  His voice was as gentle as the hands holding her close, shifting her, tantalizing her. She turned her face away from his skin long enough to look at the unforgiving black lava heaped around them. She smiled crookedly.

  “Despite all the unlikely positions detailed in the sex manuals my husband gave me—no, I’m not afraid you have sex on your do-it-now list. With this aa for a bed, we’d bleed to death long before anything else happened.”

  Wisely Chase didn’t tell her that if she was willing, he could lift her, wrap her legs around his waist, and have her right here, right now, with never a scratch on her beautiful golden skin. All it took was a man with unusual strength and a hunger to match.

  He had both.

  “Then you’re safe,” he said, smiling. “So go ahead, touch me however you want.”

  “But . . .”

  He waited, watching the rise of color in her cheeks.

  “Wouldn’t that . . . that wouldn’t be . . .” She made a sound that was halfway between frustration and embarrassment.

  “Say it,” he coaxed, moving against her again, tensing the muscles of his chest, increasing the sensuous pressure on her nipples.

  “Won’t that be hard on you?” she asked in a rush.

  Then she heard her own words and blushed to the roots of her hair.

  Amusement flickered in Chase’s clear eyes as he smiled down at her. “No matter what your husband might have told you, having a woody and not having a woman isn’t a fatal condition for a man.”

  Her flush deepened even as she returned his teasing smile. “Lucky for you, huh?”

  “Damned lucky. Think about it, butterfly. I’m yours to touch any way you want.”

  Slowly he let go of her and turned away while he could still control his desire to stroke the tempting curves and hard peaks of her breasts with his hands. His mouth.

  “C’mon,” he said without looking back. “The beach can’t be that far away. I’m ready for a swim.”

  Closing her eyes, Nicole tried to control the hammering of her heart.

  She was on fire.

  No man had ever held her like that, teased her sweetly until she ached, then smiled gently at her and turned away. With a small sound of confusion and frustration, she opened her eyes, watching helplessly while Chase covered the rough ground with a power and grace that made her want to run her hands all over him. And her mouth.

  The idea should have shocked her. It didn’t. Being caressed by him had become a temptation that was almost beyond her will to resist. The thought of touching him, of being able to find out how to caress him in return, how to please him . . .

  That thought was definitely irresistible.

  “Chase?” she called, her voice ragged.

  He turned and looked back up at her. “Need help?”

  She spoke in a rush, afraid she would lose her courage and with it the chance to touch him. “If I touch you, will you tell me if I please you?”

  For a moment he thought she was joking—there was no way she could touch him and not please him. Then he saw the tension in her body as she came toward him, waiting for his answer.

  She wasn’t joking.

  She really didn’t understand how even her most casual touch gave him pleasure.

  “Yes,” he said simply as she came to stand next to him. “I’ll tell you. Will you do the same for me?”

  “What?”

  “Tell me if I please you.”

  He saw the look of surprise on her face and wondered at it.

  “I thought you knew,” she said in a low voice. “Your touch has always pleased me.”

  His smile was bittersweet. He remembered how he had taken her too quickly, in ignorance and stupidity and anger, not even suspecting what a treasure he held.

  “There’s more to touching than not being hurt,” he said.

  Her breath caught on a cascade of sensual memories. “I know,” she said in a throaty voice. She lifted one hand until her fingertips brushed across his mustache as lightly as a butterfly’s wing. “You taught me that.”

  He tilted his head slightly, increasing the pressure of her touch. “And that pleases me more than I can say.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise until they looked like pools of liquid gold.

  “Didn’t you know?” he whispered huskily, turning her face up to his with a gentle touch of his hand. “Your pleasure multiplies mine.” He smiled crookedly. “Of course, I’m not a saint. If you’d like to make me feel even better by kissing me, I wouldn’t object.”

  “You’re sure?” she asked, her eyes lighting with both laughter and anticipation.

  “Real sure.”

  She braced her hands on his shoulders and stood on tiptoe. Even so, he had to bend down to bring his lips close to hers.

  “It’s the oddest feeling,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “You make me feel small, feminine, sleek. All the things I’m not.”

  “You’re all of those things to me.” He tested the resilience of her waist with his hands. “Or are you trying to say politely that I’m a little oversize?”

  She smiled and pressed her lips against his jaw, his pulse. “Bobby’s even bigger, and he doesn’t make me feel this way. Small maybe, but not . . . mmm . . . delicious.”

  “Thank God,” Chase said roughly. “The day he makes you feel edible, tell me. Then we’ll see who eats what.”

  Her body moved with silent laughter.

  Feeling it, he smiled. Then her lips touched his and all thought of laughter burned away in a single instant. Remembering the fragile, trusting butterfly, he held himself still. But he couldn’t control the hungry tightening of his body when her tongue found his and her breath sighed into his mouth, filling him with her sweetness.

  Slowly, hesitantly, she ended the kiss.

  “I like that,” he whispered against her lips.

  “What?”

  “Tasting you.”

  “Do you? Do you really?”

  “Let’s try again.” He slid the tip of his tongue along her smile. “I might have been mistaken.”

  Her smile widened, parting her lips. With a feeling of pure luxury, she fitted her mouth to his and allowed herself the heady pleasure of kissing him without being afraid that the kiss would spiral out of control into sexual demands she wouldn’t be able to meet.

  As delicately as Chase had once tasted the flower, Nicole tasted him. The tip of her tongue found his, caressed gently, retreated, and returned. Tasting. Just that. So sweet a thing, tasting.

  She sensed the quiver of response in the taut male muscles beneath her hands and hesitated, fearful of arousing him too much and having to end the intimacy far too soon.

  “It’s all right, butterfly,” he said calmly. “Take as much or as little as you want. I won’t hurt you or demand more than you want to give.”

  She looked up into his c
lear gray eyes and saw that he meant every word. She swallowed and spoke in a husky, hopeful voice. “Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

  “Please. Yes. I love the taste of you.”

  With a sigh, she stretched up on tiptoe again and threaded her fingers into his thick black hair. This time when she fitted her mouth to his, there was no hesitation. She was hungry to know again the heat and textures of his kiss, to feel the delicious velvet roughness of his tongue sliding over hers. To taste him.

  This time when she felt the tremor of his response, it set off tiny shock waves of pleasure in her. She was pleasing him. She knew it as surely as she knew that he was pleasing her. Unconsciously she deepened the kiss, wanting more of him.

  He felt the difference in her, a change that sent his blood gathering heavily between his thighs. He tried to tame the depth of his response. He couldn’t.

  So he simply accepted it, as he accepted that he wouldn’t have the release his body was demanding with every hard, rapid beat of his heart. He had had release before. He wanted more this time. Much more.

  He wanted Nicole.

  For that, he would have to be patient.

  Very slowly he shifted her supple, lush body with his hands, rubbing her breasts against his chest. The tiny intake of her breath as her nipples became more sensitive, more responsive, revealed that she was forgetting her fear and drinking more deeply of the sweetness he was offering.

  He told himself it was sneaky and unfair to use such masculine tricks on her, to turn her own awakening sensuality against her. To seduce her. She had never known pleasure with a man, so she had no defenses against it.

  And in that lay his best hope of having her again.

  Nicole didn’t know how long she stood on tiptoe kissing Chase. She knew only that at some point her bones turned to honey and his arms came hard around her, supporting her. When she finally surfaced from the slow mating of tongues, she could barely breathe.

  She opened her eyes, wanting to see him, needing to know if he had enjoyed the kiss as much as she had.

  “Yes,” he said, answering the question in her eyes. “Oh, God, yes!”