One-Click Buy: June 2009 Harlequin Blaze

by Tori Carrington

  4

  HE HADN’T. When Anji emerged from the bathroom after her first bubble bath in more than ten years all limp and relaxed and swathed in her new pajamas and a thick terry-cloth robe, Dev was soundlessly asleep, sprawled on his stomach.

  He looked different without his glasses. Much younger. She had a difficult time reconciling this Dev with the man who’d revealed the sensual side of himself earlier.

  Yes. About that.

  She hadn’t forgotten—how could she?

  He’d made her aware. Aware of him. Aware of herself. And now she was curious.

  She studied Dev as he slept. Or studied what she could see of him. He wore a shirt and she assumed pajama bottoms. Honestly, they could walk around in public dressed this way and people wouldn’t give them a second look.

  She could see his face by the light of the lamp on her side of the bed. His skin was light, reminding her of tea-stained milk. He had a high forehead, a bold but well-shaped nose and generous lips. Kissable lips.

  She’d not taken the time to study the various features of his face this way, just that they worked together well.

  He’s quite good-looking, at least the left side of his face is.

  Did he find her attractive? She’d certainly done nothing to enhance her looks since she’d started her residency. In the mornings, she washed her face with soap, maybe slapping on a little moisturizer, maybe not, and pulled her hair into a messy lump that sat on the back of her neck. She’d given up wearing contact lenses because her eyes protested. Her only makeup was ChapStick, if that counted. On really special occasions she’d attempt to camouflage the ravages of too little sleep by swiping her cheeks with an ancient powder blush she still had. She suspected it didn’t help.

  And look at him. Men had it easy. All he had to do was shave and if he didn’t, some men could still get away with the stubbled look.

  She knelt down until their faces were on the same level and tried to imagine waking up with him in the mornings. Going to bed in the evenings. Making love with him.

  Anji conjured up her image in the fitting room and the way she’d felt when he’d asked her to imagine his hands on her. Her skin prickled. She felt warmth pool low in her belly and between her legs. Clinically, she knew this was sexual arousal. Physically, she wanted his hands on her right now.

  Such a specific desire was new to her, and Anji allowed herself time to experience it. She consciously relaxed her muscles and repeated the image in her thoughts…. Dev’s hands sliding up her rib cage and covering her breasts… Her breathing changed, became faster and deeper. She wanted to be touched and she wanted to be touched by Dev.

  Impulsively, Anji leaned toward Dev and very gently placed her lips on his. She liked the way he tasted and the way his mouth felt against hers. She felt pleasure and he wasn’t even doing anything. She was going to enjoy marriage. She lifted her head. She was going to enjoy Dev.

  Taking off the robe, Anji walked around to her side of the bed, turned out the light and climbed in beside him, the bed so large he barely moved.

  Her mother would be scandalized, but honestly, this was no different than sleeping in the physicians’ lounge with other residents when she was on call.

  Well, maybe a little different.

  She’d never wanted to throw off her scrubs and wrap her naked body around one of the other residents the way she wanted to do with Dev right this very minute.

  Anji smiled. Her mother was right to be scandalized.

  Anji sank into the bed, felt the exquisite sheets caress her cheek and zonked out.

  In the dark on the other side of the bed, Dev touched his lips and smiled.

  SUNLIGHT GLOWED into the room around the edges of the blackout drapes. It was still very dark in the room, but not pitch-black.

  Anji was asleep.

  Dev slowly maneuvered onto his side and faced her, careful not to disturb her. He felt drugged by the amount of sleep he’d had. He didn’t know what time it was because he hadn’t looked at his cell phone and he didn’t care.

  Although he’d told Anji he’d had the day off, he hadn’t—not until he’d called half a dozen colleagues to get his shift covered today. Dev stretched. He’d promised all kinds of tradeoffs, so he was in for a rough couple of weeks.

  It was worth it.

  Last night, Anji had kissed him. He’d barely awakened as she’d pulled away and was sorry he’d missed it. At least he knew it had happened.

  She’d kissed him. That was a very good sign.

  And he wanted to kiss her. Also a good sign, except that he wanted her awake when he did so. He wanted to taste her. He wanted his tongue to dance with hers. He just plain wanted.

  He watched her, thinking of lovers who spent hours watching each other sleep.

  After about thirty seconds, Dev was bored with watching Anji sleep. Afraid he’d awaken her if he stayed, he slipped out of the room and closed the door.

  Once in the living area, he stretched again and called room service for a pot of tea and the Sunday paper.

  After a quick shower and shave in the suite’s other bathroom, he opened the sliding doors to the balcony and when room service arrived, had them set up there.

  He heard water running when he closed the door behind the bellman.

  Anji was awake. Good timing. Thinking to knock on the bathroom door and tell her about the tea, Dev opened the door to the bedroom and stopped when he heard a gasp.

  Wrapped in a towel, she stood by the bed, clutching her purse, her hair falling over her shoulders and down her back, nearly to her waist, or where he thought her waist would be. Not very much past that, the towel ended, revealing sturdy thighs and well-shaped legs. Strong and healthy, not skinny and calcium deficient. She probably thought her thighs were too big, but to Dev they were just right. He could prove it to her with statistical ratios, but in his experience, women didn’t care about statistical ratios as much as they cared about how they looked in skinny jeans.

  She looked the way a woman should. Period.

  They were staring at each other. Anji eyed him warily because he probably looked like a lecher.

  He should excuse himself and close the door.

  Not a chance.

  “I was getting the brush out of my purse,” she explained.

  “Oh.”

  After several more moments passed when neither of them said anything, Anji set her purse on the bed and pulled the towel more tightly around her, mounding her breasts above the edge.

  Dev guessed she didn’t know that. He cleared his throat. “I ordered tea. It’s on the balcony.”

  “Thank you. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  Leave. Leave now.

  He couldn’t stop staring at her and hoping she’d let the towel drop and beckon him to join her in the bed. He could almost feel the sheets against his bare skin.

  He wanted to see the breasts he’d dreamed about. He wanted to touch them, suckle them, scrape his teeth across them and hear her sounds of passion.

  And know that no man had ever caused her to feel that way. So what if it was politically incorrect? The thought of making her feel like a woman for the first time made him feel like a man. He was already as hard as surgical steel. All that was left was to rip off his shirt, beat on his chest and drag her off by her hair.

  “Anji…” He took a step toward her.

  “No.” Her gaze dropped to his surgical steel.

  Couldn’t she sound regretful?

  “You’re so beautiful.”

  “Thank you. It’s good that you think so. However, right now, it doesn’t matter and it won’t sway me.” She marched toward him. “I have been saving myself for my husband for a very long time and you are not yet my husband. I have been teased, called names, been the object of bets, told that I am out of touch with society and that coming to my husband untouched doesn’t mean anything anymore.” She stopped right in front of him, breathing heavily. “But listen to me, Devak Sharma, this is what our religio
n teaches and I won’t forget it just because your penis woke up.”

  She went into the bathroom and locked the door.

  “I didn’t ask you to,” he called after her.

  “You didn’t have to,” he heard.

  “And I wasn’t going to!” He stared at the closed door. “But I wouldn’t have said no if you had.”

  ANJI LEANED against the door as her heart rate slowed. Just watching the expressions on Dev’s face as he stared at her had aroused her.

  It just showed what fourteen straight hours of sleep would do to a person.

  She draped the towel on the vanity and regarded her nude body. Closing her eyes, thinking of Dev’s face just now, she slid her palms up her rib cage and cupped her breasts.

  Her mouth grew dry and she pulled her lower lip into her mouth.

  This didn’t have to be all or nothing. They could have something.

  Anji honestly believed that Dev hadn’t intended anything more than sleep and a chance to talk when they were rested. If she’d believed otherwise, she would never have turned off the shower or picked up the towel and wound it around her waist like a sari and left herself bare from the waist up. Nor would she have unlocked the door and opened it a crack and called his name into the darkened room.

  “Dev, are you still out there?”

  “Yes.”

  Anji peeked around the door. Dev sat on the bed, his head bowed, hands dangling between his knees.

  “We’re not going to have sex today.”

  “I got that. I never intended to frighten you. I’m so sorry. So very sorry.”

  Laughing softly, she draped her hair so it veiled her breasts, turned off the light and came out of the bathroom. “You didn’t frighten me. You excited me,” she whispered.

  Dev’s head snapped up and when he saw her, he shot to his feet.

  “I want to know you a little more intimately.”

  “Tell me exactly what you want, or we’ll know each other a lot more intimately.”

  “Well, first, I want you to take off your shirt.”

  With breathtaking speed, Dev reached for the hem and pulled the whole thing over his head without unbuttoning it.

  He had a broad, lightly muscled chest and trim waist. Clearly he attempted to keep himself fit, even on a resident’s brutal schedule.

  He was watching her look at him. She should say something complimentary, but her mood was rapidly cooling. Her initial impulse had carried her as far as it was going to and her natural reserve was returning.

  “I’m glad you’re not fat,” she said.

  He grinned as he drew his hands to his waist. The drawstring waist hung loosely on his hips, well below his navel.

  “I’m not going to ask you to remove any more clothing,” she said quickly.

  “That would be best.”

  His gaze roamed over her, returning so often to her breasts that she consciously had to keep from covering them. Trying to relax, she slowed and deepened her breathing. Her chest rose and fell, sending a lock of hair slithering to one side. Not exactly what she’d planned.

  Dev’s eyes followed the movement and clung. What did he see? She wouldn’t look. She wasn’t ashamed, she was shy.

  Concentrate on Dev.

  Only then did she notice that his hands had dropped to his sides and were clenched into fists. He was breathing as though he’d run all the way up the stairs to their room. His eyes were dark as he raised them to hers. Dark and intense. Focused.

  She shivered and more hair fell away. His eyes followed that, too.

  She felt the room’s air-conditioning on her skin and knew he could see pretty much everything there was to see.

  The longer he went without saying anything, the more she wanted to cover herself with her hands.

  No. Not her hands—his hands. Yes, that was what she really wanted. Except she wasn’t sure how to transition from the two of them staring at each other from across the room to kissing and caressing.

  He visibly swallowed. “You said the first?” His voice was husky.

  “First?”

  “You said the first thing you wanted me to do was take off my shirt.”

  She nodded and blurted out, “In the fitting room, you told me to imagine your hands where mine were and the way I felt. I don’t want to imagine anymore. I want to know. And I want to know what your lips feel like when you’re awake.”

  Oops.

  But Dev didn’t seem to notice. He crossed the room to her. “They feel like this.” He bent his head and carefully pressed his lips to hers. They were firm, yet soft, yielding without being pillowy or mushy, and he wasn’t pressing so hard her mouth went numb, as had unfortunately happened in the distant past. He tilted his head, changing the angle to a better fit. Oh, yes. That was nice. Very nice. He sucked gently. Very, very nice.

  Anji wanted more. No other part of them touched. This barely counted as a kiss. It was the chaste kiss between a schoolboy and a schoolgirl.

  And then it wasn’t.

  Dev brushed his lips back and forth, coaxing hers apart. She swayed forward.

  Taking her hands, Dev drew them up to his shoulders at the same time he pulled her lower lip between his and sucked gently.

  A trembling started deep within Anji’s belly and she clutched at his shoulders. Dev spread one hand against her spine and with the other burrowed beneath her hair, pulling it to the back and cupping her head.

  He pulled her against his chest, twisting so that her nipples rubbed against his skin.

  “Oh!” she said into his mouth.

  And he did it again and it was even better.

  Dev deepened the kiss. His tongue rimmed the inside of her lips before sliding into her mouth. She stroked his tongue with hers and rubbed her breasts against his chest again. And again.

  He groaned. “You can’t keep doing that.”

  “But I love the way it feels,” she protested.

  “So do I, which is why you can’t keep doing it.” He crushed her to him and took her mouth again.

  Anji circled her arms around his neck and toyed with the silky strands of his hair.

  They kissed for a long time, learning each other’s scent and taste until finally Dev touched his forehead to hers and just held her. “They say a couple falls in love about the time their first child is born.”

  “I think we’re ahead of schedule.”

  “Yes,” Dev said. “We are.”

  He brushed her hair away from her face. With his hands on her shoulders, he urged her to turn around so she could see their reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door. Her lips were pink and slightly swollen and a flush bloomed across her throat and chest.

  Dev’s intense gaze made her breasts feel prickly in anticipation of his touch. Or any touch.

  Dev brushed her hair aside and kissed the place where her neck and shoulder met. His tongue circled her skin and he nipped it, not strongly enough to hurt, but unexpected enough to make her inhale. “You leave a mark and my mother will see it!”

  “Should I leave a mark where your mother won’t be looking?”

  “I don’t want a mark at all!”

  “Nothing to remind you of me?”

  “As though I would forget you.”

  “I want you to think of me, Anji. Of us. And when all the wedding preparations become too much and you are ready to scream, think of us like this and know that I am doing the same.”

  “Dev,” she breathed.

  Slowly he drew his hands up her rib cage as she clenched her fists at her sides. Her nipples tightened and his lips curved.

  “Dev.” It was a plea.

  When he finally cupped her breasts, she felt a moment of relief before he drew his thumbs across the tips. In the mirror she saw her eyes widen in surprise as desire zinged through her. “More.”

  He hesitated.

  “More!” she demanded.

  He kissed the side of her neck.

  “More,” she pleaded in frustration
.

  And finally his thumbs moved again.

  Anji’s breath hitched as feelings she’d only read about took over rational thought. “More,” she whispered.

  Dev used his fingers to roll and stroke her into mindlessness.

  She shifted her weight from side to side as her body swayed on its own.

  Her head fell back against his shoulder and she gave herself up to the exquisite sensations, moving against him.

  “Anji…” His breath was ragged.

  Dev moved closer to her. Through the towel, Anji felt how hard he was.

  She was being selfish, thinking of only her own pleasure without a thought to what it cost him. Drawing a shuddering breath, she placed her hands over his to still his fingers.

  Her breath came in great gulps.

  So did his.

  “Yes, you’re right. We must stop now.” Dev’s voice was low and rough. “But we will continue this on our wedding night.” He moved his hands, sliding them out from beneath hers and turned her to face him. “I look forward to being your husband, Anjali Rawat.”

  Anji sighed. “Oh, so do I.”

  5

  Six weeks later…

  “NOW WHERE WERE WE?”

  “Possibly standing a few inches to the left,” Anji said to tease her new husband.

  “I don’t know,” he mused from behind her as he gazed at their reflection in the full-length mirror. “Something seems to be missing.”

  “Perhaps a pair of pajama bottoms and a thick, white, terry-cloth towel?”

  “I do believe you’re right.” Dev’s naked thigh pressed against hers.

  “That towel made my hips look huge.”

  “I didn’t notice,” he said dryly. Splaying his hands over her abdomen, he pressed her against him so she could feel how hard he was.

  After a three-day wedding celebration in India, where they were never alone, Dev and Anji had left their parents visiting relatives and had spent the past twenty-four hours flying back to the Wainright Inn where they could at last begin their honeymoon.

  It would be only a weekend honeymoon, but they planned to make the most of it.

  Anji was already supremely happy. She had only to look at Dev and know what he was thinking. It was very easy, since she’d been thinking the same thing: they wanted to be back in the bridal suite at the Wainright Inn to finish the intimate exploration they’d begun several weeks earlier. And now, at last, they were.