Another groan and he stroked his erection a few times, then wrenched his hands away, clasped them on top of his head and watched her, jaw set, eyes narrowed.
He was suffering deeply. She loved it. She’d never felt this wild, euphoric freedom before. Not with anyone. Not even close.
Her panties came off, dragged down with her thigh-highs. She stepped out of her shoes and flung the clothes off to the side with an elegant flick of her wrist.
Naked. And proud.
In an amazing coincidence, the music stopped just as her stockings and panties hit the floor. The silence in the room was electric. She held his eyes, waiting, preparing to take her cue from the mood of the next piece.
The tropical rhythms of “Begin the Beguine” poured out of the speakers. She crouched between his legs, drew her hands up his chest and helped him off with his shirt, then the rest of his clothes. He only touched her twice—as if he knew this was her show but couldn’t bear not to—once brushing his palms over her breasts, sending a jolt of desire through her, once sliding warm hands up her back as she lowered his pants. The rest of the time he let her undress him, helping when necessary, watching her as if he was intent on memorizing her every move.
Now…She pushed him back on the couch after his pants had been flung to join her underwear, knelt slowly, swaying to the music, put her hands on his muscular thighs and took him into her mouth, reveling in his gasp of pleasure.
He was a perfect size, not small but not too large to take in comfortably. She started slowly, exploring, tasting with lips and tongue, intent on giving him pleasure, wildly turned on where she usually felt oral sex was something of a duty. Sensing him watching her turned her on more. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself into his mind, imagining what he’d want her to do, then doing it. Sucking the tip, then deep-throating his entire length, pushing down on the base of his penis with her fingers to increase the tension.
“Catriona.” He sounded a little weak, and she tried not to smile.
“Mmm?”
“Do you want to go into the bedroom?”
She shook her head and went down on him again.
“Catlaina.” He reached and dragged her up next to him. “If you want to do anything but this, you need to give me a break.”
“Oh?” She smiled teasingly. “Okay.”
“I’ll get a condom.” He left the room briefly and returned, tall and athletic and totally unselfconscious, walking naked, fully erect, in front of a woman he’d barely known a day. Her chest constricted painfully and she pushed the sadness away. He was hers tonight and she was crazy about him. That was something to celebrate.
Quinn sat back on the couch, rolled on the condom and opened his arms wide. “I’m all yours. Do what you will.”
“What a good idea.” She straddled him, then began rotating her hips in a tiny circle to the music, lowering until the lips of her sex brushed the tip of his penis, and he gave a soft moan.
“I am not sure I’m going to survive this.”
She lowered another careful inch, trapping the head of his erection at her opening, the promise of penetration making her breath unsteady. “You said that last night.”
“I did, didn’t I?” His eyes closed; he took hold of her waist to hurry her the rest of the way onto him.
She resisted. “And you’re still here.”
Another inch. He drew in breath, a sharp hiss. “This time the pleasure is going to be fatal. I’m sure.”
She paused, watching his face, knowing she was putting her heart in danger again. She should take him in to the hilt right now and keep the mood raunchy and fun. But she waited until he opened his eyes into hers, then slowly sank the rest of the way onto him, maintaining their powerful connection, her emotional shield all but gone.
I love you.
He wrapped his arms around her and moved her carefully sideways on the couch, then settled himself between her legs and resumed his rhythm, gazing into her eyes.
She gazed back, utterly at ease. I love you.
“I can’t bear to leave you tomorrow, Ekatarina.”
Her heart jolted. Then don’t.
She left the thought unsaid. What good would it do? He wasn’t going to change his plans and career choices after knowing her twenty-four hours.
“It will be…” She should say something sensible like, difficult, but time will fly, and before you know it you’ll be back again. Instead she said, “Really horrible.”
He nodded and then he stopped moving, stared down at her with a look of intense absorption, and she felt herself stiffen, crazy fear and excitement rising in equal amounts.
“I’m…”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to London on Tuesday.”
She rolled her eyes, almost angry in her disappointment. “Trust me, Quinn, I know that.”
He began to move again, as if whatever trouble had been gripping him was released. Then he lowered his head so his lips were right next to her ear.
“Come with me.”
Cathy walked up Fifth Avenue
in Brooklyn, toward Eighth Street
and home. The sun was out, temperatures in the mid-thirties, fairly mild for that time of year. It was Christmas Eve…and she was miserable.
Quinn’s invitation last night had broadsided her. He liked and desired her enough to want her with him for as much vacation time as she could take from Connoisseur while he completed his last assignment for the magazine, before he started his year of study.
Immediately every part of her had prepared to scream an eager yes.
And then…her natural caution had kicked in, and she’d started to analyze.
If she thought past the bliss of a week—or more, if her boss let her—in London with Quinn, helping him on his assignment, traveling, exploring, then spending lots of time in their hotel room doing even more exploring, she’d face another separation, this one made even more painful by the inevitably stronger feelings she would develop.
Or…what if their week wasn’t blissful? What if she got to London and found their wild weekend here was simply a combination of opportunity and chemistry and fantasy which should have stayed in Manhattan? What if their habits didn’t mesh, their attraction staled and the whole love affair turned sour? She’d be stuck in London with a man she barely knew who would no longer want her there and have to come home ten times more miserable than she was now.
So she’d said no. No to adventure, no to love, no, no, no and goodbye. Maybe a year from now, when he came back, they could pick up where they’d left off. That would be nice, though it didn’t help the lead in her stomach feel any lighter. The year ahead stretched on forever—three hundred and sixty-five days; eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours; five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. And without Quinn or Catriona, Catlaina or Ekatarina, Cathy Ann Johnson would be left alone, undoubtedly second-guessing her decision even more strongly than she was now, to count them all.
Well not entirely alone. She still had Jake….
Cathy stopped stock-still. She didn’t want Jake. Deep down she’d known that for a while, probably from the first moment Quinn had kissed her, maybe before. Around Jake she felt as dull and ordinary as she felt sexy and fascinating around Quinn. Having tasted that thrill and connection, she couldn’t go back to lukewarm, comfortable interest.
A woman edged around her, giving her a questioning smile for standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Cathy lurched back into motion. She couldn’t turn to Jake now. Especially since she suspected Melinda felt about him the way Cathy did about Quinn, and maybe the two of them deserved a shot.
She rounded the last corner and stopped abruptly again, staring at her building. The early setting sun made the windows glitter and slanted across the masonry so it glowed a rich, ruddy sand color. The stone protuberances on the roof threw regular shadows that looked nearly like battlements. The bizarre asymmetrical entrance flanked by narrow trees decorated for the holidays could
be about to lower a drawbridge across the sidewalk moat.
Cathy took in a long breath. Melinda’s horoscope had been exactly right. Cathy had gotten a gift from her true love. Not underwear from Jake. But a new, finer, clearer vision of her city…and her home…and herself. From Quinn.
She ran the rest of the way to her fabulous futuristic castle and charged up the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. This was going to be the best Christmas she’d ever had.
Inside her apartment, she was halfway to the phone to call Quinn when Melinda’s door opened and out came…Jake. Naked.
“I’m getting water, babe. You want a—”
He froze, staring at Cathy, who clamped down on a giggle and managed a placid smile. “Hello, Jake.”
“Uh…” He covered his manly parts with his hands and started backing into Melinda’s room. “Hi…Cathy.”
Melinda’s gasp could be heard from inside her bedroom.
“Merry Christmas, Melinda,” Cathy called. “I guess you found something that made you happier than dog poo?”
Melinda sidled out of her bedroom, cheeks flushed brilliant red, curls a tangled mess, still tying her robe. “Cathy. I’m—It was—I mean we just happened. He was—Well, it was like we couldn’t help it.”
Cathy’s eyebrow rose slowly. “Different when the moral shoe is on the other foot?”
“Oh, um, yeah.” Melinda examined her toes. “I’m sorry I came down on you so hard. I guess I was jealous.”
“It’s really okay.” She lowered her voice. “Jake and I weren’t destined for true love after all.”
Melinda frowned. “Yeah, your horoscope must have meant some other gift.”
“It did.” Cathy laughed. “Believe it or not, it was absolutely right.”
“Well, duh. Why would I believe in something that wasn’t legit?”
Jake reappeared wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and both women turned, Melinda gazing adoringly. He cleared his throat. “Cathy, I’m really sorry about—”
“Don’t be.” Cathy held up her hand to stop him. “I wasn’t totally honest with you. I met someone else. I didn’t think it was going to be serious, but…it got that way really fast.”
“Yeah.” He reached to touch Melinda’s hair. “I know what you mean.”
The three of them stood smiling enormous smiles, equal parts relief and happiness, until it became painfully obvious none of them wanted to be standing there smiling enormous smiles anymore.
“Well. So. Good.” Cathy beamed at them both. “And now I have a phone call to make and some packing to do.”
“That’s right—you’re going to your parents’ house!” Melinda winked at Jake, who leered back, obviously thrilled at the idea of Cathy’s imminent departure.
“Yup.” Cathy turned and hightailed it into her bedroom, shouting back over her shoulder just for the thrill of hearing the words out loud. “And then…I’m going to London.”
Quinn unlocked the door to his apartment, totally exhausted, then barreled in and slammed it behind him when he heard Mrs. Hoffman’s door opening across the hall.
Christmas had been the usual toxic affair, with forced cheer and goodwill between Quinn, his brothers and his parents. Even his nieces and nephews were grumping in teenage hell, though they provided him with the only good conversation and genuine affection of the two days. Expensive presents, excellent food, exquisite wine and the annual walk on the Griggstown canal, though it was gray, damp and bitterly cold. Merry Christmas. Ho, ho, ho boy was he glad that was over.
Except now there was nothing between him and the trip he’d started thinking of as London Without Cathy.
He wearily carted his overnight bag into his room, unpacked it and took out the items he’d also be taking to Europe, to add to the cases already packed and waiting.
Three steps toward his living room, his fatigue increased, his chest tightened, his breathing passages narrowed to panic. Again.
He sank onto his bed and forced himself to face what he was feeling. This was ludicrous. He couldn’t make a major decision based on a whim, not at his age. He was no longer a kid and had long ago given up trying to understand or please his parents. There was no one to rebel against anymore except…himself.
Three steps to the window, and he threw it open, breathing in the New York air tinged with the damp coming of snow. In an hour and a half he’d be leaving for the airport. Going to his second home city, embarking on all the new, fresh and invigorating enrichment he thought his life here lacked…
He was full of it.
Five strides to his bedside table, and he picked up the phone, dialed the international code for England, London, then his friend John’s number. When John’s answering machine picked up, he left a message for his friend to call back.
Energy flooded him. And relief. He practically ran to the table in his living room where he’d scrawled Cathy’s number on a business card. He punched in half the digits, then screwed up and had to start over, impatient fingers clumsy.
The call connected. Rang once. Twice. Come on, be home. Her machine answered; he hung up, cursing. Leaving a message didn’t cut it. He wanted her now. But he didn’t even know her cell number. Or what time she’d planned to be home from her parents’ house.
God, this was crazy. After breaking up with three women in the past five years whom he’d dated for months but hadn’t been willing to stick with, he was changing his entire life for a woman he knew next to nothing about, whom he’d dated for a little over thirty-six hours.
It felt damn good.
Where the hell was she? His euphoria began dissolving into frustration. He had to be on that plane tonight. He couldn’t cancel his assignment for the magazine. But if he didn’t reach Cathy before he left to let her know he’d be coming back to her…well, he could call her tonight from London, but it wasn’t the same. If he reached her now, she might even be able to spend a little time with him at the airport before his flight.
A knock on his door had his hopes rising even though he knew he was being ridiculous. But he couldn’t help hurrying, throwing the door open, preparing himself for disappointment.
“Hello, Quinn, dear.” His neighbor, holding out a package.
“Hi, Mrs. Hoffman.” The disappointment he was supposed to be prepared for nearly crushed him. “Hope you had a nice Christmas.”
“Very nice. This came for you while you were gone. Too big to fit in your box downstairs, so I picked it up for you.”
And undoubtedly all but had it X-rayed to see what it was and who had sent it.
“Thanks.” He started to close the door, then thought better of his rudeness. “Uh, Happy New Year.”
“You going somewhere?” She peered around him, obviously catching sight of his suitcases.
“Yes. But I’ll be back in two weeks.” He couldn’t help grinning. Hot damn. Two weeks.
“Are you seeing more of that lovely girl?” she asked slyly.
His grin turned into a chuckle. “I hope to be seeing that lovely girl for the rest of my life.”
“Oh!” To his utter amazement, her eyes filled with tears. “How wonderful. I’m so happy for you. And frankly, it’s about time.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Hoffman.” He wished her a Happy New Year again, thanked her for her offer to keep an eye on the place while he was away—as if she didn’t while he was here—and finally got the door closed. Inside, he eyed the package curiously. No postage; it must have been hand-delivered. He tore off the wrapping, lifted the lid of the box and gaped.
A male thong, with the head of an elephant strategically placed. Immediately Cathy’s voice came back to him from the office less than a week ago—It’s your job to provide the trunk. And written in silver marker across the broad gray forehead: Seduce me.
His turn to feel tears pricking at his eyes. God, if only he could seduce her right now. But even he could stand waiting two weeks if it meant he could seduce her anytime he wanted after he got back.
Another kn
ock. He rolled his eyes and went to answer, wondering if Mrs. Hoffman had stood outside counting seconds until he must have opened the package so she could barge in and see. He opened the door and froze.
Cathy. Holding a suitcase. And waving…a passport.
He stared at her, unable to take in what she was doing there. “Cathy.”
The door behind her opened again, and Mrs. Hoffman’s beaming face poked out. Quinn grabbed Cathy through the door and shut it, shaking his head.
“Busybody.” He chuckled at the déjà vu.
“Yeah, there’s one in every building.”
“True.” He remembered their exact exchange last Friday night and probably every word they’d exchanged since then. “So…hi.”
“Hi. Well. I’m…” She raised her arms out to the side. “Here.”
“So you are. Come on in.”
She stepped past him into his living room, rolling her suitcase behind her. “Nice place. You own this or rent?”
He grinned. “Are you by any chance wearing really exciting underwear?”
“Actually, yes.”
His cock jumped predictably, but for this woman, so did his heart. “And would you by any chance be willing to show it to me in a London hotel tonight?”
She dropped the suitcase handle and stepped up to him, beautiful hazel eyes full of tears. “I’d love to.”
“And…” His voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Would you like to spend two weeks there, then come back home to Manhattan with me and fall the rest of the way in love?”
Her mouth opened to speak. Then what he said must have hit her, because she closed it, looking as stunned as he’d felt opening the door to her.
“I’m not going, Cathy. Not for the year.”
“But…why?”
He put his arms around her, drew her close, where he wanted to feel her for the rest of his life. “Remember when you asked me if not being close to my family had left a hole in my life?”
“Yes,” she whispered, eyes shining with hope, and he knew that if they both lived to be a hundred, they’d still be together and that he’d never forget a single detail of how she looked right now.
“It did, though I didn’t realize. I’ve been trying to fit a yearlong trip to London into a hole with your exact size and shape.”
The Nights Before Christmas Page 8
