by Kristi Gold
“A very good idea. Then you forgive me?”
She toyed with the necklace. “I’m warming up to the idea.”
He intended to do more than warm her up. He wanted to make her hot. But first things first. “Now I have something else to show you.”
She sent him a sassy smile. “Is it in your pants, too?”
“I would be happy to allow you to do a full body search, but not now. What I want you to see is in another room.”
He took her hand and led her into the great hall that held the massive dining-room table, now laid out with myriad canapés, cheeses, fruit, dishes and desserts for their evening meal.
Kate turned around the room and took in the various coats of arms hanging along the paneled walls and the twenty-foot, floor-to-ceiling russet stone fireplace. “This room is huge. Do you use it for entertaining dignitaries?”
Marc moved to the table and leaned against it. “Actually, I’ve rarely had any guests. It was originally a ski lodge and when the owners retired, I purchased the place as my own private haven.” His place to escape.
Kate surveyed the banquet awaiting them. “Oh. I thought maybe we’re expecting the entire continent for dinner, considering all the food.”
Marc had gone to a great deal of trouble having the meal prepared and delivered by the staff. It was excessive, but very impressive to the observer. “It’s all for us.”
She strolled along the table’s edge, sampling a few items as she went. “I’m not sure I’m that hungry.”
“We could wait until later, if you wish.” He could think of other ways to spend the time.
She slid her fingertip through the chocolate mousse and licked it, sparking Marc’s imagination. “Come to think of it, I could use some food.” She claimed the high-back chair at the end of the table, farthest from the food, without taking a plate. “Okay, let’s eat.”
“Kate, there is no one here to serve us.”
She rested her clasped hands in front of her. “You’re here. If you want my forgiveness, then you’re going to have to work for it.”
Marc saw no problem with that. He predicted finding many ways to make it up to her with lovemaking she would not soon forget. Nor would he.
He took a plate and heaped it full of the fare, carefully selecting several baked oysters still housed in their shells. He had never proven or disproven their aphrodisiac qualities, but he assumed it could not hurt.
After filling his own plate and pouring two glasses of wine, he took the chair on the side of the table closest to her, expecting her to begin eating. Instead, she simply stared at him.
“Do you not find my choices satisfactory?” he asked.
“I’d like it better if you fed me.”
Fed her? Kate, the confident doctor who had made it quite clear she disdained being helpless? Yet when he noted the fiery look in her eyes, he realized this could be her idea of foreplay. Obviously, he was losing his insight into the feminine mind. He would make it up to her with his knowledge of the feminine body.
He started with the oysters first, holding the fork to her lips and frankly expecting her to protest. Instead, she took the bite without any revulsion, a point in her favor. Many did not enjoy the delicacy as he did.
“I love these,” she said after swallowing the bite.
“So do I.” And he loved the way her lips looked at the moment, moist and pursed with pleasure. “What shall it be now?”
She nodded toward the fruit. “Grapes. I’ve always wanted someone to feed me grapes.”
He complied, popping the fruit into her mouth. She chewed slowly, deliberately. And when she streaked her tongue across her bottom lip, Marc’s jeans grew unbearably tight.
He picked up the glass of wine and offered it to her. “Would you care for something to drink now?”
She nodded and he held the glass to her lips and in his haste, inadvertently tipped it too far and missed the mark. The liquid ran down her chin and onto the front of her pale pink T-shirt. When he muttered an apology and reached for a napkin, she said, “Don’t use that.”
He dropped the napkin and locked into her gaze. “What would you wish me to use?”
“Your imagination, and if that doesn’t work, your mouth will do.”
Marc decided he could quite possibly lift the table with the strength of his erection when Kate crossed her arms over her chest then pulled her T-shirt over head, leaving her clad in only a white lace bra and jeans.
He stood, leaned over the table then slowly licked the scarlet path down her chin, her throat and on to the cleft of her breasts where he paused to outline the necklace with one fingertip. All the while, Kate kept her hands braced on the arms of the chair as if she might slide away. Marc would definitely not have that.
Once he was through with his thorough cleaning and resettled into his chair, he expected Kate to suggest they forgo the meal and go to the bedroom. Instead, she rose, turned her back to the table and scooted onto the cloth-covered surface, leaning back until she was laid out before Marc like a centerfold. She rolled to her side and faced him, her bent arm and palm providing support for her cheek.
She nodded toward the trays. “You know, that quiche looked really good.”
Marc wasn’t too sure he could find the strength to leave her to get the damn quiche, considering the picture she now presented and his supreme state of arousal. But he forced himself to move back to the end of the table to retrieve a slice of the pie.
He came back to her and offered a heaping forkful. She wagged a finger at him. “This isn’t for me, it’s for you. Unless, of course, you believe that old adage that real men don’t eat quiche.”
“Real men are up for any challenge.” He was definitely up for it.
She sat up and released her bra, tossed it aside then dipped her finger in the filling to paint a design around and between her breasts.
Truthfully, Marc didn’t care for the dish, but he would put aside his tastes for a taste of this woman who surprised him at every turn. After Kate lay back, he had no trouble removing the quiche trail with his mouth, pausing to sample her nipples that peaked to perfection as he suckled them with a slow pull of his lips. He continued his course down her torso, thinking the very best was yet to come.
When he stood and walked to the end of the table, Kate braced on her elbows and stared at him with dismay. “Is the party over?”
“It’s only beginning. Sit up.”
She did as he asked and he tugged her legs forward so he could reach the buttons on her jeans. He released them then pulled the denim down her legs until she was left wearing only white lace panties and a devilish smile.
“I personally favor the chocolate mousse,” he said.
She swallowed hard. “I agree. It’s very good.”
“And I will endeavor to be very good, too, Kate.” He went back to the spread of food and picked up the entire bowl of dessert. When he came back to Kate, he swirled his finger in the mousse then held it to her lips. She took his finger into her mouth and withdrew it slowly with an added flick of her tongue across the tip.
It was all Marc could do not to throw the bowl across the room and take her right there. Instead, he moved back to the end of the table and painted the inside of her legs with the chocolate dessert. He definitely preferred this to the quiche and after placing the bowl on the chair, he went to work enjoying every last bite.
He started at Kate’s ankle, working his way up to her knee then on to the crease of her thigh. He moved to her other leg and did the same until all the dessert had disappeared.
He straightened to find Kate watching him, her breasts rising and falling with every ragged breath, her eyes clouded with need.
“What would you like me to sample now, Kate?”
“Anything that suits your fancy.”
He took her hands and pulled her forward until her legs dangled completely over the edge of the table. “Anything?”
She sighed. “Anything.”
He slid h
er panties away. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
He started with her mouth, sweeping his tongue inside to savor the piquant taste of wine and the sweet taste of Kate. He moved to her breasts, feasting on one, then the other, while Kate firmly planted her hands on his head, following his movements. He ended by taking a seat in the chair Kate had occupied and centering his attention on the soft shading between her thighs, first testing the territory with his fingertips, then with his mouth. He had imagined doing this to her, only to hold back until he thought the time was right. The time was definitely right.
Kate thought she might totally fade away into a carnal void, or bolt off the table at the first sweep of Marc’s tongue. She thought she might demand that he stop because it was almost too much to bear, the intensity of the sensations as he explored her with more finesse that she’d ever thought possible. She thought she might actually scream when he slipped a finger inside her, then two, while he continued working his magic with his incredible mouth.
This kind of intimacy made her feel so open, so vulnerable, yet in some ways so free. She simply gave in to the moment, gave herself over to the feelings, the building pleasure facilitated by Marc, who knew exactly what he was doing—and what he was doing to her. He was completely possessing her, and she willingly relinquished all control. She had no choice.
The orgasm hit her fast and furiously, sapping her strength, causing her to bow over and rest her head against Marc’s. Never before had she reacted so strongly to a climax. Completely and utterly lost, she rode the waves of pleasure, her whole body trembling with the force of the release, until reality broke through the bliss.
This wild, decadent behavior was so out of character for normally cautious Kate, something she had dared to imagine only in her most secret fantasies. Now Marc DeLoria had brought those fantasies to life, and with that came a few revelations.
She understood all too well why women were drawn to him. He was the ultimate lover. But what she loved about Marc went far beyond his sensual skills. She loved the man who resided beneath the exterior. She loved him with all of her heart and she would always love him, even if he didn’t have a penny to his name or a place in a monarchy. Even if he never loved her.
Kate couldn’t control the sob that escaped her mouth or the ensuing tears that she’d never wanted him to see. But he did see them as he raised his head, confusion and concern calling out from his endless dark blue eyes. Now she was totally open, body and soul, and she hated being that exposed.
He stood, wrapped his arms around her and held her for several moments until she regained some of her composure. Then he lifted her chin and thumbed away a tear.
“Kate,” he said softly. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No, not at all.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
He brushed a kiss across her forehead and framed her face in his palms. “There is no shame in what we’ve done.”
“I’m not ashamed,” she said, followed by a sniff. “I’m just surprised by my behavior. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Do you not think that I know that?”
“I don’t know what you think. You’re hard to read.”
He sighed. “I care a great deal about you, Kate. I only want to give you pleasure and make you feel as good as you make me feel when I’m with you.”
He only wanted to give her pleasure. She’d known this all along, his resistance to commitment. But it didn’t make it any easier for Kate to accept. Regardless, she would take what time they had together and keep it close to her heart and her own feelings close to the vest. “I’m just a little overwhelmed.”
“Are you certain that’s all it is? You’re not usually one to hide your feelings.”
If he knew what she was hiding—that she was in love with him—he would have to make a retraction and probably run like the wind. “I’m okay now. Really.”
“Do you want me to take you back to the palace?”
That was the last thing Kate wanted. These moments with Marc might never come again, and she intended to enjoy each one. “Actually, I want you to take me to bed and ravish me.”
“You’re positive that’s what you want?”
She grinned despite the ache in her heart. “If you think you’re man enough.”
By the time Marc carried Kate into his bedroom, he wasn’t certain he was man enough to give her everything she needed beyond the physical aspects. Her tears had taken him by surprise, caused him to assess where their relationship was leading. Yet with her standing before him bathed in firelight coming from the corner hearth, beautifully naked, he could not think beyond the moment, or consider anything but this time they had now.
He led her to the bed and nudged her onto the edge, then undressed while she watched. As ready as he was to make love to her, he thought it might be best to simply hold her for a time.
He tossed aside the covers and told her, “Climb in.”
She did as he asked and he walked to the opposite side of the bed, then slid between the sheets. Kate settled her head against his shoulder and slid her fingers through the hair on his chest. She paused to stroke his nipples, then moved on to his abdomen, circling her finger in his navel.
This wouldn’t do, Marc decided. Not if he wanted prove to her—and to himself—that he could be in bed with a woman without the sole intent of bedding a woman. “Turn to your side, away from me.”
She raised her head, her hand poised immediately above dangerous ground. “What?”
“Right now I only want to hold you.”
“Hold me?
“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”
“No, not if that’s what you really want.” Her voice sounded tentative.
He brushed a kiss over her lips, keeping it chaste in order to keep his desire in check. “For now, that is what I really want.”
She rolled to her side and he fitted himself to her back, gritting his teeth when she nestled her bottom against him. He draped one arm over her hip then slipped the other beneath his pillow, contacting the condom he’d put there in preparation for this moment. He drew back his hand as if he’d been bit.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked, his cheek resting against hers.
“I’m fine, Marc. You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to do this.” And he did, more than he had realized to this point.
Tonight marked a milestone for Marc DeLoria. He had an incredible, sensual woman in his arms. A woman he wanted so much that he physically hurt from the intensity of his need. Yet he found a certain satisfaction in knowing he was stronger than he’d assumed, than anyone had assumed. And he had Kate to thank for that.
He wanted to tell her again how much she meant to him, this time with more conviction than before. But truthfully, he was almost afraid to tell her, for fear he might be forced to admit to himself that he was that defenseless.
Instead, he held her tighter and simply enjoyed the placid atmosphere—the fragrant floral scent of Kate’s hair, the crackling logs in the fireplace, the cool breeze filtering in from the partially open window at his back.
Just when he felt his body starting to calm, Kate reached back and ran her palm down his hip and his thigh, then back up again. And when she rubbed her bottom against him, he again grew hard as granite. She turned her face toward him and Marc responded by kissing her. A long, deep kiss resurrecting the desire he had for Kate, crushing his determination to only hold her.
With his last ounce of strength, he broke the kiss and buried his face in her hair. “Kate, we—”
“Need to be closer,” she said on a broken breath, then rolled onto her back. “I need to be close to you. I want you inside me.”
Marc gave up his resistance, grabbed the condom from beneath his pillow and tore it open. He had it in place in a matter of moments and rose above Kate. When he guided himself inside her, he was overcome with the feelin
g of completion. He had insulated himself against this very thing for most of his life, and he wasn’t prepared for what he felt at that moment.
He reined in those foreign emotions and kissed her again, holding her closely with his hands beneath her bottom, bringing her up to meet his thrusts.
Sheer pleasure, he thought. Mind-shattering, incredible pleasure.
“You feel so good,” Kate whispered between kisses. “I can’t believe how good.”
“So do you, mon amour,” he whispered.
My love. He had called her his love.
Marc was shaken to the core. He’d learned at a relatively early age how to please a woman, but he’d never resorted to professing love in the heat of the moment. Was this only the heat of the moment, or blind truth staring him in the face?
Kate’s eyes reflected the glow of the firelight, and he saw something there that went beyond physical need. Perhaps she expected more declarations, more than he could give her.
With effort, he slipped from Kate’s body, wanting it to last, to make it a memorable experience for Kate, or so he told himself, when he knew deep down that he was pulling away from the intimacy.
His actions immediately brought about Kate’s protest. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to make this better for you. For us.”
She frowned. “I’m not sure I can stand much better.”
“Roll back to your side, and trust me.”
Kate did as he’d requested, and Marc once more fitted himself against her back, slid his arms around her and pulled her closer.
“Oh, yes,” Kate murmured as he slipped into her welcoming heat again.
He caressed her breasts with one hand and divined the damp, smooth flesh between her thighs with the other, plying her with long, fluid strokes as he moved within her, with her. Marc slowed the pace to regain his bearings. He’d mistakenly believed that by not looking into her eyes, he could distance himself. Instead, he only felt closer to her, totally one with her. Maybe it was time he stop fighting this, fighting her. Fighting himself and his feelings.
