Finger Prints

by Barbara Delinsky

  Whatever fears she’d once had of exposure were pushed aside by the sheer pleasure of being with Ryan. He was the consummate escort, mixing easily with her friends, drawing her into an easy mix with his. It wasn’t boredom that moved them from one party to the next with speed; contrary to expectation, the company was relaxed and pleasant. Rather, their momentum was spurred by anticipation. When they hit the air after leaving the second party, that anticipation was enough to leave them breathless.

  Wordlessly Ryan helped Carly into the car, circled to his side and joined her. Leaning over the center console, he kissed her once. His ardor was barely leashed; she could sense the tension in his body. Then he held back to look at her, giving her one last chance to demur. When she lifted a hand to stroke his neck, he had his answer.

  He started the car and they were on their way. Reaching over, he took her hand and held it tightly. Carly’s insides quivered. She clutched his fingers as though they were the only real things in existence and didn’t take her gaze from his face until they’d left the lights of Boston behind and were headed down Memorial Drive. Then she closed her eyes and tried to contain the excitement that set each of her nerve ends on fire. She tried to blame her condition on the potent punch she’d drunk, but knew she couldn’t. She tried to blame it on the fact of seeing Ryan with her friends, but struck out there too. There was one cause for the shimmering current of heat in her veins, and one cause alone. She was with Ryan now, for the night.

  It was only when she assumed they were nearing home that she dared open her eyes again. To her surprise, they’d passed their building and were heading north on Route 2.

  “Where are we going, Ryan?” she asked cautiously. He must have made reservations for a late supper. But she was stuffed. Between the two parties, there had been hors d’oeuvres to feed an army.

  “You’ll see,” was his quiet reply. And he drove on, holding her hand, eyes glued to the road.

  Carly’s were too. They passed through Fresh Pond, ruling out two restaurants there that she knew, then sped through Arlington and Belmont to the northbound ramp onto Route 128.

  “Ryan?” Looking at him, she thought his features were tense. In turn she was puzzled. But he simply lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a firm kiss to her fingers.

  “Shh. Just relax.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Farther north.”

  “To a restaurant?”

  “In good time.”

  If he’d meant to reassure her, his words did anything but. For an instant, Carly felt a surge of raw fear. Then, dismissing it as irrational, she concentrated on watching the highway. But when Ryan turned onto Route 3, still heading north, she couldn’t contain her apprehension.

  “Where are we going?” she demanded, tearing her hand from his as she sat straighter. She recalled the first time she had ever run with Ryan, when she’d been well aware of how easily he might hoist her over his shoulder and carry her off. Over the weeks, she’d come to trust him completely. Suddenly she wondered if she’d been wrong, if she’d misinterpreted every clue, if she’d seen and heard only what she’d wanted to see and hear. Heart thudding, she watched as he shot her a fast glance. Between her own terror and the dark, she couldn’t see his perplexity. Only the tautness of his profile was clear, and that upset her further.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” he said evenly, gripping the wheel with both hands.

  “You have. Where are we going?” She clutched the handle of her door, whether in support or poised for flight she didn’t know. The latter was an absurd notion, since the car was traveling at the speed limit.

  Suddenly that speed diminished and Ryan pulled up on the shoulder of the road. Everything around them was dark as pitch. Though he couldn’t see her fear, he could feel it in the vibrations that came his way.

  “I rented a place in Vermont for the night. There’s a beautiful—”

  “You what?”

  “Rented a place. What’s the matter, Carly?” he asked, bewildered and slightly frightened by her reaction. She had to have known what the evening would bring, and he’d only hoped to make it more idyllic. “I thought you’d be pleased.” Mixed with the greatest gentleness was a note of hurt in his voice. “There’s a beautiful inn in the middle of the woods with cottages strewn all around. I rented one of them. You’ll like it. The inn has a terrific restaurant, and if we don’t feel like going outside, they’ll bring food to us. I stayed there once before. Right after my divorce, when I needed to get away. It was lonely then. I’ve been looking forward to being there with you.”

  “A…cottage?” she whispered, beginning to feel foolish. If he was planning on doing her harm, he could as easily have done it right here in the dark without having to fabricate a story about an inn in the woods, a cottage and room service. Moreover, if he was lying, he had to have been an actor of Oscar caliber to exude such sincerity. “You rented a cottage?”

  “Yes. The thought came to me while you were in the Bahamas, when I had nothing to do but daydream. I’d been wondering when I could get you up there. Yesterday, when you agreed to go out with me tonight, when you seemed as…eager as me…I called and booked the place.”

  “You did?” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, unbelievably relieved and at the same time incredibly excited.

  “Like I said—” he reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers “—I wanted it to be a surprise. Instead, I seem to have scared the hell out of you. Why, Carly? You don’t have any cause to be scared with me.”

  The hurt was in his voice again, and Carly hated herself for putting it there. She tipped her cheek toward his hand, covered that larger, stronger one with her own. “I know,” she murmured, then turned her face and kissed his palm. “I know, Ryan.” She inhaled the musky scent of his skin and gained strength. “But I can’t help myself sometimes. And tonight, well….” Her eyes met his over their hands; even the darkness couldn’t dim their gleam of longing. In a final gesture of apology for all she’d thought but not expressed, she leaned forward with an invitation that Ryan accepted instantly.

  With both hands he framed her face, kissed her deeply, then pulled back. “You’ll come with me?”

  “Yes.”

  He kissed her once more before letting her relax back in her seat and starting the car. Again he held her hand, this time more gently and with reassuring warmth. They’d driven for another half hour before either spoke, and then it was Carly whose eagerness got the best of her.

  “How far is it?”

  “Another hour and a half.”

  “And you didn’t think I’d ask questions?” she teased.

  “I half thought you might have fallen asleep, what with all that booze. Actually I should have gagged and blindfolded you.” At her helpless shudder, he squeezed her hand. “Just joking, just joking. Don’t like surprises?”

  “Not much.” Particularly regarding gags and blindfolds. But she couldn’t dwell on that when her thoughts were on a mysterious cottage and the fact that she’d be spending the night there with Ryan, waking in his arms. “Ryan! I don’t have any clothes!”

  “I do,” was his smug reply.

  “That’s fine. So while you’re dressed freshly in jeans and a sweater, I’ll be wearing a wrinkled silk dress?”

  His laughter shimmered through the car. “I’ve got clothes for you too.”

  “Clothes for me?”

  “I went shopping this morning.” He raised one brow and darted her a glance. “Hope I guessed right on sizes.”

  She laughed. “I hope you did, too.” Regardless, she was pleased as punch that he’d shopped for her, that he’d taken the time, that he’d thought everything out. Abduction schemes took great planning, whether evil minded or not. And since this one was so very clearly benevolent, verging on the divine, she fully appreciated it.

  Tucking Ryan’s hand between both of hers, she laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, clearing her mind of all but
the most exciting of thoughts. Ryan naked…how would he look? Her naked…would he be pleased? She turned her head to the side and peered at him. His profile was every bit as strong as she already knew his body to be. When he cast her a quick smile, she felt her insides quiver.

  And quiver. The ride seemed endless. They paused at one toll booth, then a second. She was grateful to be sitting. Her legs felt like rubber, as if she’d just completed a twenty-mile run. In a sense, she had. The decision she’d reached was a momentous one. She prayed she was doing the right thing.

  Leaving the highway at last, Ryan turned onto a local road that took them more deeply into the heart of Vermont. The way was dark. Only the occasional car crossed their path. Had Carly been alone, she might have been terrified. A breakdown here, and a person was truly helpless. But she wasn’t alone. Ryan was with her. As though reading her thoughts, he gave her hand a quick shake.

  “Hungry?” he asked quietly. “We could stop for something.”

  “No. I’m fine,” she whispered, heart pounding.

  Several minutes later they turned in at a private lane. An elegant country home loomed before them, strategically lit by a rash of spotlights and seasonal bulbs. “The inn,” Ryan said and carefully directed the car around the main building and onto a narrow path. “The cottages are around this way.”

  “Don’t we have to check in?”

  “I did by phone this afternoon. They’re expecting us. They’ve left a key at the door.”

  As he spoke, the headlights of the car fell on a small cabin, its front light as welcoming as the golden glow from within. Braking, he killed the engine. Then he was out of the car and at her side to help her out. His arms lightly circled her. He studied her face, lit by the warm porch beacon, his gaze shifting rapidly over her in excitement, apprehension and a bit of disbelief that she was actually with him.

  “Carly, are you sure?” he asked. The faint tremor in his limbs was telling. She realized that she hadn’t been alone in the frustration of the drive. He touched her face tentatively, tracing her features with an unsteady hand, nervously smoothing her hair back from her cheek. “I know I’m probably rushing you, but I want you so badly.” He hesitated. “Frightened?”

  “A little,” she whispered.

  “That makes two of us.” He took a broken breath. “You know that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

  Her breath came in short gasps. Not even the cold night air could check the flow of heat suffusing her limbs. Her body was hot and alive, aching for Ryan’s. The height of her own arousal was as frightening as anything—and they’d barely begun! She never dreamed she could feel this way. “I know.”

  “We’ll take it slow, okay?”

  When she swallowed and nodded, he brought her to his side and led her to the door, where he left her for an instant to lean toward an old oak swing suspended from the porch overhang. “They said they’d put the key on a nail.” His hand searched the back of the swing. “Here it is.” Then the door was open and he led her inside, where she saw that the glow that had beckoned came from a warm fire blazing in the hearth.

  “Oh, Ryan,” she exclaimed softly, “this is beautiful.” They were in a small living room. A cushiony sofa and two equally soft chairs stood on either side of the fireplace. Before it lay a thick area rug.

  Placing the most promising whisper of a kiss on her neck, Ryan slid her coat from her shoulders. “Let me go out for the bags,” he breathed against her skin. “I’ll be right back.”

  Not daring to look behind, Carly stepped toward the fire. Its warmth filled the void where Ryan had been, yet without him by her side, she couldn’t help but have a moment’s unease. Although she’d sworn she wouldn’t get emotionally involved with any man, she’d done it. She was here, in an isolated cabin in the woods, with Ryan, and despite everything that told her she was courting trouble, she couldn’t help herself. It was almost as though the loneliness she’d suffered over the past months had been nothing more than a preliminary to needing Ryan. Almost….

  She heard the trunk of the car slam shut, then Ryan’s footsteps on the stairs, the porch. The cabin door closed, a bolt clicked. She wrapped her arms around herself, terrified in that instant of what she was about to do, half wishing she was back alone in her apartment where everything was safe and secure and predictable.

  Then Ryan came up from behind and slid his arms around her, and she knew she didn’t want to be alone. She wanted to be with him more than anything in the world. His body was her safety, his arms her security, his warm breath by her ear as predictable as his gentle words.

  “Don’t be frightened, babe. We’ll do it right this time. Eyes open. No dark shadows.” Slowly he turned her, speaking with infinite tenderness. “I don’t know what it is that haunts you, but tonight is ours. I won’t let anything come between us.”

  Carly felt herself captured and held. “Oh, Ryan,” she whispered, “You’re so good. So patient. I don’t want anything to come between us either.”

  “It won’t. You’ll see. It’ll be as beautiful as anything you’ve ever known.” His deep voice quavered under the same restraint that held his body taut. Lowering his head, he sought her lips, kissing them slowly, then with greater urgency as her response to him burgeoned. He devoured every inch of her mouth, his tongue stroking hers, plumbing deeper for her essence. When he finally drew back, they were both short of breath.

  He cleared his throat and cast a reluctant glance to the side. “They left us champagne, I think. Would you like some?”

  She shook her head. She was high on Ryan alone, and the ache deep inside her demanded something headier than even the finest of bubblies.

  “Carly,” he whispered, adoration obvious in his face, “Carly.” His hands caressed her back, bringing her even closer. He kissed her softly, lingeringly, once, then again. “What would you like?” he asked, seeming strangely to gain patience, knowing she was his at last.

  At first Carly didn’t know what to say. The last time things had just…happened.

  “Tell me, sweetheart,” he urged in a whisper. “I want to know what you like.”

  She’d never been one to verbalize her feelings when it came to making love. But everything with Ryan was so different. And her need was so great.

  “I like it when you touch me,” she responded in a shy voice.

  “Like this?” he asked, moving his hands on her back.

  “Mmm.” But she wanted more; the quickening of her breath told him so. His hands roved farther, caressing her shoulders, sliding down her sides to her hips and her thighs, inching upward and inward.

  “Like this?”

  Her answer was a soft moan. He watched the pleasure on her face, felt the way her body arched into his, and though her hands gave no caress but simply clutched his shoulders for support, he felt more aroused by the minute. Not that he’d started out cold; the heat had been building for hours, no, days. The evening’s festivities with Carly by his side had been a potent aphrodesiac, the two-hour drive further intoxicating. Knowing what was coming, wanting it, needing it, yet being forced to sit and suffer simply thinking about it mile after mile, had been a sweet torment on which he now took revenge.

  “Let me take your dress off,” he whispered.

  Her pulse leaped, and she nodded, her gaze held steadily by his as he put several inches between them and worked slowly at the buttons, then the belt of her silk dress. His eyes dropped as he slid the fabric from her shoulders and let it slither to the floor. She was wearing a lacy slip that outlined her curves, clinging to her pert breasts, her slim waist, her gently flaring hips.

  “So lovely.” His voice was a thick murmur as he took in all before him, and it was Carly’s turn to be aroused by her lover’s pleasure. His fingers slid over the silken fabric, moving upward from her thighs to span her waist, then cup her breasts. His thumbs rolled over their crests until her nipples strained outward. Shaken by a jolt of raw desire, Carly bit her lip and moaned, letting he
r head fall back and her eyes close as she sagged forward against him, her legs suddenly useless.

  But Ryan refused to let passion claim her so easily. “Carly,” he whispered, “look at me.” He had to repeat it before she complied, her eyes dazed and heavy lidded. “You like that?” His thumbs continued their devastating caress.

  “Oh, yes,” she whispered.

  “What else, babe? What else would you like?”

  Breathing shallowly, she struggled to concentrate. There was one thing she wanted badly. “I’d like you to undress,” she heard herself say, and would have been appalled at her forwardness had it not been for the rasping shudder that shook Ryan’s body.

  “God, Carly,” he cried, wrapping her in his arms, crushing her hips against his hardness, “you’re so special!” He’d said it before; he couldn’t say it enough. There was an innocent passion about her that nearly drove him mad. Sensing an imminent loss of control, he stepped back and took several deep gulps of air before shrugging out of his jacket and tugging at his tie.

  Deprived of his support, Carly sank to her knees on the thick rug, mesmerized by his every movement as though he were a god—more and more with each piece of clothing he removed. Tossing his tie carelessly onto the chair, he attacked the buttons of his shirt and threw that too aside. She had only time enough to begin to marvel at his broad, hair-strewn chest when his hands went to the buckle of his belt, then the fastening of his pants and its zipper. He’d stepped out of his shoes in time to thrust the pants from his legs, taking his socks off with the swoop. Then he stood before her in nothing but a slim pair of briefs that did nothing to hide the turgid rise of his sex.

  Carly held out her hands then and he came to her. With a strangled sigh, she buried her face against the lean plane of his stomach and held him tightly, tightly, her breasts cushioning his tumescence. She ran eager hands over the taut muscles of his buttocks and down the backs of his thighs, aware of the throbbing against her and incited by it.