by Jane Porter
The terror of not knowing where she was, of whatever was in the stairwell and what might happen next, made her nearly frantic. Her heart was racing, pounding as if it would burst, and she turned in desperate circles. Where was her room? Why had she even left it? And was that thing in the stairs coming toward her?
There was a thump behind her, and then suddenly something brushed her arm. She screamed. She couldn’t help it. She was absolutely petrified.
“Elizabeth.”
“Kristian.” Her voice broke with terror and relief. “Help me. Help me, please.”
And he was there, hauling her against him, pulling her into the circle of his arms, his body protecting her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“There’s something out there. There’s something…” She could hardly get the words out. Her teeth began chattering and she shivered against him, pressed her face against his cheek, which was hard and broad and smelled even better than it felt. “Scary.”
“It’s your imagination,” he said, his arm firmly around her waist, holding her close.
But the terror still seemed so real, and it was the darkness and her inability to see, to know what it was in the stairwell. If it was human, monster or animal. “There was something. But it’s so dark—”
“Is it dark?”
“Yes!” She grabbed at his shirt with both hands. “The lights have been out for ages, and no one came, and they haven’t come back on.”
“It’s the storm. It’ll pass.”
Her teeth still chattered. “It’s too dark. I don’t like it.”
“Your room is right here,” he said, his voice close to her ear. “Come, let’s get you bundled up. I’m sure there’s a blanket on the foot of the bed.”
He led her into her room and found the blanket, draping it around her shoulders. “Better?” he asked.
She nodded, no longer freezing quite as much. “Yes.”
“I should go, then.”
“No.” She reached out, caught his sleeve, and then slid her fingers down to his forearm, which was bare. His skin was warm and taut, covering dense muscle.
For a long silent minute Kristian didn’t move, and then he reached out, touched her shoulder, her neck, up to her chin. His fingers ran lightly across her face, tracing her eyebrow, then moving down her nose and across her lips.
“You better send me away,” he said gruffly.
She closed her eyes at the slow exploration of his fingertips, her skin hot and growing hotter beneath his touch. “I’ll be scared.”
“In the morning you’ll regret letting me stay.”
“Not if I get a good night’s sleep.”
He rubbed his fingers lightly across her lips, as if learning the curve and shape of her mouth. “If I stay, you won’t be sleeping.”
She shivered even as nerves twitched to life in her lower back, making her ache and tingle all over. “You shouldn’t be so confident.”
“Is that a challenge, latrea mou?”
He strummed her lower lip, and her mouth quivered. The heat in his skin was making her insides melt and her body crave his. Instinctively her lips parted, to touch and taste his skin.
She heard his quick intake when her tongue brushed his knuckle, and another intake when she slowly drew that knuckle into her mouth. Having his finger in her mouth was doing maddening things to her body, waking a strong physical need that had been slumbering far too long.
She sucked harder on his finger. And the harder she sucked the tighter her nipples peaked and her womb ached. She wanted relief, wanted to be taken, seized, plundered, sated.
“Is this really what you want?” he gritted from between clenched teeth, his deep voice rough with passion.
She didn’t speak. Instead she reached toward him, placed her hand on his belt and slowly slid it down to cover his hard shaft.
Kristian groaned deep in his throat and roughly pulled her against him, holding her hips tight against his own. She could feel the surge of heat through his trousers, feel the fabric strain.
Control snapped. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her hard, kissed her fiercely. His lips were firm, demanding, and the pressure of his mouth parted her lips.
She shuddered against him, belly knotting, breasts aching, so that she pressed against him for desperate relief, wanting closer contact with his body, from his thighs to his lean hips to his powerful chest and shoulders. Pressed so closely, she could feel his erection against the apex of her thighs, and as exciting as it felt, it wasn’t enough.
She needed him—more of him—more of everything with him. Touch, taste, pressure, skin. “Please,” she whispered, circling his waist and slowly running her hands up his back. “Please stay with me.”
“For how long?” he murmured, his head dropping to sweep excruciatingly light kisses across the side of her neck and up to the hollow beneath her ear. “Till midnight? Morning? Noon?”
The kisses were making it impossible to think. She pressed her thighs tight, the core of her hot and aching. Years since she’d made love, and now she felt as though she were coming apart here and now.
His mouth found hers again, and the kiss was teasing, light, and yet it made her frantic. She reached up to clasp his head, burying her fingers in his thick glossy hair. “Until as long as you want,” she whispered breathlessly.
She’d given him the right answer with her words, and the kiss immediately deepened, his mouth slanting across hers, parting her lips again and drawing her tongue into his mouth. As he sucked on the tip of her tongue she felt her legs nearly buckle. He was stripping her control, seizing her senses, and she was helpless to stop him.
She’d given him a verbal surrender, she thought dizzily, but it wasn’t enough. Now he wanted her to surrender her body.
CHAPTER TEN
KRISTIAN FELT ELIZABETH shiver against him, felt the curve of her hips, the indentation of her waist, the full softness of her breasts.
He’d discovered earlier she was wearing her hair pulled back, with wisps of hair against her face. Kissing her, he now followed one of the wisps to her ear, and he traced that before his fingers slid down the length of her neck.
He could feel her collarbone, and the hollow at her throat, and the thudding of her heart. Her skin was even softer than he remembered, and he found himself fantasizing about taking her hair down, pulling apart the plaits and letting her hair tumble past her shoulders and into his hands.
He wanted her hair, her face, her body in his hands. Wanted her bare and against him.
“Kristian,” she said breathlessly, clasping his face in her hands.
Instantly he hardened all over again, his trousers too constricting to accommodate his erection. He wanted out of his clothes. He wanted her out of hers. Now.
Elizabeth shuddered as Kristian’s hand caressed her hip, down her thigh, to find the hem of her velvet dress. As he lifted the hem she felt air against her bare leg, followed immediately by the heat of his hand.
She let out a slow breath of air, her eyes closing at the path his hand took. His fingers trailed up the outside of her thigh, across her hipbone to the triangle of curls between her legs.
Tensing, shivering, she wanted his touch and yet feared it, too. It had been so long since she’d been held, so long since she’d felt anything as intensely pleasurable as this, that she leaned even closer to him, pressing her breasts to his chest, her tummy to his torso, even as his fingers parted her cleft, finding the most delicate skin between. She was hot, and wet, and she pressed her forehead to his jaw as his fingers explored her.
She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips, nor the trembling of her legs. She wanted him, needed him, and the intensity of her desire stunned her.
Flushed, dazed, Elizabeth pulled back, swayed on her feet. “The bed,” she whispered breathlessly, tugging on his shirt. They walked together, reaching the bed in several steps.
As they bumped into the mattress Kristian impatiently stripped her dress over her head. “
I want your hair down, too.”
Reaching up, she unpinned her hair and pulled the elastics off the plaits. It was hard to pull her hair apart when Kristian was using her own body against her. With her arms up, over her head, he’d taken her breasts in his hands, cupping their fullness and teasing the tightly ruched nipples.
Gasping at the pressure and pleasure, she very nearly couldn’t undo her hair. She hadn’t worn a bra tonight due to the sheer lace at her bodice, and the feel of his hands on her bare skin was almost too much.
Hair loose, she reached for Kristian’s belt, and then the button and zipper of his trousers. Freeing his shaft, she stroked him, amazed by his size all over again.
But Kristian was impatient to have her on the bed beneath him, and, nudging her backward, he sent her toppling down, legs still dangling over the mattress edge. With her knees parted he kissed her inner thigh, and then higher up, against her warm, moist core. He had a deft touch and tongue, and his expertise was almost more than she could bear. Suddenly shy, she wanted him to stop, but he circled her thighs with his arms, held her open for him.
The tip of his tongue flicked across her heated flesh before playing lightly yet insistently against her core. Again and again he stroked her with his tongue and lips, driving her mad with the tension building inside her. She panted as the pressure built, reached for Kristian, but he dodged her hands, and then, arching, hips bucking, she climaxed.
The orgasm was intense, overwhelming. She felt absolutely leveled. And when Kristian finally moved up, over her, she couldn’t even speak. Instead she reached for his chest, slid her fingers across the dense muscle protecting his heart, up over his shoulder to pull him down on top of her.
His body was heavy, hard and strong. She welcomed the weight of him, the delicious feel of his body covering hers. Her orgasm had been intense, but what she really wanted—needed—was something more satisfying than just physical satisfaction. She craved him. The feeling of being taken, loved, sated by him.
He entered her slowly, harnessing his strength to ensure he didn’t hurt her. Elizabeth held him tightly, awed by the sensation of him filling her. He felt so good against her, felt so good in her. She kissed his chest, the base of his throat, before he dipped his head, covering her mouth with his.
As he kissed her, he slowly thrust into her, stretching his body out over hers to withdraw and then thrust again. His chest grazed her breasts, skin and hair rubbing across her sensitive nipples. She squirmed with pleasure and he buried himself deeper inside her.
Elizabeth wrapped her legs around his waist as his hips moved against her. She squeezed her muscles, holding him inside, and the tantalizing friction of their bodies, the warm heated skin coupled with the deep impenetrable darkness, made their lovemaking even more mysterious and erotic.
As Kristian’s tempo increased, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, she met each one eagerly, wanting him, as much of him as he would give her.
No one had ever made her feel so physical, so sexual, or so good. It felt natural being with him, and she gave herself over to Kristian, to his skill and passion, as he drove them both to a point of no return where muscles and nerves tightened and the mind shut out everything but wave after wave of pleasure in the most powerful orgasm of her life.
For those seconds she was not herself, not Grace Elizabeth, but bits of sky and stars and the night. She felt thrown from her body into something so much larger, so much more hopeful than her life. It wasn’t sex, she thought, her body still shuddering around him, with him. It was possibility.
Afterwards, feeling dazed and nearly boneless, she clung to Kristian and drew a great gulp of air.
Amazing. That had been so amazing. He made her feel beautiful in every way, too. “I love you,” she whispered, against his chest. “I do.”
Kristian’s hand was buried in her hair, fingers twining through the silken strands. His grip tightened, and then eased, and, dropping his head, he kissed her nose, her brow, her eyelid. “My darling English nurse. Overcome by passion.”
“I’m not English,” she answered with a supremely satisfied yawn, her body relaxing. “I’m American.”
He rolled them over so that he was on the mattress and her weight now rested on him. “What?”
“An American.”
“You’re American?” he repeated incredulously, holding her firmly by the hips.
“Yes.”
“Well, that explains a lot of things,” he said with mock seriousness. “Especially your sensitivity. Americans are so thin-skinned. They take everything personally.”
Her hair spilled over both of them, and she made a face at him in the dark. “I think you were the one who was very sensitive in the beginning. And you were attached to your pain meds—”
“Enough about my pain meds. So, tell me, your eyes… blue? Green? Brown?”
She felt a pang, realizing he might never really know what she looked like. She’d accepted it before, but now it seemed worse somehow. “They’re blue. And I’m not that tall—just five-four.”
“That’s it? When you first arrived a couple weeks ago I was certain you were six feet. That you made Nurse Burly—”
“Hurly,” she corrected with a muffled laugh.
“Nurse Hurly-Burly seem dainty.”
Elizabeth had to stifle another giggle. “You’re terrible, Kristian. You know that, don’t you?”
“So you and a half-dozen other nurses keep telling me.”
Grinning, she snuggled closer. “So you really had no clue that I was raised in New York?”
“None at all.” He kissed the base of her throat, and then up by her ear. “So is that where home is?”
“Was. I’ve lived in London for years now. I’m happy there.”
“Are you?”
“Well, I don’t actually live in London. I work in Richmond, and my home is in Windsor. It’s under an hour’s train ride each way, and I like it. I read, take care of paperwork, sort out my day.”
He was stroking her hair very slowly, leisurely, just listening to her talk. As she fell silent, he kissed her again. “My eye specialists are in London.”
She wished she could see his face. “Are you thinking of scheduling the eye surgery?”
“Toying with the idea.”
“Seriously toying…?”
“Yes. Do you think I should try?”
She considered her words carefully before answering. “You’re the one that has to live with the consequences,” she said, remembering what Pano had said—that Kristian needed to have something to hope for, something to keep him going.
“But maybe it’s better to just know.” He exhaled heavily, sounding as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “Maybe I should just do it and get it over with.”
Elizabeth put her hand to his chest, felt his heart beating against her hand. “The odds…they’re not very good, are they?”
“Less than five percent,” he answered, his voice devoid of emotion.
Not good odds, she thought, swallowing hard. “You’re doing so well right now. You’re making such good progress. If the surgery doesn’t turn out as you hoped, could you cope with the results?”
He didn’t immediately answer. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I don’t know how I’d feel. But I know this. I miss seeing. I miss my sight.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“And I’d love to get rid of the cane. I don’t like announcing to the world that I can’t see. Besides, I’m sure I look foolish, tapping my way around—”
“That’s a ridiculous thing to say!” She pulled away, sat up cross-legged. “First of all, the cane doesn’t look foolish, and secondly, it’s not about appearances, either. Life and love shouldn’t be based on looks. It’s about kindness, courage, humility, strength.” She paused, drew an unsteady breath. “And you have all those qualities in abundance.”
With that, power restored, the lights suddenly flickered and came on.
Elizabeth lo
oked down at them, aware that Kristian couldn’t see what she could see and that she should have been embarrassed. They were both naked, he stretched out on his back, she sitting cross-legged, with his hand resting on her bare thigh. But instead of being uncomfortable she felt a little thrill. She felt so right with him. She felt like his—body and soul.
“The power’s back,” she said, gazing at Kristian, soaking up his dark erotic beauty. His black hair, the strong classic features, impossibly long eyelashes and that sensual mouth of his. “We have lights again.”
“Am I missing anything?” he drawled lazily, reaching for her and pulling her back on top of him.
As she straddled his hips he caressed the underside of her breast, so that her nipple hardened and peaked. The touch of his hand against her breast was sending sharp darts of feeling throughout her body, making her insides heat, and clench, and begin to crave relief from his body again.
“No,” she murmured, eyes closing, lips helplessly parting as he tugged her lower, allowing him to take her nipple into his mouth. His mouth felt hot and wet against the nipple, and she gripped his shoulders as he sucked, unable to stifle her whimper.
Her whimper aroused him further. Elizabeth could feel him grow hard beneath her. And all she could think was that she wanted him—again. Wanted him to take her—hard, fast—take her until she screamed with pleasure.
He must have been thinking the same thing, too, because, shifting, he lifted her up, positioned her over him and thrust in. She groaned and shivered as he used his hands to help her ride him. She’d tried this position years ago and hadn’t liked it, as she hadn’t felt anything much but foolish, and yet now the positions and their bodies clicked. Elizabeth’s cheeks burned hot, and her skin glowed as they made love again.
She came faster than before, in a cry of fierce pleasure, before collapsing onto his chest, utterly spent.
Her heart hammering, her body damp, she could do nothing but rest and try to catch her breath. “It just keeps getting better,” she whispered.
