by Pamela Aares
“Let me,” he said with the velvet tones she heard every night in her dreams.
He undid the top buttons. Cool air touched her skin, followed by pure heat as his fingertips traced her collarbone. He lowered his head and tracked kisses down her neck while he worked the rest of her buttons free. He peeled her shirt down and dropped it to the carpet. Her heart pounded when his palms curved along her waist and up her ribcage. He unfastened her bra and tossed it away. She inhaled and closed her eyes as he cupped her breasts and brushed his thumbs across her aching nipples.
“My God, Natasha. What you do to me.”
She opened her eyes at his wavering tone. His lips crushed hers. This was no gentle kiss. She met his thrusting tongue with a hunger of her own. Like a dragon unleashed, power surged in her, and she tore at his T-shirt.
With a moan, he broke off the kiss. She watched his muscles ripple in his arms as he pulled the shirt over his head.
She had to touch his carved abdomen, to trace the thin line of dusky hair that disappeared into his jeans. To feel him under her palms. To touch so that she would always remember this night, for certainly there could be no others. Her hand stilled at his belt buckle but then roved lower to the throbbing proof of his desire. Unable to resist, she stroked the length of him.
He snatched her hand away, his fingers circling her wrist with firm yet gentle force. It had never occurred to her that force could be gentle and alluring. That she’d crave the power it promised.
“If you do that one more time,” Adrian practically growled, “I won’t be able to give you the pleasure I’ve dreamed of since the night we first met.”
So she hadn’t been alone in her dreaming. Maybe some dreams could be trusted.
He lifted her and laid her across the bed. Bending over her, he tracked hot, branding kisses from her neck to the space between her breasts. Her body arched when he took a nipple into his mouth and teased and sucked and made her cry out his name.
She was even more lost when he teased the other nipple, suckling until she forgot where she was. Forgot all but the man at her breast and the pulsing passion rushing through her. Desire surged as the heat of his palm branded her belly. But when he slid his hand under the waist of her jeans and his fingers stroked her sex, pleasure, need, want and dreams rushed together, melding in a wave that took her breath, dissolved her thoughts and engulfed her in a vast sea of merciless sensation.
“Float, Natasha… let me please you.”
His words drew her back. But when she opened her eyes and met his gaze, she knew there was no shore to swim to, no safe place to find shelter from the desire he’d set coursing in her body.
His lips quirked up, first one corner and then the other. She struggled to school her features and respond to his devastating smile, fought to find words to hold on to as the current he’d loosened threatened to carry her away. He was right. There were languages and ways of communicating that had nothing to do with words. And she was lost in the sea of messages and meanings she’d never dreamed could come to life in her.
He moved to kneel at the side of the bed, keeping one palm on her abdomen as if to hold her down, to keep her from flying up, from flying away. With his other hand he eased her jeans down her thighs and pulled them off. Her breath caught as he lifted her legs to straddle his shoulders. He bent down and the heat of his mouth seared through the fabric of her panties. Suddenly self-conscious, she tried to pull her legs off his shoulders, but his forearms clamped her legs in place.
“No.” She barely managed the near-breathless whisper.
He stilled. And then released her. His brows drew together. “No?”
“If I’m naked, I want you naked too.” There had to be something, anything, to balance the power coursing between them.
His lips lifted in a half grin. “That can be easily accomplished.”
He stripped off his jeans and then the tight white briefs under them. His erection sprang free, and she gawked. So much for balancing power. She sat up and reached for him.
“No, Natasha. You mustn’t. Not yet. Relax. Let me give to you.”
The words were simple. And his soft accent made them sound like the seductive refrain of a vampire. But what he asked her to do? Not so simple.
She couldn’t tell him she wasn’t used to anyone giving to her. That she feared letting go. And she couldn’t believe she was in bed with a man who used a word like mustn’t. The thought made her giggle.
“I love that sound.”
“What sound?”
“Your laugh.”
He pressed her back against the bed.
“Let go, Natasha. Just let go. Please. Trust me.”
She loved the sound of her name coming from his lips. His please was no gentle request. Though she knew she had a choice, she really didn’t. The vast sea of bliss, of the aching desire that was its insistent song, would not be tamed. Her body, her soul and her heart overruled the cautions of her mind.
He slipped her panties down her legs, and his fingers tattooed her desire deeper into her core. He kissed the inside of her knee, then her thigh. The faint stubble of his beard abrading against her as he planted warm kisses higher and higher made her shiver. But then she felt his lips against her mound, pressing into her flesh, firmly, as if to tell her he wouldn’t be denied. His tongue circled but didn’t touch the place she most wanted it to. When he circled again, she knew he was teasing her. His fingers parted her, opening her to him. When he closed his lips around her pulsing, most sensitive spot, the moan that escaped her was a far cry from a giggle. He circled his tongue again, and she was sure she would die if she couldn’t catch her breath. His finger pressed into her. She didn’t die. Fear and hope and a strange, terrific ecstasy fired, each sensation melting into the next. She soared, shuddering and releasing. And to her surprise, she let go.
Natasha bucked against Adrian’s lips, arching again and again as his tongue found its mark. With a last gasp, she stiffened and then went limp, her warm bottom resting in his palms. He would’ve died if he hadn’t been able to release her into the bliss of pleasure. But never before had he come up against such a thick wall of fear. Of resistance. But he’d breached her wall, reached through it and taken her with him to the place he’d known she could go. He lifted his head and smiled into the darkness of his room.
Her hands stroked his hair, and she moved to sit up.
“No. Just float.”
“I want more than to float, Adrian. I want you.”
She sat up and before he could stop her, she’d wrapped her hand around his shaft. She tightened her grip, and his erection leaped under the pressure, with the wanting.
“Are you sure? We could wait until you’re more comfortable, until—”
She stroked the length of him, using her thumb to spread the bead of moisture at the tip. Like hell he could wait.
He levered her back onto the bed. Closing first one and then her other hand in his, he held them above her head. He dragged his erection up her thigh, savoring her shiver of anticipation. He pressed himself, teasing, at her opening.
“You’re sure?”
She bucked, trying to send him deeper. And though he wanted nothing more, he eased back onto his heels and slid to the edge of the bed. The drawer of his nightstand creaked as he reached in for a condom. There weren’t any. This wasn’t his bedroom in Rome. How long had it been? Too damned long. His brain raced. Maybe he had an old condom in his shaving kit.
“What are you doing?”
Her hair fell in soft dark curls around her face as she sat up. He bent down and kissed her lips, tweaking a nipple with his thumb and forefinger as he did. “Protection. I’ll be right back.”
He fumbled in the dark bathroom and then switched on a light, dimming it as low as it would go. He tore open his shaving kit and found two crinkled foil packets. He grabbed them both and returned to the bed. She knelt in the middle, a slant of light from the bathroom falling across her face. Her lips were full, swollen from
their kisses, and made her look like a dark angel sent from a sensuous, heavenly realm. He groaned and pulled her into his arms. And knew in that moment that he never, ever wanted anyone else to share his bed. He craved the day when he could tell her, but that admission would have to wait until her trust in him grew.
She eased the foil packets from his hands.
“Were you thinking of using these, or are you going to frame them?”
Without waiting for his answer, she dropped one packet to the bed and tore the other open. She started to roll it onto him, and that was when he knew—she had little experience with men. With condoms. For all her bravado, the trembling in her hands wasn’t only from the aftermath of pleasure. He closed his fingers over hers.
“Let me show you,” he said softly.
He rolled the condom down his shaft, tweaking the reservoir at the tip. If the force of their kisses had shown him anything, he’d need that space when he came, because he’d be coming damn hard. And if she didn’t release her hands from him, he’d be coming sooner than he wanted.
He wrapped his arms around her and tumbled them both across the bed. Rising up to his forearms, he bent down to take her nipple in his mouth. She arched into him as he sucked and teased with his teeth. His erection leaped against her thigh. With a growl he eased her legs apart, then settled his hips between them. His mouth found her lips, and as he kissed her, he tilted his hips until he rested just outside her opening. She pressed her hips up, and he slipped inside an inch. A ball-rocking inch that shattered his resolve to go slow. He thrust, and her heat enveloped him. She cried out against his lips. Concerned that he’d hurt her, he lifted up so he could see her face. He knew she wasn’t a virgin, not with a ten-year-old son, but he also knew the cry of a woman who hadn’t been entered for a very long time.
She must’ve seen his unasked question. “I’m okay,” she breathed out.
He stilled, then moved, but slowly. Her eyes softened, narrowed with pleasure.
“Better than okay.” Her giggle was more soul-touching than the sound of the most profound prayer.
He gathered her in his arms and silently offered his own prayer of gratitude to whatever mysterious power had brought her into his life.
Natasha woke, disoriented. She’d had the dream again. The delicious dream of making love with Adrian. She started to sit up, but an arm pinned her to the bed. She turned her head. Adrian’s dark curls framed his face, the face of a man she’d never imagined existed. The man who had teased feelings from her that she’d have sworn were impossible, the stuff of tales and dreams. But it hadn’t been a dream. Her body and heart had surrendered, and her mind had dropped the battle if only for a few timeless hours. She shivered at the memory.
His eyes opened, focused, and he drew her closer against his chest.
“It’s still dark,” he murmured against her cheek.
“I have to go. I have to pick up Tyler.”
He leaned up and looked at the clock beside his bed.
“At six in the morning?” He stroked the side of her breast as he rolled so that he was above her. She felt him already hard against her belly. “It’s a beautiful spring morning and I have no flowers to present you. But maybe you’ll accept a different token of my affection?”
Thoughts started to roll in her mind. Reasons why she had to get up, had to dress, had to leave. But as he kissed her and stroked her, she found herself reaching for the condom packet pressing into her hip.
“We’ll need this, then,” she said, feeling less brave than she sounded. “And this time I believe I can manage it on my own.”
She slid from under him and knelt, tearing at the package with shaking fingers. He watched as she unrolled the condom, moaned as she pinched at the tip as she’d seen him do in the night. Then with a smile that rose from the core of her heart, she straddled his hips and lowered onto him, crying out his name as he filled her. As they rocked in a half-waking, half-sleeping dreamlike rhythm, she prayed that she’d never forget the bliss that filled her like an unspoken prayer.
Chapter Fifteen
THAT’S THE LAST OF THE BOXES, MRS. RALEY.”
Natasha never corrected the people who assumed she was married. She gave the man Mary had hired to help her move a ten-dollar bill. From his grateful smile, it was as if she’d given him a sack of gold.
Likely he, Enrique, was another of Mary’s projects, another soul Mary had determined would succeed with just a little more help. Natasha watched him pull away in his battered truck and said a silent prayer that he’d find a good job and get back on his feet.
She stood on the small green square of lawn in front of the row of narrow apartments. Her new place was at the very end and had windows not only in the front but also on the side, facing an open field. She would’ve taken any spot in the housing project, but the added light was a bonus.
And though she was excited about the move, about the new apartment she and Tyler could call home, her thoughts were on Adrian. She hadn’t seen him since the morning she’d driven away from his house, the morning after the life-shifting night she’d spent in his arms. She’d heard love had a double edge, that it held pleasure and pain. She hadn’t expected to feel the pain so soon.
Four days had passed. Had she expected Adrian to call? Life at Casa del Sole had ramped into high gear, so maybe he’d been as busy as she had. She’d barely had time for lunch. And even if she’d had the time, her appetite wasn’t there. She’d crossed the line she’d drawn and now she needed to face reality. They’d shared a blissful, delicious night, but nothing more. Adrian probably had experiences like that all the time.
Hauling in a deep breath, she corralled her misgivings and made an effort to shove them away. She needed to focus. She had a few hours to finish unpacking the boxes Enrique had brought from her storage unit. Closed containers that held bits of her former life. She surveyed the mess on the small front porch. Though she and Tyler had few possessions, she wasn’t sure what was in most of the taped cartons. She found herself reluctant to drag items from her past into their new home. But she had to be practical. Buying anything new wasn’t in her budget.
A cheery hello had her turning to see Mary pull up in front of the apartment.
“I see Enrique did his job,” Mary said as she opened her trunk and pulled out a small cardboard box.
“He was great,” Natasha said. “He has the most positive outlook of anyone I’ve met in a long time.”
Mary eyed her. “That’s the key, a positive outlook.” Her eyes twinkled. “I found him a job at your vineyard.”
“It’s not my vineyard.”
Mary laughed. “He starts next week. He’s smart and works hard.”
“You’re an angel in disguise.”
“Hardly.” She handed Natasha the box. “It took some doing, but I finally dug these up. Consider it a house-warming present.”
Natasha opened the box and pulled out an old yellow Walkman. She hadn’t seen one for years.
“I know how the screens of new players are hard for you to work. All you have to do with this is put a tape in and hit this button.”
Natasha pulled out one of the cassette tapes.
“The tapes are old,” Mary said, “but the exercises are effective.”
“Exercises?”
“It’s a program for overcoming dyslexia.”
Natasha found it hard to return Mary’s beaming smile. Everybody had their quick-fix remedy. Even with new stories coming out in the press and with Hollywood stars owning up to being dyslexic, most people still believed that if a person with dyslexia just tried harder, they could overcome their disability.
Mary dug in the bottom of the box and came up with a yellowed pamphlet.
“You just play the tapes and follow along in this book. It worked great for my nephew.”
Natasha hugged Mary. “Thank you. For this”—she nodded to the box of tapes—“and for this.” She swept her arm to the open door of the apartment.
“Let m
e help you unpack.”
If it had been anyone other than Mary, she would’ve refused. But Mary knew her secrets. There was nothing more to hide. Well, almost nothing. Eddie was one secret she didn’t need to share.
They made quick work of placing the boxes in the appropriate rooms. One big room held the kitchen, eating counter and living room. Tyler had his own bedroom in the back, adjacent to hers.
“You need a sofa,” Mary said. “I’ll have Enrique bring the one over from storage at Inspire. It needs a good home.” She turned to gaze out the big window overlooking the lawn. “And you need some flowers out there.”
“The project rules don’t allow for planting except in the boxes dividing the apartment lawns and by the mailboxes.”
“That’s a silly rule.” Mary took Natasha’s hands in hers. “Though I already miss you and Tyler, I love it when my girls move out and get their own places.”
Natasha hugged Mary. And held her. There was truth to the reports that peace could come from a hug. Tears threatened, but after her outburst at Adrian’s, she had them under better control. Or maybe something in her had shifted that night. She felt different, that was for sure.
“I’ll miss you too,” she said as Mary broke off their hug.
“Well, you’re just a few minutes down the road. I’ll be expecting a dinner invitation.”
Mary crossed her arms and tilted her head, holding Natasha in the eagle-eyed gaze that told her a lecture was coming.
