"Of course you do—anyone would! She walked out on you, then practically before your eyes lavished her attention on her next son…"
"Stop it," he teased, "or you'll have me in tears."
With quiet gravity Lauren said, "I was crying for the boy you were then, not for the man you are now. Despite everything that happened—no, because of it—you became a strong, independent man. Actually, the one to pity is your half brother."
Nick chuckled. "You're right—he's an ass."
Lauren ignored his humor. "What I meant was that you've succeeded on your own, without wealthy parents to help you. That makes you a bigger man than your half brother."
"Is that why I'm bigger?" he joked. "I always thought it was in my genes. You see, my father and grandfather were both tall…"
"Nick, I'm trying to be serious!"
"Sorry."
"When you were young, you must have dreamed of becoming as rich and successful as your mother's husband and her son."
"Richer," Nick confirmed. "And more successful."
"So you went to college and got your engineering degree," Lauren concluded. "Then what did you do?"
"I wanted to start my own business, but I didn't have enough money."
"That's a shame," Lauren said sympathetically.
"That's also enough of my life history for now," he finished evasively. "We're almost home."
8
« ^ »
The warm closeness that had developed between them as they sailed back was still enfolding them as they dined by lantern light on the cedar deck suspended out beyond the bluff.
"Don't bother," Nick said quietly when Lauren stood with the intention of clearing the china and crystal from the table. "The housekeeper will take care of it in the morning." He picked up a bottle of Grand Marnier and poured some liqueur into two fragile glasses. He handed her one, then leaned back in his chair. Raising his glass to his lips, he contemplated her over the rim.
Lauren rolled the stem of her glass between her fingers, trying to ignore the atmosphere of expectation that was hanging over them. Her time was running out; Nick had satisfied their physical hunger, and now he was lazily preparing to satisfy their sexual hunger. She could see it in the way his possessive gaze lingered on her delicate features as she sat across from him, and in his warmly intimate smile when he spoke to her.
She raised her glass and took a fortifying swallow of the orange-and-cognac drink. Any moment he would stand up and take her inside. She glanced up as he lit a cigarette. In the flickering glow of the lantern, his dark handsome features seemed shadowy and almost predatory. A chill that was part fright, part excitement danced up her spine.
"Are you cold?" he asked softly.
Lauren quickly shook her head, afraid that he would immediately suggest they go in. Then she realized he must have seen her shiver, and she added, "I mean I was a little chilly just then, but it's so lovely out here I can't bear to go in yet."
Several minutes later Nick stubbed out his cigarette and moved his chair back from the table. Lauren's heart lurched. She drained her glass and held it toward him. "I'd like a little more."
She saw a flicker of surprise in his expression, but he obligingly poured more Grand Marnier into both their glasses, then he lazed back in his chair again, openly watching her.
Lauren was too jumpy to either meet his gaze or endure it. She stood up, smiled shakily and walked over to the edge of the deck, gazing across the black lake at the lights twinkling in the hills. She wanted to please him always, and in all ways, but what if she failed tonight? Nick was so alarmingly virile and blatantly experienced that her virginity and inexperience might seem like a nuisance to him.
Nick's chair scraped against the wooden deck, and Lauren heard him approach, stopping right behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and she jumped. "You're cold," he murmured, drawing her back against his chest and wrapping his arms around her for warmth. "Is that better?" he asked, his lips against her hair.
The imprint of his legs and thighs pressing against her seemed to rob Lauren of the power of speech. She nodded, and then she trembled uncontrollably.
"You're shivering." His hands shifted to her waist, and he turned her with gentle insistence toward the house. "Let's go inside where it's warm."
Lauren was so nervous that she didn't realize the sliding glass doors Nick led her to were not the ones that opened into the living room until she stepped inside and found herself in a luxurious bedroom decorated in shades of caramel, white and brown. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes on the huge king-size bed across the room. She heard Nick close the glass door with a final, deathlike thud, and her whole body tensed.
His arm slid around her waist from behind, drawing her rigid form against him. With his other hand he brushed away her heavy silken hair, exposing her neck. Lauren's breathing became shallow and rapid as his lips touched her nape, then drifted tantalizingly toward her ear, while his hands began moving lazily over her midriff, sliding upward.
"Nick," Lauren protested inanely, "I—I'm not at all tired yet."
"Good," he whispered, while his tongue sensuously traced the folds of her ear. "Because it's going to be hours before I let you go to sleep."
"What I meant was—" Lauren gasped as his tongue plunged deeply into her ear, sending warmth spreading through her limbs. Weakly, she leaned back against him and felt the bold evidence of his rising passion pressing against her. "What I meant," she clarified shakily, "was that I'm not ready for… for bed yet."
His deep voice acted on Lauren like an aphrodisiac. "I've waited an eternity for you, Lauren. Don't ask me to wait any longer."
The meaning Lauren read into those words banished her last doubts about how deeply he really felt about her, and about the rightness of what she was doing. She made no move to stop him when his hands slipped under her velour top, but when he removed it and turned her in his arms to face him, her heart was racing like a mad thing.
"Look at me," Nick coaxed softly.
Lauren tried to lift her eyes to his and couldn't. She swallowed convulsively.
Sliding both hands into the sides of her hair, Nick turned her face up to his, his mesmerizing gray eyes gazing deeply into hers. "We're going to do this together," he said quietly. Taking her hand, he placed it against the front of his shirt. "Unbutton my shirt," he urged gently. Somewhere in the chaotic turbulence that was her mind, Lauren realized that Nick apparently thought she was hesitating because her other less experienced lovers hadn't taught her the proper preliminaries for lovemaking, and that he was now trying to coach her.
Lauren's curly lashes flickered down, casting shadows on her flushed cheeks as she did his bidding with fingers made clumsy by a mixture of panic and joy. He deftly unhooked her lacy bra, and she slowly undid each of his buttons, unknowingly heightening his excitement by her slowness.
Her fingers moved of their own volition, pushing his shirt open, exposing his bronzed, muscular chest. He was so beautiful, and he was hers to touch, Lauren thought, so intoxicated with the knowledge that she scarcely noticed when he slipped her bra off her arms.
"Touch me," Nick ordered hoarsely.
She required no more urging and no more instruction. Guided by love and instinct, she slid her hands sensuously through the dark hairs of his chest, and leaned forward to kiss his hard, muscular flesh. A shudder ran the length of his body at the first brush of her lips, and his free hand sank into the soft hair at her nape, tilting her face up to his. For a moment he just gazed at her, his eyes smoldering with the desire he was holding back, and then he bent his head.
His lips were warm and exquisitely gentle at first, tasting and shaping hers. And then they slowly parted, and his tongue began to explore her mouth with a languorous hunger that drove Lauren mad with pleasure.
She arched against him, her hands gliding over his bare chest, and he lifted his head. His flaming gray eyes burned into hers, seeing his own desire reflected in their blue depths. He drew a labor
ed breath, visibly trying to slow his passion, and lost the battle. "God, I want you!" he said fiercely, and his demanding lips crushed down on hers, his tongue parting her lips and driving into her mouth in a kiss that sent fire exploding through her body.
Lauren moaned, molding herself to his hardened thighs, and his hands moved over her, sliding up the sides of her breasts, her back, then lower, forcing her hips tighter to the throbbing heat of his swollen manhood.
The world tilted as he swept her up into his arms, his mouth devouring hers while he moved her onto the bed, following her down and covering her with his body.
His hands cupped her naked breasts, arousing her nipples into aching tightness before his lips closed on them. His lips came back to hers, and he opened her mouth hungrily with his own, his knowledgeable hands exploring and exciting and tormenting her, bathing her senses in a kaleidoscope of fiercely erotic pleasures that sent hot need pulsing through every nerve in Lauren's throbbing body.
He shifted on top of her, and something wild and fierce stirred deep within her, ready to welcome him. But the moment his knee wedged its way between her legs to spread them apart, Lauren's entire body jerked into rigid, involuntary alarm. "Nick!" she gasped, clamping her legs together. "Nick, wait I—"
He overruled her belated refusal with two hoarse words: "Don't, Lauren."
The ache in his voice shattered her resistance, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his broad shoulders, drawing him to her as her hips lifted to greet him. Nick plunged full-length into her, burying himself into her welcoming softness with a deftness that gave Lauren only an instant of pain, a pain that was forgotten as he began to move with tormenting slowness within her.
"I've only been waiting a few days for you, but it feels like an eternity," he rasped, and began steadily increasing the tempo of his driving plunges, pushing her closer and closer to her peak, until Lauren's love and passion finally exploded into shuddering ecstasy. Nick tightened his arms around her and with one final plunge, he joined her in the wild, sweet oblivion where he had sent her…
Dreamily descending from the misty euphoria where she was floating, sated and happy, Lauren slowly became conscious of the warmth emanating from Nick's body beside her, and the weight of his hand resting atop her stomach. But as she lay there, a vague uneasiness slowly crept into her fogged mind. She tried to shut it out, to keep it from disturbing the bliss of the moment, but it was too late. She remembered that Nick had been holding her tightly in his arms, his body driving into hers when he had whispered, "I've only been waiting a few days for you, but it feels like an eternity."
Lauren's boneless contentment gave way to harsh reality. She had misinterpreted what Nick had meant when he told her he'd been waiting an eternity for her. What he meant was that the few days he'd had to wait to make love to her seemed like an eternity. It didn't change the way she felt about him, but it made her uneasy.
Had he noticed her virginity? How would he react? What if he asked her why she had decided to make love with him? She certainly couldn't tell him the truth yet—that she was in love with him, and she wanted him to love her.
Lauren decided she would have to avoid the subject altogether. Hesitantly she opened her eyes.
Nick was lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, gazing intently at her face. He looked puzzled, dubious, and distinctly amused…
He had noticed. And judging from his expression, he intended to discuss it.
Lauren rolled away from him and hastily sat up, keeping her back to him. Reaching for his discarded shirt at the foot of the bed, she plunged her arms into the sleeves in an effort to cover her nakedness. I'd love some coffee," she mumbled, seizing on that as an excuse to escape his questions. "I'll make it." She stood up and looked at him, then flushed as his warm gaze slid down her long, shapely bare legs before lifting to her face.
Never had she felt as self-conscious as she did at that moment standing there, stark naked under his voluminous shirt. "You… you don't mind sharing your shirt, do you?" she asked, fumbling with the buttons.
"I don't mind at all, Lauren," he solemnly replied, but with a gleam of laughter in his eyes. His amusement was so unnerving that Lauren's hands began to shake. Concentrating on rolling up the shirt cuffs, she asked, "How do you like it?"
"Exactly the way we did it."
Her gaze shot to his face and the blush on her cheeks deepened. "No," she corrected with a quick, nervous shake of her head. "I meant, how do you like your coffee?"
"Black."
"Do… do you want some?"
"Some what?" he asked suggestively, grinning wickedly at her.
"Some coffee!"
"Yes, thanks."
"For what?" she quipped jauntily, then she pivoted on her heel and hastily left before he could reply.
Despite her bravado when she'd left the bedroom, she felt precariously close to tears as she walked into the kitchen and turned on the lights. Nick was laughing at her, and she had never expected that sort of reaction from him. Had she been that inept, that amusingly inexperienced?
Behind her, she heard Nick walk into the kitchen, and she quickly busied herself spooning coffee into the percolator. "Why are these cupboards so empty? Except for what we ate tonight, there's no food."
"Because the house is being sold," Nick replied. His hands settled firmly on her waist, drawing her against him until the denim of his jeans pressed against the backs of her bare legs. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked her quietly.
"Tell you what?" Lauren hedged.
"You know damned well what."
She stared out the window over the sink. "I forgot about it, actually."
"Wrong," Nick chuckled. "Try again."
"Because the subject never came up," she said with an indifferent shrug, "and because I didn't think you'd notice."
"The subject never came up," he said dryly, "because twenty-three-year-old virgins in this day and age are rare as hell. And twenty-three-year-old virgins who look like you, rarer still. As far as the rest—well, it was self-evident."
Lauren turned around to face him, her blue eyes searching his. "But before that… that point, you didn't realize that I hadn't… hadn't… before?"
"I had no idea that you were a virgin until it was too late to make any difference to either of us." Putting his arms around her, he added, "But you should have told me you were before we got into that bed."
"If I had told you, would you have changed your mind?" Lauren asked, loving the sound of his voice and the feel of his arms around her.
"No, but I would have been more gentle with you." Leaning back, he stared at her in genuine puzzlement. "Why should I have changed my mind?"
"I don't know," Lauren mumbled uneasily. "I thought you might have some, well, reservations about… about…"
"About what?" he mocked tolerantly. "About 'stealing' something that belongs to your future husband? Don't be ridiculous. He won't expect you to be a virgin; men don't prize virginity anymore. We don't want or expect a woman to be inexperienced. We're liberated too, you know. You have the same physical desires I do, Lauren, and you have the right to satisfy them with whomever you wish."
Lauren cautiously lowered her eyes to the gold medallion hanging on a long gold chain around his neck and asked, "Have you ever cared, really cared, for any of the women in your life?"
"Some of them, yes."
"And you didn't mind if they'd had sexual relationships with lots of other men?"
"Of course not."
"That seems like a very… coldblooded… attitude."
His lids flickered down, his glance lingering on the tantalizing mounds of her breasts. "If I've given you the impression that I'm coldblooded, I think it's time we go back into that bedroom."
Lauren wondered if he was deliberately misinterpreting her use of the word because he wanted to avoid the issue. If he had really cared for those other women, shouldn't he have felt more possessive about them? If he really cared for her, shouldn't he be please
d that he was the only man she'd let make love to her? Lauren raised her troubled blue eyes to his. "Nick?"
He looked down at the delicate young beauty in his arms. Her face was framed in tousled waves of burnished honey, her mouth was soft and generous, and her full breasts were pressed enticingly against his bare chest. His arms tightened around her, and he bent his head. "What?" he murmured, but his mouth opened on hers in a deep, drugging kiss that silenced her voice.
Sometime after dawn, Lauren rolled over and saw Nick's dark head on the pillow beside her. With a dreamy smile of satisfaction, she closed her eyes and sank back into the deep slumber of blissful exhaustion. She did not awaken again until Nick put a cup of coffee on the night table beside her and sat down on the bed.
"Good morning," she said, her smile fading as she realized that he had already showered, shaved and dressed in tailored gray slacks and an open-necked gray shirt. "Is something wrong?" she asked, clutching the sheet to her breasts as she struggled up against the pillows. She felt awkward being stark naked when he was dressed, but Nick seemed unaware of her discomfort. For that matter, he seemed unaware of her nakedness.
"Lauren, I'm afraid we're going to have to cut today short. A… a business associate of mine phoned this morning and will be here in an hour. I'll find another ride back to the city."
Lauren was terribly disappointed, but forty minutes later, as Nick walked her out to her car, her disappointment had grown into confused alarm. Gone was her passionate, seductive lover of the night before. Today Nick was friendly but impersonal, treating her as if they'd spent a pleasant but meaningless night playing cards instead of making love. Or was this the way men always acted afterward? She was probably being oversensitive, Lauren decided, stopping at her car and turning toward him.
She hoped he would take her in his arms and kiss her goodbye. Instead he put his hands in his pockets, looked at her levelly and said, "Lauren, did you take any precautions against the possible consequences of last night?"
Pregnancy! Lauren's face felt as if it was on fire as she shook her head.
Double Standards Page 9