“Sometimes it’s easier to keep the world at a distance.”
“Maybe. But you’re not the world. You said something to me Saturday night, about us. You said that it mattered to you, what we’re doing here. It matters to me, too. And talking to you about this—talking to anyone—scares the hell out of me but I want to do it. For you, and for me.”
“Jillian—”
“Just please, let me talk,” she whispered. It was the prelude but it wasn’t what she needed to tell him. It was the reason but not the story. The hardest part still lay ahead. Gil subsided, waiting quietly, watching her.
“The other night—” she began, and moistened her lips. “The other night—” she said again.
And she was back on the high dive, staring down helplessly at the water. She hadn’t known to just walk without thinking that first time. She’d climbed the ladder, anxiety growing with every rung she passed. Then at the end of the board, she’d stood and stared down at the water with roiling stomach, fear choking her, fear of jumping, fear of turning back.
The same way fear choked her now.
Gil reached over and took her hand. “Talk to me,” he said softly.
She knew she needed to do it but it was so hard, so hard. She took a breath, concentrating on the warmth of his fingers around hers. “You may have noticed that I’m not the most…experienced woman in the world. I haven’t been with a lot of men. Any men,” she corrected, staring down at their linked hands, unable to bear seeing shock, disbelief, pity appear in his eyes. “I’ve kissed but I’ve never had…I never—” She swallowed and forced out the words. “I’m a virgin.”
“All of us were at one time or another.”
His voice was quiet, calm. She gave him a startled glance to find his expression unsurprised. “Not at thirty-three.”
“So you’re a late bloomer,” he said. “It’s not a big deal. The reason why is. With your looks, I imagine you’ve had more than your share of opportunities.”
“Not as many as you’d think.”
“A choice. You’re good at keeping people away. Except for maybe pushy guys like me.”
She found herself smiling. “Except for pushy guys like you,” she agreed, and squeezed his fingers. It was easier to talk touching him, watching the sky beyond the windows turn ruddy with the light of the setting sun.
“So what is the why?” he asked.
She moved her shoulders. “I’ve never known. There have been a couple of times with guys that things started to go beyond a kiss—college, my midtwenties—and it was like what happened with us. One minute I’d be feeling good, the next I’d just panic. It was like something else took over my body. I never understood why and the guys—” she hesitated “—the guys never had much patience with it.”
“I figured something was up when you just shut down.”
“It wasn’t you. What we did felt amazing. It was so good I thought maybe I would finally be okay, maybe I could…But I freaked, the same way I always do.” And she’d been sure that the relationship was done, the same way it always had been before, leaving her to retreat to her burrow like a small, wounded animal.
“Have you ever talked with someone about it?”
She gave a humorless smile. “I’m a licensed social worker. That’s what we do. I’ve had years of therapy.”
“And?”
Now they’d come down to it, the hard part. She took a deep breath. “I didn’t have what you’d call a regular childhood.”
“Were you abused?”
Jillian hesitated. Just do it. But she couldn’t quite go there yet. “Not sexually,” she compromised. “That’s been part of the problem. It’s hard to fix something emotionally when you don’t know what it is.”
“And you know now?”
She nodded slowly. “I think so. Lois helped me understand. I saw something when I was very young, a…couple having rough sex. I don’t remember many other details except that she was crying out.”
“How old were you?”
“Three, maybe four.”
“Pretty intense for a small child.”
What kind of miracle was it that he understood? “I didn’t know what they were doing. And when you’re a child and you see something you don’t comprehend, you frame it in terms of things you do. I thought he was attacking her. And so now I panic.”
Gil put his fingertips to her chin, turned her head so that she was looking at him. “I wouldn’t ever hurt you intentionally, Jillian,” he said quietly. “Do you believe that?”
She put her hand to his cheek. “Yes,” she whispered. “I don’t believe you’d intentionally hurt anyone.”
“So what happens now?”
“Understanding it means being able to deal with it. Maybe knowing why I panic now means I can try to make myself release and get past it.” She swallowed. “I’ve told you because I don’t want it to end with what happened the other night. I’m tired of this. I want more.”
“There is more.”
“I want to know what it’s like.” She summoned up every bit of courage she possessed and pressed her mouth to his, sliding her fingers up through his hair. “Make love with me, Gil,” she whispered against his lips. “I want to know.”
“Ah, Jillian,” he said huskily. “I need to tell—”
She stopped his words with a kiss. “Later,” she said, praying he’d agree because she didn’t know how much longer she could keep up the bravado. “Please?”
He surprised her by sighing. “I really think we should wait until you’re not so upset.”
“I’m not upset anymore.” Even she could hear the trembling in her voice. She unbuttoned her jacket to show the silk-and-lace camisole beneath.
“Jillian, I’m serious. This isn’t the time.”
“Yes, it is.” It had to be. She didn’t know that she would ever find the nerve again. “I need this, Gil. Are you going to make me beg?” She took a breath, prayed for courage and pressed his hand to her breast.
He let out an explosive breath. His fingers twitched against her for an instant. And then he was taking her by the shoulders and moving her away. “No, okay?” he said roughly, and rubbed a hand against his forehead. “Give me a break. There’s only so much I can stand.”
It was like having ice poured over her. She felt herself shrinking in the sudden blast of cold.
There’s only so much I can stand.
He didn’t want her. How had she gotten it so wrong? Somehow, she’d miscalculated. Somehow, she’d misread the signs. She’d been turned on, he’d been waiting for it to be over. She’d been ready to go to bed with him, he’d just been patronizing the basket case. All the while, she could still feel the heat of his hand on her breast. She wanted to disappear into the cushions.
Instead, she rose. “Okay, well, so much for that.” Her voice was brisk. “I should get going.”
“What?” He gave her an incredulous stare as she moved to get her purse. “Wait a minute, you’re not going anywhere.”
“Yes, I am. You’ve been very nice but I’ve taken enough of your time.” She didn’t want to look at him because she had the horrible feeling she would cry. The door, she thought. The door was only a few steps away. If she could get on the other side of it, she’d be okay.
And then she heard two quick steps behind her and he was spinning her around to pull her into his arms and fuse his mouth to hers.
It took her hard and deep, dizzying her for a moment, until she leaned away. “Gil, you don’t have to do this. It’s okay if you don’t want me.”
“Are you out of your mind?” His eyes narrowed and he pulled her to him again. Heat bloomed, as it always did, the arousal billowing up within her. There was nothing of politeness in the kiss. There was an urgency, a demand that coursed from his body into hers until it ignited desire.
He kissed his way over her cheeks, along her jaw, down to her throat. Her purse thudded to the floor. “God, you’re so sexy,” he muttered against her skin. “How cou
ld you think I wouldn’t want you? I’ve wanted you since I laid eyes on you. And we are going to do this. Now.”
He took her by the hand and led her to the stairs.
His bedroom was clean-lined and masculine, with black cabinets and a pewter-colored coverlet pulled down to reveal snowy-white sheets. The lamps were of some dull silvery metal. At the end of the loft, the railing looked out over the living room below.
The nerves had returned in the time it had taken to mount the stairs. Jillian’d been sure of what she wanted when she’d set things in motion, but now, with time to think, anxiety was rising up to swamp the desire. What if she couldn’t get past it and relax? What if she panicked again?
What if she couldn’t please him?
As though he sensed her tension, Gil turned and pulled her to him for a long kiss. “Relax,” he murmured. “We’ve got all the time in the world.” He reached to the wall to snap a switch and a soft nimbus of light began to glow around the perimeter of the room.
“You want the lights on?” she asked unevenly.
“Just a little. I want to see you.” He eased her jacket off her shoulders. “You have no idea how much these suits drive me crazy. They look so demure but then you have this lace showing at the neckline and all I want to do is find out what’s underneath.” He unclipped her hair and plunged his hands into the heavy mass of it. Then he was walking her backward until she could feel the bed against her legs, easing her down onto the coverlet.
For a moment, he looked at her, clad in her silk-and-lace camisole and trousers. “This is real, right? I’m not dreaming this?” Jillian felt the mattress give as he moved onto the bed beside her and leaned over her to press his lips to hers. “Your mouth makes me nuts,” he muttered. “It did from the first time I saw you, out on the street. I look at that bottom lip of yours and I just want it.”
When he kissed her this time, it was with an urgency and demand that sent a thrill spiraling through her. She felt the silk of her camisole slide against her skin as his hand slipped down her back, over her waist, making her shiver, making goose bumps rise. With a groan, he pressed his lips to her throat.
He explored, roving along the smooth column, lingering over the hollow at the base. Jillian slipped her arms around him as he licked his way over the fragile skin of her chest and down lower, until he met the silk and lace of her camisole.
This time when his hand moved up her torso, he grazed her with the back of his hand, running his knuckles up over her silk-covered stomach, over her breast. She caught her breath at the feel of it, her open mouth resting against his own, their heads side by side on the pillow. Then his fingers worked their way under the silk to stroke the bare skin of her belly.
It sent a shiver through her. For a breathless instant his fingers danced over her fabric-covered breasts. And it was maddening, suddenly, to feel only a muted echo of his touch, separated from where she ached for him by the fabric of her bra.
She made an impatient noise, and he laughed softly. “Sounds like we need to get this out of the way.”
He slipped his hands under the camisole and began pulling it up. For an instant, she tensed, and he pressed his mouth back over hers, persuading her with lips and tongue, making her forget self-consciousness in the rush of pleasure.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispered as he eased it off, “so hot. I want to see you.”
She lay with her arms still curved up over her head. Gil moved to whip off his shirt, then sank back down beside her, reaching out to trace his fingertips down her throat, over her collarbones and along the slant of her chest. Nerve by nerve, her body came to thrumming alert. He ran his fingers around the edges of her bra, his touch on her bare skin only making her want more.
Closing her eyes, Jillian let the mix of sensations flow over her as he kissed her, caressed her, loved her.
This time, when he traced his fingers down her body again, she twisted against him, dragging him close for an impatient, needy kiss.
“I guess you want this off,” he said, unsnapping the front clasp of her bra and peeling back first one cup, then another. And, before she could tense, he slipped his hand up over her bare breast in a move of almost shocking intimacy.
Sensation whipped through her, wrenching a gasp from her throat. The wave of pleasure was exquisite. His palm was hard and hot against her sensitive skin. When he squeezed, she twisted against him, making an incoherent noise.
Then he leaned over to press a kiss on her lips, laying his upper body atop hers.
The feel of his naked chest against her own was exquisite, a warm intimacy, a startling immediacy. Self-consciousness was forgotten in the sheer fascination of the touch.
Then he began to rove again, not with his hands, this time but his mouth. He brushed his lips down over the thin skin at the top of her breasts and her nipples tingled with want. He circled the tip of his tongue around the areola of first one breast, then the other, until she was quivering with suppressed excitement. He kept tracing the warm, wet trail inward and farther inward until she was arching toward him.
Then suddenly he put his open mouth on the sensitive peak.
Jillian cried out and bucked against him. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before. His mouth was hot and determined. His tongue swirled against her, sending bursts of pleasure through her. And though his mouth was touching only there, she felt the answering tug below.
She was a delight, a wonder, Gil thought as she quivered beneath his hands. He’d never been with a woman so sensitive. He’d never been a woman’s first time. Seeing her respond to his caresses was incredibly arousing. Seeing her reaction to each new sensation had him fighting to maintain control. He wanted to show her everything. He wanted to make it magic. He wanted it to last forever.
He didn’t know whether this would be the last and only time.
He schooled himself to go slow, even though the need pounded through him. He was so hard he was aching as he slid his hand down over her satiny torso. Every movement she made, every sound of pleasure pulled him closer to the edge.
His hand strayed to the button of her trousers. “I think we’re done with these for now,” he murmured, unzipping them to find his way under the silk and lace she wore beneath. Startled, she caught her breath.
The heat, the arousal intensified with the feel of his hand and she moaned a little. It felt too good, too intense, until her entire consciousness was focused on that spot, that one burning spot where he touched her. Then he moved lower and slipped a fingertip inside her.
And the panic hit. She tensed, her breath coming shallow. Arousal disappeared, washed away by the flood of anxiety.
Gil moved his hand, pulled her tight to him. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Trust me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, rolling away from him, fighting tears.
“We have all the time in the world,” he said, pressing kisses to her shoulders and her neck, slipping his arms around her. Slowly, she began to relax.
He began pulling down her trousers, inch by inch, stroking the exposed skin. Jillian could feel the cool air of the room. She felt the fabric slide against her thighs.
Felt him hook his fingers around the silk at her hips and drag it down.
And then she was naked.
Chapter Fourteen
Jillian fought the urge to cover herself. Being naked in front of a man required a level of vulnerability that had always seemed unimaginable. This wasn’t just any man, though. This was Gil, and it would be okay.
Then Gil moved up over the end of the bed and began licking his way up her thighs and the slow beat of desire began within her again. Warm, wet kisses, the sudden surprising slide of his tongue. She’d never known that her skin could be so sensitive. He kept at it, moving upward until she was mindless, unaware of the moans she made, her hips moving rhythmically against his touch. She began to tremble.
And then his mouth was on her, sudden and hot and her body arched up off the bed in shock. Nothing had prep
ared her for this. No touch of her hands had prepared her for the wet heat, the maddeningly slick strokes, the utterly unpredictable caresses that drove her relentlessly upward.
His clever mouth did things to her that she’d never even imagined until she was a creature of pure sensation, existing only for the pleasure, the coiling intensity of want that tightened and tightened until all of her, every atom of her was focused on that one spot, that one burning spot that he was tormenting with the hot, wet heat of his tongue.
Her hands fisted on the sheets. She rolled her head from side to side, moaning, gasping, clenching.
And suddenly, like a revelation, the orgasm exploded through her. Blasts of sensation rushed throughout her entire body to the tips of her fingers and toes as she shook and jolted and cried out helplessly. It was nearly overwhelming and it lasted a long time, finally subsiding into a warm glow, punctuated by the occasional quakes of the aftershocks.
Gil moved up the bed to lie alongside her.
“Oh,” she half gasped, half laughed. “Oh, my.”
“I take it that means that you liked it?”
She rolled him on his back and kissed him exuberantly. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt. You should get a public monument made to you.”
“A public monument? The mind boggles,” he said.
“Maybe something a little more private.”
“Private works. And while we’re talking about private…”
There was a little note of strain in his voice. There was still more to come, she realized. And there was his release. “I guess we should do something for you, shouldn’t we?”
“Are you kidding? This has all been for me.”
For the first time, she registered the hard mass against her hip.
“Do you want to keep going?” he asked softly.
When she nodded, he rose up off the bed to shuck his shoes and jeans and shorts.
She knew what to expect, of course. She’d read books. Nothing had prepared her for the sight of his arousal, though. It rose from his body, thick and powerful. She stared at it, mesmerized, as he slid back onto the bed.
Always A Bridesmaid (Logan's Legacy Revisited) Page 16