by Nora Roberts
As the water coursed over them both, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her back against his chest. This was affection, he realized, the sort he’d felt very rarely in his life. Yet he felt it for her.
Ariel lifted her face to the spray. So many sensations buffeted her at that moment, she couldn’t keep up. So she stopped trying. It was enough to be close, to be held. And to love. Perhaps some people needed more—security, words, promises. Perhaps one day, she would, too. But now, just for now, she had all she wanted. Turning, she caught Booth close and fastened her mouth to his.
Passion flared in her quickly this time, as if it had been waiting for hours, days. Maybe years. It built so fast that the kiss alone had her gasping for air and fretting for more. Without being aware of it, she stood on her toes so that the curve of their bodies would be aligned. With desperate fingers, she combed through his hair and gripped, as if he might try to break away. But his arms were tight around her, and his mouth was as seeking as hers.
Reeling toward the crest, Ariel clung, and Ariel offered.
God, he’d never known anyone so giving. As he drank in all the flavors of her mouth, Booth wondered if it were possible for a woman to be so confident, so comfortable with herself that she could be this generous. Without any hesitation, her body was there for him. Her mind was tuned to him. Instinctively, Booth knew she thought more of his needs, his pleasures, than her own. And by doing so, she touched off a long dormant tenderness.
“Ariel . . .” Murmuring her name, he ran kisses over her face, which the water made incredibly soft, incredibly sweet. “You make me want things I’d forgotten—and almost believe in them again.”
“Don’t think.” She rubbed her lips over his to soothe, to entice. “This time don’t think at all.”
But he would, Booth told himself. Or he’d take her too quickly and perhaps too roughly. This time, he’d give her back a portion of what she’d already given him. Cupping the soap in his hand, he ran it over her back. He thought he heard her purr like one of her cats. It made him smile.
Her senses began to sharpen. She could hear the hiss of the spray as it struck tile, and feel the steam as it billowed in puffy clouds. Soapy hands slid over her—slick, soft, sensitive. His flesh was wet and warm where her mouth pressed. Through half-closed eyes she could see the lather cling to her, then him, before it was sluiced away.
His hand moved once between their slippery bodies to find her—stunningly—so that she cried out in surprise and rippling pleasure. Then it journeyed elsewhere while his lips traced hot and damp over her shoulder. The tang of citrus from the soap made her head reel.
“Do they still ache?” Booth asked her as his fingers kneaded the backs of her thighs.
“What?” Floating, Ariel leaned against him, her arms curved over his back, her hands firm on his shoulders. Water struck her back in soft, hissing spurts, then seemed to slither away. “No, no, nothing aches now.”
With a laugh, Booth dipped his tongue into her ear and felt her shiver. “Your hair goes to gold when it’s wet.”
She smelled the shampoo, felt its cool touch on her scalp before he began to massage. Nothing, Ariel thought, had ever aroused her more.
Slowly, lingeringly, he washed her hair while the frothy bubbles of shampoo ran down his arms. The scent was familiar to him now, that fresh, inviting fragrance that caught at him every time he was near her. He enjoyed the intimacy of having the scent spill over him and cling to her skin, and to his. Shifting his weight, he moved them both under the gush of the shower so that water and lather raced down their bodies and away.
And while they stood, hot and wet and entangled, he slipped into her. It seemed natural, as if he’d been her lover for years. It was thrilling, as though he’d never touched her before.
He felt Ariel’s nails dig into his shoulders, heard her moan of surrender and demand. He took her there, with more care than he’d ever shown a woman. And he felt a rush of freedom.
Chapter Nine
Ariel rode a roller coaster for two weeks. Her time with Booth seemed like a ride with dips and curves and speed and surprises. Of course, she’d always loved them—the faster and wilder the better.
She’d been right when she’d told Booth he was unpredictable. Neither was he a simple man to deal with. Ariel decided she wanted it no other way.
There were times he was incredibly tender, showing her flashes of romance and affection that she’d never expected from him. A box of wildflowers delivered before an early studio call. A rainy-day picnic in his apartment with champagne in paper cups while thunder raged.
Then there were the times he pulled away, drawing into himself so intensely that she couldn’t reach him. And she knew, instinctively, not to try.
The anger and impatience in him were ingrained. Perhaps it was that, contrasting with the glimpses of humor and gentleness that had caused her to lose her heart. It was the whole man she loved, no matter how difficult. And it was the whole man she wanted to belong to. This man—brooding, angry, reluctantly sweet—was the man she’d been waiting for.
As the film progressed, their relationship grew closer, despite Booth’s occasional stretches of isolation. Closer, yes, but without the simplicity she looked for. For love, in Ariel’s mind, was a simple thing.
If he was resisting love, so much the better, Ariel told herself. When he accepted it—she wouldn’t allow herself to doubt he would—it would be that much stronger. For she needed absolute love, the unconditional giving of heart and mind. She could wait a little longer to have it all.
If she had one regret, it was that she wasn’t free to confide in him about Scott. The closer the trial came, the more she felt the need to talk to Booth about it; to seek comfort, gain reassurance. Though it was tempting, Ariel never even considered it. This problem was hers and hers alone. As Scott was hers to protect and defend.
When she thought of the future, it was still in sections. Booth, Scott, her career. She needed her own brand of absolute faith to believe that they’d all come together in the end.
After a long, hectic morning, Ariel considered the lengthy delay due to equipment breakdown a reward. It was the first time in weeks she’d be able to watch Our Lives, Our Loves, and catch up on Amanda’s life with the people of Trader’s Bend.
“You’re not really going to watch television for the next hour,” Booth protested as Ariel pulled him down the corridor.
“Yes, I am. It’s like visiting home.” She shook the bag of pretzels in her hand. “And I’ve got provisions.”
“When they get the sound board fixed, you’re going to have a hell of an afternoon ahead of you.” He kneaded her shoulder as they walked. Though it didn’t often show, he’d seen brief glimpses of strain in her eyes, isolated moments when she looked a bit lost. “You’d be better off putting your feet up and catching a nap.”
“I never nap.” When she pushed open her dressing room door, she upended a stack of magazines. Hardly sparing them a glance, she walked over to the small television set in the corner.
“I seem to recall coming in here one day and finding you with your feet up on the table and your eyes closed.”
“That’s different.” She fiddled with a dial until she was satisfied with the color. “That was recharging. I’m not ready for recharging, Booth.” Eyes wide and excited, she whirled around. “It’s really going well, isn’t it? I can feel it. Even after all these weeks, the edge is still on. That’s a sure sign we’re doing something special.”
“I was a bit leery about doing a film for television.” He took a few pamphlets from the sofa and dropped them on a table. “Not anymore. Yes, it’s going to be very special.” He held out a hand to her. “You’re very special.”
As always, the subtle unexpected statement went straight to her heart. Ariel took the offered hand and brought it to her lips. “I’m going to enjoy watching you accept that Emmy.”
He lifted a brow. “And what about yours?”
“Maybe,” she
said and laughed. “Just maybe.” The lead-in music for the soap distracted her. “Ah, here we go. Back to Trader’s Bend.” Dropping onto the sofa, she pulled Booth with her. After ripping open the bag of pretzels, Ariel became totally absorbed.
She didn’t watch as an actress or as a critic, but as a viewer. Relaxing her mind, she let herself become caught up in the connecting plot lines and problems. Even when she saw herself on the screen, she didn’t look for flaws or perfection. She didn’t consider she was looking at Ariel, but at Amanda.
“Don’t tell me what I want,” Amanda told Griff in a low, vibrating voice. “You have no business offering me unsolicited advice on my life, much less coming into my house uninvited.”
“Now, you look.” Griff took her arm when she would have turned away. “You’re pushing yourself right to the edge. I can see it.”
“I’m doing my job,” she corrected coolly. “Why don’t you concentrate on yours and leave me alone?”
“Leaving you alone’s the last thing I’m going to do.” As the camera zoomed in, the viewer was witness to his struggle for control. When Griff continued, his voice was calmer but edged with his familiar passion. “Damn it, Mandy, you’re almost as close to this Ripper thing as the cops. You know better than to stay in this house by yourself. If you won’t let me help you, at least go stay with your parents for a while.”
“With my parents.” Her composure began to crack as she dragged a hand through her hair. “Stay with my parents, while Vikki’s there? Just how much do you think I can take?”
“All right, all right.” Frustrated, he tried to draw her against him, only to have her jerk away. “Mandy, please, I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. And if you really want to help, leave me alone. I need to go over the psychiatric profile before I meet with Lieutenant Reiffler in the morning.”
Fisted hands were shoved in his pockets. “Okay, look, I’ll sleep down here on the couch. I swear I won’t touch you. I just can’t leave you out here alone.”
“I don’t want you here!” she shouted, losing her tenuous grip on control. “I don’t want anyone, can’t you understand that? Can’t you understand that I need to be alone?”
He stared at her while she fought back tears, shoulders heaving. “I love you, Mandy,” he said so quietly it could barely be heard. But his eyes had already said it.
As the camera zoomed in on her, a single tear spilled out and rolled down Amanda’s cheek. “No,” she whispered, turning away. But Griff’s arms came around her, drawing her back against him.
“Yes, you know I do. There’s never been anyone for me but you. It killed me when you left me, Mandy. I need you in my life. I need what we’d planned to have together. We’ve got a second chance. All we have to do is take it.”
Staring into nowhere, Amanda pressed a hand to her stomach where she knew Cameron’s baby was sleeping—a baby Griff would never accept, and one she had to. “No, there aren’t any second chances, Griff. Please leave me alone.”
“We belong together,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair. “Oh, God, Mandy, we’ve always belonged together.”
For his sake, for her own, she had to make him leave. Pain flashed in her eyes before she controlled her expression. “You’re wrong,” she said flatly. “That was yesterday. Today I don’t want you to touch me.”
“I can’t crawl anymore.” Ripping himself away from her, Griff headed for the door. “I won’t crawl anymore.”
As the door slammed behind him, Amanda slumped down on the couch. Curling on her side, she buried her face in a pillow and wept. The camera panned slowly to the window to show a shadowy silhouette behind the closed curtains.
“Well, well,” Booth murmured at the commercial break. “The lady has her problems.”
“And then some.” Ariel stretched and leaned back against the cushions. “That’s the thing about soaps—one problem gets resolved and three more crop up.”
“So, is she going to give Griff a break and take him back?”
Ariel grinned at the casualness of the question. He really wants to know, she mused, pleased. “Tune in tomorrow.”
His eyes narrowed. “You know the story line.”
“My lips are sealed,” she said primly.
“Really?” Booth caught her chin in his hand. “Let’s see.” He pressed his to them firmly, and though hers curved, they remained shut. Challenged, he shifted closer and his fingers spread over her jawline, lightly stroking. With the barest of touches, he traced the shape of her mouth, wetting her lips, using no pressure. When he nibbled at one corner, then the other, he felt the telltale melting of her bones, heard the quiet sigh. Effortlessly, his tongue slipped between her lips to tease hers.
“Cheat,” Ariel managed.
“Yeah.” God, she made him feel so good. He’d almost stopped wondering how long it would last. The end, what he considered the inevitable end to what they brought each other, was becoming more blurred every day. “I’ve never believed in playing fair.”
“No?” Her sudden aggression caught him off balance. Before he knew it, Booth was on his back, with her body pressed into his. “In that case, no holds barred.”
The greedy kiss left him stunned, so that by the time he’d gripped some control again, she’d unbuttoned his shirt for her seeking hands. “Ariel . . .” Half-amused, half-protesting, he took her wrist, but her free hand skimmed down the center of his body to spread over his stomach.
Amusement, protests, reason, slipped away.
“I never get enough of you.” He gripped her hair, destroying the sleek knot the hairdresser had tended so carefully hours before.
“I plan to see that you don’t.” With quick, openmouthed kisses she moved over his shoulder, drawing away the shirt as she went.
She took him over hills and into valleys with such speed and fury he could only follow. For as long as he could remember, Booth had led in every aspect of his life—not trusting enough to let another guide. But now he could barely keep pace with her. The energy, the verve he’d so long admired in her was in complete control. As he was swept along, Booth wondered why it was suddenly so easy to break yet another rule. Then, as she had once requested, he didn’t think at all.
Feelings. Ariel drew them in as they radiated from him. This was what she’d been so patiently, so desperately waiting for. Emotions were finally overtaking him. As they merged with her own, she felt the bond, the link, and nearly wept with the wonder of it.
He loves me, she thought. Maybe he doesn’t know it yet, maybe he won’t for days and weeks to come. But it’s there. The urge to weep changed to an urge to laugh. And it was with laughter and with joy that she took him into her.
Winded, Booth lay still while Ariel curled like a cat on his chest. “Was all that just to keep me from learning the story line?”
Her chuckle was muffled against his skin. “There are no lengths I won’t go to to protect security.” She snuggled against him. “No sacrifice too great.”
“With that in mind, I think I’ll ask about the identity of the Ripper—tonight.” Drawing her up, he examined her. The silk blouse she’d been wearing was unbuttoned and trailing over one shoulder. The thin slacks lay in a heap on the floor. Her hair was a provocative tangle. “You’re going to catch hell from wardrobe and makeup.”
“It was worth it.” Straightening her blouse, Ariel began to do up the buttons. “I’ll tell them I took a nap.”
With a laugh, he sat up and tugged on her tumbled hair. “There’s no mistaking what you’ve been up to. Your eyes always give you away.”
“Do they?” Carefully, she stepped into her slacks. “I wonder.” Absently smoothing out the creases, she turned to him. “You haven’t seen it in all these weeks.” As she watched, his brows drew together. “You’re a perceptive man, and I’ve never had a strong talent or a strong desire to hide my feelings.” She smiled as he continued to frown at her. “I love you.”
His face, his body—Ariel thought
even his mind—went very still. He said nothing. “Booth, you don’t have to look as though I’ve just pulled a gun on you.” Stepping closer, she touched the back of her hand to his cheek. “Taking love is easy—giving it is a bit harder, for some people anyway. Please, take it as it’s offered. It’s free.”
He wasn’t at all certain what he was feeling—only that he’d never felt anything like it before. The very novelty made him wary. “It’s not wise to give things away, Ariel, especially to someone who isn’t ready for them.”
“And holding on to something when it needs to be given is even more foolish. Booth, can’t you trust me even now, just enough to accept my feelings?”
“I don’t know,” he murmured. As he rose, conflicting emotions, conflicting desires tore at him. He wanted to distance himself as quickly and as completely as possible. He wanted to hold her and never let go. He felt a stab of panic as well as pleasure, the sweetness of it.
“They’re there whether you can or can’t. I’ve never been good at controlling my emotions, Booth. I’m not sorry for it.”
Before he could speak there was a brisk knock on the door. “Ariel, you’re needed on the set in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you.”
He had to think, Booth told himself. Be logical. . . . Be careful. “I’ll send the hairdresser in.”
“Okay.” She smiled, and it almost reached her eyes. When he’d gone, Ariel stared at her reflection in the mirror. The lights around it were dull and dark. “So who expected it would be easy?” she asked herself.
In just under fifteen minutes, Ariel walked back toward the set. She looked every bit as cool and as sleek as she had when she’d walked off the set over an hour before. Despite Booth’s reaction, which she’d half expected, she felt lighter, easier, after telling him of her feelings. It was, after all, merely stating aloud what was, sharing what couldn’t be changed. As a