CHAPTER SEVEN
'ooof! Kate! Wait.--' But there was no waiting, no stopping. There was only fury, wild, unbridled frenzy, the product of a week and more of pent-up emotion, anguish, hunger. Desire. Of course, Kate didn't recognise that particular emotion at the moment of impact. All she wanted then was to throttle him, to choke his laughter, to wipe the mocking grin off his handsome devil's face. But as satisfying as it was to knock him down, her own jolt was greater. He took her with him, grabbing her so that they both went under, their heads banging, their legs tangling, their bodies rubbing one against the other, inciting, exciting. And when, at last, they righted themselves and stood, trembling, still touching, in waist-deep water, he didn't let her go. "DDamon." "Shh." He drew her closer until her sea-slick body pressed once more against his, and then he bent his head and kissed her with a hunger that matched her own. She knew she should be stopping him, pulling back, saying no. She didn't. She couldn't. She wanted it--she wanted him--too much. She was wrong. She was foolish. She'd be sorry. She wasn't far enough gone to deny any of the above. And yet still she parted her tips under his and welcomed the touch of his tongue, meeting it with her own. Perhaps it was because she'd been alone so long. Perhaps it was the pressure of propinquity, the temptation of this island paradise, a conspiracy of God, Greek mothers and mosquitoes. Kate didn't know. She only knew she could fight no longer. As his hands roved over her back and slid down to cup her buttocks, her own glided up the length of his arms and laced against the back of his neck. She rocked her hips forward into his. Then she felt herself being lifted and carried towards the shore. He was as uncontrolled as she, as desperate, as hungry. He lay her down on the hard-packed sand at the water's edge and covered her body with his own, his damp hands stroking her with a fine tremor, his lips learning the line of her jaw, then touching her mouth again. If there were mosquitoes then, she didn't notice them. If there was sand in her hair, she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was this terrible need that had been building for as long as she could remember. And the only place to assuage it seemed to be in Damon's arms. He pulled back for a brief moment to settle himself between her legs and even that fleeting separation found her reaching for him, drawing him down once again. Damon didn't argue. He came to her, crushing her into the sand, biting down on his lower lip as he reached the centre of her, shuddering as he stopped, held perfectly still, his eyes locking with hers. It was insanity. Madness. It was the most beautiful thing on earth. Love. Or if it wasn't love, it was the closest thing Kate had ever known, the closest she'd come to feeling favoured, cherished, beloved in her entire life. For Damon was nothing like Bryce had been. Bryce had been so perfunctory, so mechanical and sometimes so obviously elsewhere that she'd despaired of reaching him. There was nothing like that about Damon. He was so clearly eager for her that Kate found herself coming to meet him, lifting her hips to draw him further within, arching her back so that her breasts brushed against his chest, digging her fingers into his hard-muscled buttocks, making him lose control. "Oh, Kate! I can't--I need--' His thrusts became quicker, stronger. Kate's did, too, because something else was happening, something new, something powerful. She forgot Bryce, forgot the past, forgot everything but Damon. Her own movements became more abandoned, her body more responsive to the delicious friction growing between them. And then as he tensed and his muscles contracted, the same thing happened to her own. It was as if she was still in the water, being lifted and lifted and lifted by the surge of the ocean's power, and then, at the peak, she felt herself slip over and fall headlong into the rush of the wave. It was liberating, shattering, mind-boggling. It had never happened before. Kate shut her eyes and delighted in it, revelling in sensations, in the feelings, in the weight of the body lying on top of her own. Her heart slammed against the wall of her chest. She turned her head and her lips brushed a faintly stub bled cheek. She drew back and opened her eyes to meet Damon's brown ones. And then the crush of reality weighed more heavily than her husband's body. She held her breath, waiting for him to roll away, to leave her the way Bryce always had, or--worse--to tell her, as Bryce had, exactly how disappointed he was, how unresponsive she was, how little she met his needs. But though Damon did move off of her, he didn't leave. Instead he settled himself in the sand alongside her, their bodies still touching, one of his hands stroking lightly down the length of her. She felt his fingers tremble. "Well," he said after a moment, giving her a faint grin, 'that was worth waiting for. " And the husky, ragged tone of his voice made her pull back, startled. "What do you mean?" she said cautiously. "Do you suppose it was the frustration that did it?" he mused, still smiling. "Or is it the chemistry between us? I think we ought to find out, don't you." And before Kate realised what was happening, it was happening again! Damon's hands skimmed over her, learning her curves and hollows. His mouth explored her breasts, laving them leisurely, suckling deeply, setting off tremors within her. She arched her back, clutching at him, moaning. "You like that, do you?" he whispered. The, too. " But then he pulled back and instinctively Kate reached for him. Then she looked up from beneath heavy lids to see him positioning himself above her once more. He settled himself between her thighs, urging her legs to part for him. And they did, flexing and lifting so that her heels pressed against the back of his thighs as he slid into her. "Yes," Kate murmured, 'oh, yes. " Because this was the way she knew loving was supposed to feel. This was the connected ness she'd always hoped for, that she'd sought with Bryce and never found. "Oh, my love, yes." And then she felt the hot surge of his seed within her, felt her own body contract around him and her mind explode at the climax of her desire. She shut her eyes. Her heart hammered, then gradually slowed. Her muscles relaxed and she began to hear again the soft beat of the rippling waves against their bodies, the cry of the gull overhead, the whisper of the wind through the palms. Slowly, with considerable trepidation, she opened her eyes. Damon still lay on top of her, but he had braced his torso with his hands alongside her arms, and he was looking down at her, his expression unreadable. Tentatively Kate smiled. And Damon smiled back. He levered himself up and off her. "Amazing." And Kate's smile broadened because, yes, it had been. Damon got to his feet and held out his hand to her. When she took it, he pulled her up beside him. Then, lacing his fingers together with hers, he led her into the water. It was more than Eden, Kate thought. It was heaven the warm clear water and the soft blue sky. It didn't even feel as warm now. Or maybe, she acknowledged, that was because the heat of frustration and anger no longer tormented her. She was basking in the glow of fulfilment. She supposed she ought to be worrying. She'd made love with a man who had never said, "I love you'. She'd shared her most intimate self with a man who was going to be gone in less than a year. And yet she couldn't regret it. She tried. She couldn't. It had been too beautiful. Too fulfilling. Too wonderful to second-guess or to wish it had never happened. ^ She slanted a sidelong glance at this man who was for twelve short months to be her husband, and she couldn't help thinking, yes, this is the way it's supposed to be. This is the point at which two souls connect. And what if she never came closer than this? What if for the rest of her life she was destined to miss such connections? Wasn't it better to have experienced it once? Was she a sinner to have enjoyed it? To have found with Damon's help a part of herself that no man, certainly not Bryce, had ever touched? No, Kate decided, she was not. They were married, for however long or short a time. They had a right to the happiness they could find. And after? But Kate knew better than to ask the answer to that. She knew better than to count on happily ever after. She'd done that once to her everlasting regret. For now it was enough to live in the moment. And to share with Damon that most elemental connection that two human beings can share. She studied her husband's unyielding profile. Her eyes traced the hard lines of his face, unsoftened now by his dark wavy hair which was plastered wetly to his skull. He was, she thought, even more handsome than usual, more striking, more vitally masculine. Damon Alexakis was the essence of what was truly
male. And for the first time in her life, in Damon's embrace, Kate felt as if she'd touched that essence. Who'd have believed it? Damon sat silently in the stern of Silas's boat and studied the woman he'd married less than three weeks ago. Whoever would have thought there was all that passion, all the eagerness buttoned up inside the proper, professional Kate McKee? Not me, that's for sure, Damon thought now. And yet. . . And yet, hadn't she attracted him almost from the first? Hadn't he wanted to touch her ivory skin, kiss her delectable mouth, ruffle that shiny, silky brown hair? His hormones had known, Damon thought wryly, even if his rational mind hadn't. And his hormones were pleased. He couldn't help grinning. And when Silas looked at him and muttered about newlyweds, then shook his head, Damon laughed aloud. Kate turned and caught them both looking at her. Beneath her already sunburned cheeks he saw a hint of deepening colour. But when they continued smiling at her, she began, albeit shyly, to smile, too. And when she did, he wanted her again. He'd thought an afternoon's loving would do it. He'd expected that learning her mysteries would quench his desire. In fact, what he'd learned had only whetted his appetite for more. She'd been so responsive, so abandoned, when he'd touched her. And afterwards she'd seemed almost astonished by it all. Hadn't her husband made her feel like that? Damon wondered. Then he thought, of course he had. She wouldn't have loved him so much if he'd left her unsatisfied in bed. What Damon had tapped in her was, quite obviously, a well of long-denied yearning. Maybe she hadn't loved a man since her husband's death. It hadn't taken long for him to realise that she clearly hadn't been interested in Stephanos. Maybe he was the first to have touched her in four long years. Of course she'd have exploded like match- struck kindling, if she hadn't known intimacy in all that time. Of course she'd have been eager. He wanted to strike a match to her desire again. And again. "You look like you done got the catch of the century," Teresa said when she saw them coming up the walk. He had his arm around Kate, had done since they'd left the village, and she hadn't pulled away. "You be smitin' big." Teresa smiled even bigger in demonstration. "Or maybe," she said, cocking her head, 'you got other things make you happy. " "Maybe," Damon agreed. Kate stepped on his foot and nudged him in the ribs. He grinned at her, but he didn't let go. "Silas is bringing the fish up when he cleans them," he told Teresa, "We got a box fish." Teresa nodded, pleased. "That be almost cause for those smiles. I'll stuff it for dinner." "We'll be here around seven," Damon said, leading Kate towards the cottage. This morning he'd hated the cottage. Had spent the first part of their time fishing, trying to contrive a means to stay out of it for as long as possible. It had seemed like the cage containing all his frustrations. Now he wanted to lock the two of them in and throw away the key. He wanted all the privacy the honeymoon cottage would allow. He knew that getting to make love to Kate was more than he'd bargained for. He could scarcely believe his good luck. It was turning into a far better honeymoon than he'd had any right to expect. She could make the year they had to spend together a hell of a lot more pleasant than he'd anticipated it being. "You can have the shower first," she said to him as he opened the door. "You don't think we might share?" If he'd thought her face turned red before, it was nothing compared to the colour it turned now. "I don't--I mean, I've never--' She stopped and turned away, pressing her palms to her cheeks in dismay. Charmed, Damon turned and drew her into his arms. "You've never been that wanton, huh?" he said, smiling. She shook her head against his chest. He was unnaccountably pleased: at least she hadn't been there before with Bryce. "Scared?" She lifted her eyes and shot him a quick glance before ducking her head again. "Don't be silly," she said gruffly. "Come on," he said, tugging her with him towards the bath, 'let's give it a try. " She didn't protest. She allowed him to lead her into the bathroom, and she leaned against the door while Damon turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature of the water and the angle of the spray. He nicked a bit of water at her. "Warm enough?" She nodded. She didn't say a word. He pulled hisT- shirt over his head, then turned to her. "Waiting for me to do it?" he asked softly. She swallowed, "N-not really." She started to lift her own shirt, but he put out his hands and stilled hers. "I want to." Slowly, carefully, he slid his hands under the hem of her shirt and skimmed it upwards. His thumbs brushed against her silky midriff, then skated lightly across her nipples. Gathering the shirt as he went, he tugged it over her head, then dropped it at their feet. Kate didn't move. Damon lay his hands on her arms, slid them down and then up, stroking her warm flesh She trembled under his touch. "Cold?" "N-no. Burning," she admitted. j So was he. "You can touch me, too, you know." For a moment Damon didn't think she would. She looked at him, her eyes wide and slightly wary as she hesitated. Then she licked her lips quickly and brought her hands up and lay them against his chest. Her touch made him tremble. He swallowed, holding quite still as her fingers traced lightly on his chest, then lifted to touch his shoulders and skim down the length of his arms. Her fingers laced with his. Then she leaned forward and touched her lips to his chest, laving first one tiny hard nipple, then the other. Damon let out an explosive breath. "Don't you like that?" "Hell, yes, I like it! Too much. I'm going to--' He shook his head desperately. She smiled. It was a wanton smile, a teasing smile, a very definite 'come hither' smile. And Damon had no inclination to resist. He loosed his fingers from hers, reaching out to undo the fastening of her shorts and pull down the zip. They fell to the floor, pooling at her feet. Kate stepped away from them. She started kissing him again, her lips feathering across his chest and lightly brushing his shoulders, while her palms flattened against his abdomen. Then they stroked downwards and hooked inside the waistband of his shorts. Damon held his breath as the backs of her fingers caressed his taut belly, then tugged his shorts down past his hips. He kicked them off and drew Kate with him into the shower. Her skin felt soft and slick and wet as he wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled against her neck. She made a tiny, hungry, whimpering sound that sent a fierce shaft of desire surging through him. He could have taken her then in scant seconds. Deliberately he did not. He was no randy teenager in the mood for a quick fix. He was a man grown, a man willing and able to appreciate the finer things in life. And making love with a woman as warm and responsive as Kate was definitely one of them. He stepped back, reached for the soap and, taking deep, calming breaths, tried to concentrate strictly on the satiny texture of her flesh as he smoothed the soap over her shoulders and down her back. Closing his eyes, he let his fingers stir up a lather, then slide forward to wash her small, but perfect breasts. They were faintly pink from being bared to the sun, and his fingers trembled as he moved the soap in gentle circles on them. Kate trembled, too. She stood very still, but he could feel the tremors running through her. And he smiled to see her lean into the stroke of his hands. He slid the soap lower, still circling as he moved to her abdomen. Bending his head, he kissed each of her breasts in turn. She reached out and gripped his shoulders with surprising force, her nails digging into his back. He left a trail of hot kisses down her belly until he reached the top of the soft triangle of dark hair at the apex of her thighs. His hands continued stroking down her legs. First the left, then the right, down the front of her thighs, then up the back. Around to the front again and down. He let the soap fall to the floor of the shower. Then slowly his hands slid between her knees and he let his fingers move upwards, brushing lightly, stroking gently. Kate shifted, widening her stance. Damon smiled, pleased. He rested his forehead against her abdomen, watching as he slowly let his fingers creep further up the tanned length of her legs until they reached the soft petals of flesh that hid her secrets from him. And then he touched her and felt her fingers let go of his shoulders only to clench frantically in his hair. "Damon!" He lifted his face and smiled up at her, his fingers stroking her all the while, finding her wet and welcoming, trembling themselves at her readiness to receive him. Her legs quivered and her hips surged against his hands. "Damon! What are you doing to me!" "Giving you pleasure." "Yes, but you--' " Don't worry. I'll get mine," he promised. It was
pleasure enough watching her, seeing a Kate he'd only just discovered--a wild, passionate Kate who burst into flames at his touch. She was close to doing so now. He could see it in her face, could feel it in the movements of her body, in the eager thrust of her hips against his hand. Her fingers twisted in his hair, tugging it, pulling him up. And he came up willingly, lifting her as he did so. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he pressed her against the wall and slid into her welcoming warmth. As much as he would have liked to prolong it, he couldn't. The feel of her body around his overwhelmed him, and he moved with an eagerness that matched hers. He was only relieved that he brought her satisfaction before succumbing to his own. "H-heavens," Kate mumbled as he let her body slide down his until her feet touched the floor again. "Good grief. I've never--' She glanced up at him, then looked away, apparently embarrassed. She bent over and snagged the bar of soap. Damon kissed the nape of her neck, then leaned against the wall of the shower, his legs still trembling. The neither," he said. Kate shot him a quick look. "Really?" "Really," he answered mockingly. She blushed. "You liked it?" she asked almost hesitantly. Damon stared. "What do you think?" He wrapped her in his arms and gave her a wet, soapy hug. "So much that if I didn't think it would kill me, I'd do it again right now." Kate beamed. She couldn't believe she was acting this way. She was like some wanton woman who couldn't keep her hands off a man. Not just any man. Damon Alexakis. And of course, she couldn't discuss the way she felt with anyone. They'd stare at her as if she'd lost her mind. Why shouldn't she want him? they'd ask. Why shouldn't she have him? After all, he was her husband. "In name only," she said aloud now in the still darkness of night. Really? she replied. Who was she trying to kid? They'd made love again that evening after dinner, hardly able to wait, barely enjoying the box fish and conch salad Teresa had prepared. They were too eager for the taste of each other. And though she knew she ought to be trying to control her desire, nothing in Kate seemed to want to rein it in. It was too new, too astonishing. She was like a child with a new toy--an amazing, unanticipated toy. And she couldn't get enough of it. . Of him. She was, to her everlasting chagrin, wanton and embarrassed by her wantonness at the same time. It was her insatiable need to be close to Damon that had forced her from the bed in the middle of the night. She awoke to find herself snuggling against his back, wrap-thing her arms around him, touching him in places that would have shocked her less than twenty-four hours before. She knew that she could awaken him, rouse him, make the world spin for both of them again. And at the same time she didn't dare. She didn't want to want him this badly. She didn't want to give in to the temptation to make love with him once more. It was too marvelous, too exciting, too passionate. It scared her. She scared herself. What had become of the steady, reliable, no-nonsense woman she'd been for the past twenty-odd years, especially for the past four? Of course she'd dreamed of finding such an all- consuming love, but she'd expected to find it with Bryce, with a man she loved. "At least," she told her reflection in the mirror, 'you found it with the man you married. " For a year. "A lot can happen in a year," she went on determinedly. And you think he's going to fall in love with you? Did she? She pressed her palms against her cheeks, staring at her reflection, as her mind delicately probed the notion of Damon Alexakis loving her. Twenty-four hours ago she'd have laughed at the idea. Now she wasn't sure. She only knew that in the space of a day they had connected on a very basic level, on a level she'd never come close to with another man, even Bryce. Damon had pleasured her, just as he'd said he was pleasured. But he'd done more than that. He'd taught her things about herself that she'd never even suspected. He'd shared himself in a way that Bryce never had. He'd made her aware of her potential as a woman. She shut out the light in the bathroom and crept quietly back to the bed. In the silver moonlight Damon lay sprawled, the sheet draped loosely over his hips. His dark hair was mussed and spiky, his cheeks and jaw shadowed with a day's worth of beard. Kate eased herself down on the bed beside him, feasting her eyes, remembering the way his hands had moved over her, recalling the tension in his face as he had loved her, and the fierce possession when he'd made her his own. She'd left the bed so she wouldn't be tempted to touch him. It was no use. She stroked a lock of hair off his forehead, smiling at his restless response, at the way his hand groped, seeking hers. His eyes opened. "Kate?" "I'm sorry. I was restless. I didn't mean to disturb you." He smiled, a lazy, slumbrous smile. "Didn't you?" And he drew her down into his arms once more, his hands tracing her curves, exploring her hollows, making her shiver and begin again to burn. "I'm not sure a week is long enough," he said against her lips. "What do you mean? Long enough for what?" "A honeymoon. I think we ought to stick around, really convince my mother." He smiled into her eyes. His hands were melting her. "What do you say?" "Yes."
THE ALEXAKIS BRIDE by Anne McAllister Page 8