A Love Like This

by Diana Palmer

  “King, you—you won’t try to seduce me?” she asked, afraid that he might out of frustration over Bess and knowing from last night’s experience that he wouldn’t meet much resistance.

  “Could I?” he asked in a smooth, sensuous tone, searching her wide eyes.

  “Yes,” she admitted, lowering her gaze.

  His own reaction startled him; it was instantaneous and overwhelming, and he caught his breath as his body tautened. He saw her blush scarlet at the awareness of what was happening to him, and he muttered unsteadily, “This is absurd.”

  “King?” she whispered, her body throbbing wildly from the knowledge of what her response had done to him.

  “Oh, what the hell,” he breathed, and he bent to her mouth.

  His lips came down on hers and opened them sensuously, while his arms lifted her against him, savoring her soft weight. He carried her to the huge king-size bed and placed her carefully on the black silk coverlet. Then he slid alongside her, his look lazy, his eyes dangerous. Lowering his head, he trailed a string of warm, moist kisses from her temple to her throat.

  “Does this untie?” he murmured, searching her shoulders for the ends of the straps.

  Her lips parted. She thought she wanted to protest, but her body was singing to her, her blood raging in her veins. She wanted his eyes on her, there, his mouth, she wanted...

  “You have bedroom eyes,” he whispered. His fingers found the tiny bows just behind her shoulders, and he untied them very slowly. “When I look in them I can see what you want.”

  “What do I want?” she whispered, her voice husky and unfamiliar to her own ears as she lay beneath him.

  “My eyes,” he replied, drawing the bodice of her dress down just to the soft beginning slope of her breasts. “And my mouth.” He bent his head to her creamy skin, running his lips just beneath her collarbone in slow, sensuous sweeps. His hands were on her rib cage, smoothing the black crepe, his thumbs just under her breasts, touching them as if by accident.

  Her fists clenched beside her head, and her breath caught. He lifted his head, looking at her.

  “You’re trembling,” he breathed, reaching for the top of the bodice.

  “King,” she moaned helplessly.

  “Innocent,” he whispered. He held her eyes as his hands moved, and she felt the cool night air on her breasts as the fabric fell to her waist.

  “Oh!” she whispered softly, arching her body gently.

  His gaze moved slowly down to her breasts, their small pink nipples aroused and hard, her body shuddering a little with the newness of this kind of intimacy.

  “The first time,” he said under his breath. “My God, they’re exquisite.” His lightly calloused fingers brushed them, tenderly tracing their contours, touching the hard nipples just lightly enough to make her shudder with pleasure.

  She couldn’t even speak; her throat was tight with exquisite tension.

  “Now,” he whispered, bending. “Now, Elissa, now...”

  His hand cupped her while his mouth opened on her, and she cried out. Then his mouth caught hers, stifling the tiny sound while his hand possessed her, savoring her silky warmth.

  “I could eat you,” he ground out against her eager, open mouth. “I could eat you like candy.”

  Another sound tore from her, and he lifted his head, looking dazedly past her to the radio. His hand trembled as he reached for the volume and turned it on to a heavy reggae beat.

  “Now,” he murmured, “you can make as much noise as you want.”

  Her lips opened to voice a protest, and his crushed down over them, his tongue moving into her mouth with a slow, hungry rhythm, his knee easing between her legs.

  She felt her fingernails digging into the nape of his neck, reveling in the feel of his thick dark hair. Her body was on fire for him; she’d never in her life felt anything as explosively sexual. She wanted fulfillment; she wanted to be part of him, rock with him, writhe under him.

  Her moans grew sharper when his mouth traveled down over her breasts to her waist, her stomach. She moved helplessly in his embrace, feeling his strength, loving his hands, loving the ardor of his warm mouth.

  He paused, breathing raggedly, to strip off his shirt, and she gasped at the sight of him like that, looming over her, his chest thick with dark hair, the bronzed muscles rippling, his face dark with passion, his eyes almost black. She could feel the heat of his body, see the fine tremor of his arms.

  “Come here,” he commanded, kneeling before her.

  She rose to her own knees, and he pulled her to him, pressing her breasts hard against his hair-roughened chest and making her shudder with the fierce pleasure of it. He held her there, kissing her deeply and shifting her against him in the process until her nipples were so sensitized that they burned and her nails dug into his back.

  “I want...you,” was dragged out of her throat. She buried her face in his neck and clung to him, her hips against his, her thighs trembling. “I...want...you.”

  His hands went to her hips, grinding her into him, and a burning sensation shot through her lower body. She shuddered helplessly, gasping with pleasure and barely contained desire.

  “Lie down,” he whispered shakily. “Lie down under me. I’ll make you stop shaking. I’ll make you part of me...”

  “The door... Is it locked?” she asked huskily, feeling his weight come over her, his hands urgent on her body.

  “Locked?” His hands stilled, and he looked into her feverish eyes. “Elissa?” He swallowed, his bare chest rising and falling with the force of his heartbeat as he looked down at her. “Elissa... I could make you pregnant.”

  She was hardly able to breathe. His eyes were the world. She loved him, and she hadn’t known. He was more than her friend. He was everything. And to have his child—the thought was too wonderful for words.

  Her eyes went down his body possessively, loving its long, powerful lines, loving every inch of him with sweet abandon. Her hips moved sensuously under his, eliciting a groan from him.

  “No, honey,” he whispered, stilling her impatient movements. “Don’t make me. We’ve got to stop while we can.”

  “Why?” she asked dazedly.

  “We can’t make love with Bobby and Bess sitting in the next room.” He laughed brittlely. “I must have been out of my mind to let things go this far.”

  His hands cupped her head, and he dropped a hard, quick kiss onto her lips. Then he sat up, smoothing his hands blatantly over her breasts, his eyes appreciative and boldly possessive. “God, you’re something,” he said. “As hot and wild as I am. We’d set fires together,” he added with what sounded like regret.

  She sat up, too, more than unsettled by the confusing sequence of events and moods. Feeling uncomfortably exposed beneath that frank stare of his, she tugged at her bodice, but his hand prevented her from tugging it up.

  “Not yet,” he murmured. His hand went to her back, arching her over his arm, and his mouth opened, taking her breast inside the moist darkness.

  She shuddered, biting her lip to keep from crying out. It was the sweetest kind of ache he made there, his tongue rubbing lazily at her nipple, his lips tugging at her. She clutched the back of his dark head, holding him there, while his free hand came up just below his mouth and cupped her sensuously.

  It was a long time before he lifted his head, and he clearly liked what he saw when he looked at her. “I’d like to have you on the beach, just the way I dreamed of.”

  She flushed to the roots of her hair at the image that had haunted her all day, too.

  His hand moved over her soft breasts. “You’re very pale here,” he said. “I’d like to teach you the delicious pleasure of sunbathing nude. Swimming nude.”

  “You do,” she said without thinking, her voice breathless sounding.

  He lifted his head, smiling slowly. “Yes.
You’ve watched me sometimes at night, from your kitchen window, haven’t you?”

  The flush got worse, but she didn’t look away. “I was curious,” she confessed softly. “There was moonlight once, and you came out of the water very close to the cottage... I never knew a man could be beautiful.” She faltered, blushing furiously. “I didn’t think you’d know I was watching.”

  He brushed his mouth over her eyes. “I knew,” he murmured. “I don’t mind if you look at me.”

  She was still trembling when he got to his feet and pulled her up with him, slowly retying the straps at her shoulders.

  “You look loved,” he said unexpectedly. He brushed her tangled hair away from her damp face, then turned away to pick up his shirt.

  To Elissa’s amazement, her hand reached out to protest when he started to put it on.

  He looked up in surprise, then gently drew her hands to him. “Go ahead. Indulge yourself.”

  “You don’t mind?” she asked, savoring his hair-roughened skin with hands that had never known a man’s body.

  “Mind? Not in the least,” he returned. “Come here. I’ll teach you how.”

  She hadn’t known there was a right and wrong way to touch a man, but with his hands showing her how, urging her mouth to his skin, teaching her what excited him, what pleased him the most, she felt her confidence grow, and with it a new sense of womanly power. She didn’t protest, not even when he guided her hands and let her experience him in a way she’d never dreamed of.

  Finally he emitted a low groan and slid her arms around his waist.

  “Sometimes I forget how innocent you are,” he said in her ear. He bit it, laughing softly, and his cheek nuzzled hers. “You make me forget,” he whispered. He drew his mouth across her cheek, then raised his head to search her eyes. “You shut out the world while I’m holding you.”

  He kissed her gently then, and she understood. She blotted out his hunger for Bess—that was what he meant.

  But I love you, she wanted to say. I love you, and I want so much more of you than this. Two years of friendship, and it had never occurred to her just how necessary he’d become to her, just how possessive she’d become of him. Nothing he’d done to her was unwelcome. She realized she could lie with him and give herself and live on it for the rest of her life, despite all her hard-won principles. Was that lust? Or was it the natural hunger for oneness, for total knowledge?

  With his mouth still over hers, she frowned and opened her eyes, only to find his eyes open and watching her. Her heart went wild. His tongue penetrated her mouth, his hands came up under her breasts, and she couldn’t sustain the look a second longer. She closed her eyes with a hungry moan, and he kissed her deeply, thoroughly, before finally releasing her and putting her from him. She straightened up and smoothed out her dress as best she could.

  “Don’t brush your hair,” he said when she reached for a brush on his dresser just as they were about to leave the room.

  “Why not? I must look a mess.”

  “Because I want her to see you like this,” he said gruffly. “With your mouth swollen and your hair in a tangle and your skin glowing. I want her to know that we’ve been making love.”

  “That’s cruel,” she whispered.

  “I have to be cruel, don’t you see? My God, Elissa, he’s my brother,” he groaned.

  “Yes, I know.” She stood in front of him, reaching up to smooth away his frown. She smiled gently, drowning in new fantasies, brimming over with her new knowledge of him, new memories to put under her pillow and cherish.

  “Too bad you’re such an innocent,” he said with a sigh.

  “What would you do if I weren’t?” she teased gently.

  “I’d take you into my bed and work Bess out of my system with a vengeance,” he said honestly. “And I could, with you. I’ve never wanted anyone so much in all my life.”

  “I wish I could let you,” she replied. “I think I’d like sleeping with you, King. Lovemaking is more beautiful than I ever realized.”

  “I’m glad you think of it that way, and not as something to satisfy a passing physical urge,” he said. “Ideally it is an act of love. With you,” he added quietly, bemusedly, “it feels like it. I don’t understand...”

  She drew in a slow breath and went to turn the radio off, flushing at the reason it had been turned on. She looked across the room and found him watching her.

  “There’s no need to blush,” he said quietly, once again reading her mind. “You did my ego a world of good—believe me. If it hadn’t been for our houseguests, I wouldn’t have given a damn if you’d yelled the place down.”

  “It’s embarrassing to feel like this,” she whispered. “They’ll see...”

  “Yes,” he agreed tersely. “Thank God.”

  She couldn’t answer that. She opened the door and walked ahead of him.

  Bess wasn’t there. Bobby looked up with a sly grin. “Bess has gone for a walk on the beach,” he murmured. He cleared his throat. “I guess you two settled your differences...”

  Elissa blushed to the roots of her hair. King laughed delightedly and slid his arm around her. “It wasn’t anything serious,” he said, chuckling. “I’m sorry if we embarrassed you.”

  Bobby shrugged. “Not me. But Bess is unusually sensitive, I guess.” He put down his pen. “She and I used to be like that, but she’s grown away from me. So many parties and teas and girls’ nights out—I hardly see her when I’m at home.”

  “You might try spending more time there, now that you can afford to,” King suggested pointedly.

  “I might. I think I’ll stroll out and join her.”

  “We’ll make some coffee,” King said, and he led Elissa toward the kitchen.

  “She was hurt,” Elissa said as she filled the coffeepot.

  “I know.” His voice was deep and curt, and he was staring out the window at Bess watching the waves.

  She plugged in the pot and went to him, touching his chest lightly where the shirt was unbuttoned. “And so are you,” she said gently. “I’m sorry. I feel as if I’ve failed you.”

  “How?” he asked, smiling.

  “I couldn’t give myself.”

  “The hell you couldn’t.” He chuckled wryly, then linked his arms around her waist and looked down at her. “I stopped us. You didn’t. Not even when I mentioned pregnancy.”

  She lowered her eyes to his chest. “I’m not so afraid of it.”

  “Aren’t you?” He studied her. No, she didn’t seem to be. And he was shocked to learn that he wasn’t, either. That intrigued him. Shouldn’t he have been?

  He turned to gaze out the window once more.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “ARE YOU SURE Bess doesn’t want children?” Elissa asked abruptly, disrupting his disturbing thoughts.

  He turned back toward her. “She says not,” he replied. Hands in his pockets, he leaned against the counter. “In the beginning, I think it was because she didn’t want to be tied down. Her mother had seven children.” He smiled sadly, remembering. “Bess was in the middle, but she did her share of looking after the little ones. She had a rough time of it, and so did the other kids, for that matter,” he murmured, remembering how Bess’s father drank and terrified the children. “Anyway, children don’t necessarily guarantee a good marriage. I’ve seen happy marriages destroyed by them.”

  That sounded very private. “Have you?”

  He frowned. “My mother often said that she and my father were happy enough until I came along and spoiled things,” he said quietly.

  “What a horrid thing to say to your own child,” Elissa muttered, her face taut as she arranged cups and saucers and cream and sugar on a big silver tray.

  “My mother was a devoted socialite,” he said. “She didn’t much care for children. If my stepfather hadn’t insisted, Bobby probably would never
have been born. Odd how things turn out. She was a vivacious, beautiful woman with a quick mind. And now she’s a shell of her former self.”

  “Do you visit her very often?”

  “As often as I can,” he said. “She doesn’t know me, of course.”

  She studied his hard face while the coffee finished perking, thinking how difficult his childhood must have been. She felt a burst of sympathy for the boy he had been.

  “It wasn’t that rough,” he said after a minute, clearly reading her expression. “Besides, it was an incentive to show them all what I could do. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that revenge has produced a hell of a lot of successful men?”

  “I suppose so. Is that why you’ve never married? Because of your own childhood?” she persisted gently.

  He sighed. “Oh, Elissa,” he murmured, smiling. “You’re one of a kind, honey.”

  “I just wondered,” she said.

  He watched her pour coffee into the elegant floral china cups, thinking how sweetly domestic she seemed at that moment. She could cook like an angel, she looked exquisite in anything she put on, she had a gentle and loving nature, and physically she made the top of his head fly off with the uninhibitedness of her response to him.

  “If I ever married, I suppose it would be you,” he said unexpectedly.

  Her hand trembled, spilling coffee. She put the pot down with shaky fingers and reached for a dish towel to mop up the mess.

  “That was unkind,” she told him.

  “I meant it, in fact,” he said lazily, moving closer. “There’s not much hope of marriage in my life, with things the way they are. But I think I could enjoy living with you. You’re quiet and amusing, and I covet your body.”

  He was openly leering at it, in fact, and she burst out laughing. It was a joke, of course. After all the time she’d known him, occasionally it was still difficult to tell when he was joking.

  “I covet yours, too, but I’m not that kind of girl,” she reminded him primly.