She cleaned her face, brushed her teeth, and glanced about to make sure the bathroom was tidy before she left it. In her bedroom she put on her warm flannel nightgown and put away her slacks and sweater. After turning down her bed, she switched off the lamp and went to open the door leading into the living room.
She wasn’t ready to confront him again so soon, but there he was, framed in the doorway. The light was behind him and she couldn’t see the expression on his face. But she could feel his eyes, so disturbingly intent, on her.
“It isn’t going to work, you know!” she flung at him belligerently.
“Is your hand all right?”
“Yes!” Kelly was irritated that he could stand there so calmly while she felt as if she would fly into a million pieces.
“Get into bed and I’ll bring you a hot drink.” He spoke as if to a rebellious child.
“I don’t believe you! You can’t be real!” she wailed. “Can’t you see I don’t want you here? You have absolutely no right to interfere in my life. You really are something else, Jonathan. I can’t find a word to describe you . . .” She was ashamed of the silly, childish words that tumbled from her mouth.
She began to shake uncontrollably and wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or because her nerves were so strung out. She flung herself back into the darkened room with head bowed, slid into bed, and tried to tuck her cold feet up into the warm folds of her nightgown. She was paying the price for those few blissful weeks when her love for him had consumed her and she had allowed him to take over her life.
Jonathan came to stand beside the bed but she ignored him.
“Turn over, Kelly. I’ve brought you a hot drink.” When she refused to move, he placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Turn over and drink this. It’s only whiskey and a little sugar and hot water. It’ll warm you up.”
Kelly turned over, sat up, and almost snatched the mug from his hand. Anything to get rid of him, she told herself.
“Is there something that needs to be done aside from banking the fires?”
“No, but leave the doors open so the pipes don’t freeze,” she answered grudgingly.
“I’ll take care of it.” He took the empty cup from her hand, pushed her gently down into the bed and tucked the covers about her shoulders.
Her body was as taut as a bow-string and her limbs icy cold, but already warmth from the drink was beginning to penetrate her chilled body. She kept her eyes tightly closed, wishing desperately for sleep.
Cold air hit her in the back. The mattress sagged as Jonathan lowered his weight onto the bed. Her eyes flew open and she gave a high wail. Panic stricken, she flopped over to face him, then tried to back away.
“No! No, Jonathan. I won’t sleep with you!” Her hands went to his chest to push him away from her. His skin was bare and warm and his masculine scent was so familiar! She smelled the mint of toothpaste on his breath when he leaned over her. Her heart beat with sheer horror. He was forging chains that were binding her to him. “Please! Please, don’t.” Her control broke and she begged pitilessly.
He ignored her pleas and pulled her to him, his muscled body free and unconfined. He searched and found her lips, opening them with the urgent pressure of his own. Her senses swam beneath his eager conquest. Pride forced her to continue to struggle in his arms and the gown worked up and over her thighs. Panic flared as he swung his bare leg over hers and held her softness pinned to the yielding mattress.
“You want me, darling!” he said slowly, his voice husky against her mouth. She tried to shake her head in silent denial, but he had locked it between his hands. “You want me as much as I want you.” His tongue played with her lips.
“Wanting and loving are not the same,” she gasped in a breathless whisper.
“Think of the wanting. The other can come later.”
“No! I can’t do it, Jonathan,” she mumbled frantically.
“Jack. Think of me as the Jack you loved during those few wonderful weeks,” he insisted.
“It makes no difference!”
“It does to me,” he returned in that soft, seductive voice.
“No!” Even while she was protesting, her blood ran like liquid fire through her veins. His hand caressed her back, stroking away the flannel gown and running urgently over her smooth skin, caressing her into surrender. She tried to protest, “No . . .” but the word was muffled by the drugging seduction of his mouth against her own.
Again she tried to push him away, but he tilted her to him, making her helpless, while his lips deepened their kiss. Her hands moved to his smooth, thick hair and fondled his neck and the strong line of his shoulders and back, then came up to stroke his cheeks and caress his ears.
Jonathan let his mouth wander over her face. “Say it, Kelly. Say you want me, that you like the feel of my body against yours.”
Refusing to answer, she struggled with the weakness that swept over her. The sensual need she had been fighting was taking complete control of her. The power of the sexual drive she had suppressed and stifled for months swamped her, driving away all coherent thought except the one that told her she was doomed if she surrendered completely.
“Say it,” he whispered in her ear.
“I can’t! I can’t!”
“Yes, you can. I’m not asking for your heart, but for the possession of your body. I won’t force anything from you that you’re not willing to give. I want to make love to you, and I know you want me too. There’s no commitment, darling,” he said in tense deliberation.
“No commitment? No! You want a woman and any woman will do! I won’t be used!” She tried to scramble away from him.
“Darling,” he groaned in protest, lifting his head and moving his body over hers to hold her, “that wasn’t what I meant. You crazy girl . . . be still and let me love you.”
Only later did Kelly pause to ask herself wildly what she was doing. She should be fighting him. Instead she wanted to feel his skin against hers. Obediently she raised her arms and allowed him to slip the nightgown over her head. Then she was in his embrace, his arms and legs locked around her and her breasts crushed against the fine cloud of hair on his chest.
“Sweetheart, you’re so beautiful,” he groaned in a husky voice. “Forget everything, but you and me and how I want to love you. You want me. . . . You do want me?” The muttered words were barely coherent, thickly groaned into her ear as he kissed the warm curve of her neck.
The deeply buried heat in her own body seemed to flare out of control, and she sought his mouth hungrily. Her hands moved to his back, digging into the smooth muscles. She felt the powerful tug of her own desire for him and admitted what her subconscious mind had known since the moment he came to the cabin. She wanted him.
He began to stroke her, whispering words, their meaning muffled for her as he kissed her soft, rounded breasts, nibbling with his teeth, nuzzling with his lips. He was totally absorbed in giving her pleasure and at the same time pleasing himself. She twisted and turned beneath him, bringing a groan of satisfaction to his lips. She was hungry for him, and returned his caresses with all the instinctive sexuality of her young body. Only Jack made love to her like this and he had been an expert teacher.
“Jack! Oh, Jack!” She arched her back, her senses surging to limitless peaks of pleasure. She was being carried on a tidal wave of desire.
“Darling, beautiful, Kelly,” he breathed, his hands sliding down her spine to the provocative curve of her hips.
Their lovemaking was a devastating experience, and when it was over, he didn’t move away from her. Instead, he cupped her face with his hands and sought her mouth with his.
“That was good, wasn’t it?” he said huskily, running his mouth over her face. His lips paused to tease her lashes. “Kelly, Kelly. . . . How did I survive without you all those months? I love the feel of your breasts against me and the taste of your mouth. You’re so soft, so feminine, so incredibly beautiful!”
Kelly la
y tightly against his body, her head resting on his chest. She couldn’t move. She was in an untenable predicament. He was an expert lover—gentle, sensitive to her desires. Their bodies came together perfectly. But there should be more. It was useless to deny that his hands, his lips, his husky voice, sent her into a mindless whirl of pleasure. She shivered, his arms tightened, and she wept silently.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered as his lips traced a path across her forehead. He grasped her hand and held it palm down against the flat plain of his stomach. Her whole body went rigid as she fought the tremors of longing that were already shaking her control. She stifled the sob that rose in her throat and resisted surrender when his mouth came to rest on hers. His probing tongue encountered sealed lips where minutes ago it had found eager admittance. His hands became more demanding, his lips more persuasive, and she parted her own lips to object, to protest that she didn’t want him again. He used that instant to find what he was seeking, and the touch of his tongue on her threatened to rob her of the ability to think, to remember the cold-eyed man who had treated her scornfully in Boston.
No! her pride screamed. He didn’t love her. He was using her to satisfy his sexual lust. Her body shook with a different kind of tremor that Jonathan responded to immediately. He lifted his mouth and she buried her face against the damp, matted hair on his chest. Tenderly his fingers raised her face and moved over her cheeks, wet with tears.
“Don’t make love to me again. Please . . . I don’t want you to,” she stammered.
“All right, sweetheart. But were my caresses so terrible?” His voice was soft and persuasive. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” His lips were moving over her face, absorbing her tears. “I know I did.”
“I don’t want to get pregnant,” she blurted out. “I would hate it!”
He remained still for a long while, raining gentle kisses on her face and holding her very tightly.
“Are you sure, Kelly? Are you sure you don’t want us to have a child?” he whispered in her ear, and kissed her so gently that her whole body cried out for him.
She raised tear-drenched lashes that fluttered against his cheek. A wave of helplessness came over her, and she whimpered. As if in torment, she tightened her arms about his neck and hungrily sought his lips, wanting to escape her anguished thoughts. He remained perfectly still as her mouth moved over his.
“This is all we have,” she sobbed helplessly. “I despise your snobbish way of life and you’ll hate mine after you’ve tried it. It would be criminal for us to have a child. No! I never want to have a child by you, Jonathan!”
Her words made him go rigid. “If you’re sure, Kelly,” he said slowly. “If you’re very sure you never want to have my child, I’ll go to Anchorage and have a vasectomy.”
His words stunned her. Had he really said them? He would give up, forever, the chance to have a child of his own?
“No!” Her arms clutched him frantically and her hands moved over his powerful body. “No! I couldn’t let you do that. Oh, Jonathan, what are we going to do?”
His arms pulled her closer as her tears wet his chest. He rained kisses on her brow, cheeks, and throat. Her own mouth blindly sought comfort, tasting her salty tears on his lips, and the tang of his skin. The driving force of her passion was taking her beyond reason, beyond fear.
“Don’t think about it, darling. If you don’t want a baby, we’ll do something about it. But for now . . . we’ll have to take the risk, because I can’t stop. . . .”
She sighed deeply and then blocked out everything but this moment . . . this night. She heard his ragged breathing as if from far away, and then she pulled him to her. Gradually the storm of passion overpowered them and they made wild, uninhibited love.
Afterward she lay quietly beside him. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, like a child seeking comfort. She held him and stroked him without speaking. But she couldn’t dismiss a feeling of impending doom. Her need for him was making her a prisoner and inwardly she rebelled.
“I could have you again,” he whispered hoarsely against her breast.
Kelly’s mouth went dry. “Again?”
He laughed and nibbled her skin. “It’s been a long, dry spell.”
“Am I supposed to believe that?” she asked quietly.
“Absolutely,” he said firmly and caught the lobe of her ear with his teeth and nipped it before burying his face in the hollow between her breasts. “Has there ever been another man?” he muttered. “Don’t lie to me. Just tell me if you’ve slept with another man.”
“There’s been no other man.”
He lifted his head and covered her mouth with his, and for a long time there was only the sound of their shaken breathing and the thump of his heart pounding against hers.
“Thank you, darling,” he said in a voice trembling with emotion. “I had to hear you say you’ve been only mine.”
Something hurt inside her. She swallowed convulsively. He wanted to own her, possess her for his pleasure alone. What happened tonight would happen again and again. What had she expected? a small voice cried inside her. She and Jonathan couldn’t live in the same house, much less sleep in the same bed without sex. It all boiled down to one thing: an arrangement. She would give Jonathan the sex he wanted and he, in turn, would let Mike and Marty keep the resort. It was as cold-blooded as that.
She had to sort out her emotions, untangle the confused motivations, and decide what she really wanted out of life. The image of Jack she had carried in her heart for so long had surfaced. The cold, possessive Jonathan of Boston had faded to nothingness when Jack held her in his arms. She needed time to think. She had rushed into marriage without any real idea of the kind of man she was marrying or the kind of lifestyle she would be expected to live. She couldn’t afford to make that mistake again. If her home in Alaska was a prison, at least it wasn’t the kind of prison Boston had been, where everything pressed down on her, chilling her, crushing her spirit.
Jonathan’s hand slowly stroked her back. “What are you thinking about?”
“Our Boston apartment and what a beautiful prison it was.”
He drew in a long, shaken breath and stroked the hair from her temples, his fingers touching her cheeks.
“And I was the warden? What do you feel for me, Kelly?” he asked wearily.
She moved her hand to his chest and felt his heart leaping under it. The rest of him was still, with a peculiar, silent waiting between them.
“Feelings shouldn’t be involved where business is concerned, Jonathan,” she whispered in husky tones.
He turned on his back and drew her to him. She settled her head on his body and heard the slow, regular rhythm of his breathing. His hands touched her gently, without pressure, as though reassuring himself she was here.
“Are you warm?” he asked and tucked the blankets close behind her.
“Uh-huh.”
Finally she fell asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHE REFUSED TO open her eyes. She wanted to fall asleep again, because in sleep there was no regret, no incrimination.
“Kelly!” Her name was a soft whisper wooing her from the land of Nod. She turned her face into the pillow and the insistent voice grew crisper. “Kelly!”
“What do you want?” she said crossly into the pillow.
“It’s nine o’clock.”
“Nine o’clock?” Her eyes flew open and she turned to glance up at Jonathan standing beside the bed with a mug in his hand. “Nine o’clock? I don’t believe it!”
“You’ve been sleeping like a baby for hours.” He sat down on the bed. He had shaved, his hair was damp from the shower, and he was fully dressed in clean denims and a soft flannel shirt. “Drink your coffee and come alive, woman.”
Kelly freed her arms from the confines of the soft, fleecy blanket and pushed her tangled hair back from her sleep-flushed face. She looked into teasing, brown eyes and was flooded with the sudden memory of the ecstasy she had sh
ared with him just hours before. Shame and humiliation made her voice sharp.
“Nothing is changed!”
“What do you mean?” He handed her the mug which she was forced to take.
“You know what I mean. You seduced me, wore me down. I’ll never forgive you!”
“Kelly, Kelly . . . I’m not asking for your forgiveness. All I did was make love to my wife, a normal, healthy expression of emotion.”
The calm inflection in his quiet voice grated on her nerves and resentment burned in her eyes.
“Expression of emotion? Lust, you mean!”
“Lust or a biological urge. I prefer to think of it as making love.” He smiled at her warmly.
“Love had nothing to do with it!” She spat the words at him and jerked the blanket up to her chin.
He laughed and she wanted to hit him. “Okay. Call it anything you want . . . but I liked doing it!”
“I don’t give a damn what you call it! It won’t happen again. I won’t be a . . . vehicle for your lust!” The words exploded from her tense lips.
“My lust? Our lust, dear wife. Or is lust too masculine a word to describe a woman’s sexual desires?” Amusement glinted in his dark eyes.
“Sex? Lust? Is that all you can talk about?”
Heavy lids hid his eyes and a secretive smile curved his mouth. Bending forward, he brushed his lips tantalizingly across hers. “Let’s not fight, Kelly. Let’s make love.”
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