Touch Me Not

by Julie Kistler

  “Oh, come on,” she said, in a teasing tone. “Up the stairs, into bed. It’s not so far.”

  But when they hit the first step, he stumbled. She reached out to catch him, losing her balance, too. They ended up tangled on the landing, with most of her body beneath his. If he’d thought he was too battered to respond to her physically, he was very wrong. All his neurons were firing like champions.

  Luke didn’t move, didn’t dare disrupt this incredible feeling. It felt so innocent, so easy. He opened the sensory gates just a little, absorbing the fresh, heady feel and smell of her skin, taking in the forbidden joy of her soft curves pressed so close. A silky red tendril brushed his hand and sent little flickers of pleasure skating up his arm right to his heart, heightening what had already become more than an ache, more than a twinge. He wanted her desperately. The signals couldn’t have been clearer.

  “Well,” she said breathlessly, “it feels to me like you’re all in one piece.”

  One piece in particular. How inconvenient for his body to respond like a stallion at the gate when he had just decided there was no way, no chance, no—

  Was that a moan? It was so soft she couldn’t have known she’d done it, but he knew. “Oh, God,” he whispered. “Don’t do this to me.”

  Then she wiggled almost imperceptibly, and his need became so overpowering he couldn’t think of anything else but stopping it. Now.

  “I can’t do this,” he mumbled, edging away.

  But Gilly looped her arms around his chest and nudged him back. “You feel just fine. Mmm. Very fine.”

  “Gilly, stop it”

  Carefully he disengaged himself and staggered the rest of the way upstairs, waving her off as she attempted to support him. He toppled into bed, not bothering to undress. Control it, he commanded himself. You can do it. But his nerves were still ragged, and his veins flowed with crystal-pure desire and need and…Gilly.

  If she didn’t get out of here within the next three seconds, he wouldn’t be responsible.

  “Okay, Gilly, you did your duty. I’m not a child. No need to tuck me in or bring me cocoa or button my jammies,” he said, rather more savagely than he’d intended.

  “Funny. I never imagined you as the pajamawearing type.” And she had the audacity to wink at him.

  He snapped, “This is not a joke, Gilly.”

  “I know it’s not a joke. I know you could’ve been seriously hurt.” She gave him another one of those mushy, compassionate looks and he groaned. “For all I know, you are seriously hurt. Come on, let’s look.”

  Without asking or hesitating, she leaned over him and summarily dragged off his jacket, first one arm and then the other. “Gilly,” he protested, but she ignored him.

  “You didn’t actually tell me what happened. Were you crushed in the mad rush to the door? Or did somebody take a swing at you because you accidentally pinched his wife’s behind?”

  “Nothing like that,” Luke muttered as she took off his tie. “Let’s just say I have a low pain threshold.”

  “The whole thing was really suspicious, if you ask me.”

  He stiffened. “What?”

  “Tonight.” She frowned down at him. “Why would a gang of pickpockets right out of Oliver Twist decide to crash the Snow Ball? Nothing like that has ever happened before! And why were the mayor and his chum Spivak so darned happy about it?”

  She shook her head, still clutching Luke’s jacket as she spoke. He could practically see the gears turning in that quick little brain, but he was way ahead of her. At least this was a safe topic, miles away from…the other thing.

  “At first I thought the mayor was just exploiting the fact that West Riverside isn’t the safest place around,” Gilly continued. “But now I think he and his pals were actually behind some of the things that have been happening. Like that little creep who came to visit me. And this rash of thefts and fights at the Snow Ball. Very convenient.”

  “Very,” Luke agreed.

  Gilly stood. “I think I should call my old pal Devon Drake and give her the story. I’d love to see our honorable mayor get what’s coming to him.”

  But Luke caught her hand. “There’s more.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He smiled grimly. “Sometimes it pays to be in the wrong place at the right time. When I was outside the school, I overheard Spivak telling one of the thugs what a good job they’d done. He paid him off—gave him a couple of hundred bucks. And when the mayor joined him, Spivak told him they should give the kids a tip for a job well-done.”

  “Don’t you see what that means?” she asked eagerly. “Luke, we have proof! Where’s the phone? If we call Devon right now, maybe she can still get it in tomorrow’s paper.” He lay back, not agreeing, not encouraging, and she stopped short. “Come on, Luke. Don’t you want this over with tonight?”

  Still holding her hand, Luke drew her closer. He had visions of Devon Drake and her cronies invading his house, of interviews and cameras and press conferences. With Nightshade paraphernalia still in his trunk, with no protection from snoops or sensations. Would anyone believe proof delivered by a freak trembling in the corner, overpowered by bright lights and loud noises?

  Sure, he wanted to get the mayor as much as anyone. Just not this moment Not until he had a chance to think about how best to engineer this. “How about if we call Devon in the morning?” he suggested, not above looking a little shaky on purpose. He knew exactly what Gilly’s reaction would be. With a small gasp, a tiny grimace, he said, “I’m really not in the mood tonight.”

  “Oh, dear. Of course you’re not What was I thinking?” Her eyes swept over him quickly. “I don’t see any blood, although you have a bruise on your cheek.” She touched it tentatively, and he swore again before he could stop himself. He might’ve faked the grimace, but when she poked at him like that, the pain was quite real.

  After a moment’s hesitation she reached over and neatly popped off his first shirt stud. “Here, let’s get your shirt and pants off, and you can get some sleep.”

  Gilly’s small, cool hands peeling off his shirt, sliding over his chest, his shoulders? Gilly’s fingers reaching for his pants, rubbing against his hips, his thighs, his…? He wasn’t that crazy.

  “I am neither a child nor a eunuch,” he retorted angrily. “Get your hands off me.”

  “I am aware that you are neither a child nor a eunuch,” she said with dignity. She gazed down at him, and her eyes seemed to rest on the top button of his trousers. Stiffly she added, “Very aware.”

  That was all it took. What was he, a saint? Not on your life.

  He grabbed her hand and reeled her in. She hit the big black bed with a soft plop as he rolled over and trapped her under the hard length of his body. Both of her shoes went flying; he heard them hit the carpet with two short thumps.

  Catching her wrists, Luke propped himself up slightly, holding himself far enough back to gaze down into her emerald eyes. Sensation flooded him, and his nerve endings sang with need and desire. He had tried to hold back, tried to tell himself this was impossible, but it just wasn’t working.

  Not when her body under his felt this good, this right. Not when he could hear and feel every breath she took, every beat of her heart, racing in sync with his own, pumping into his own veins. She was lying so close he could feel the scallops of lace on her panties burning into the inside of his thigh, feel the heat seeping from her skin into his everywhere they connected, along her legs, her hips, her belly.

  “Don’t move,” he breathed.

  Holding himself very still, he took a small moment to savor her warmth and softness, to taste the strong current of excitement emanating from her, even the small frisson of fear. Fear? If she only knew what he knew—that this whole thing might blow up in their faces.

  But damn it, he wasn’t going to believe that could be true. Making love to her couldn’t feel this necessary if it was going to destroy him.

  “Luke? What’s wrong?”

  C
arefully, quickly, he said, “I’ve been trying not to think about this, Gilly, because Lord knows what will happen. But I can’t go back. I can’t make this—whatever it is—not happen.”

  Her eyes were wide and dazed. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

  There wasn’t time to explain it. I’m a freak with superacute senses and I don’t know what making love will do. If I blow up in your arms, just remember it was worth it.

  So he decided to reduce things to their most basic level.

  “You and me. Here and now,” he said tersely. “I want to make love to you.”

  He could see her breath catch in her throat. She scrambled to a sitting position to face him more fully, bracketing his jaw with her hands. Gilly’s eyes were searching, unsure.

  “Luke, I want to. I’ve never wanted anything more. But I don’t want to hurt you. You were ill.” She put a hand to his forehead as if testing his temperature. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Damn it. He didn’t want her to worry about him. He wanted her to want him, to feel the same kind of uncontrollable fever he did.

  “Forget about everything but now,” he ordered. He yanked her into his lap, wrapped her legs around his waist and then bent his head to kiss her full on the lips. Clasping her hard against him, he got the reverberation of every tiny tremor that rocked her, and he loved every minute of it. As his tongue delved into her mouth, he heard the tiny moan that escaped her, and he felt the shivers dancing deep within her.

  He knew he was being unfair and he didn’t care. Roughly he held her hands in front of him, shaking her with his words. “Say yes, Gilly,” he commanded. “Let me love you.”

  “Love me?” Under his fingers, he could feel her pulse racing in her wrists, rocketing so fast he was afraid she might faint on him. But you would never have known it from her wide, joy-filled smile. Gilly, his Gilly, looped her arms around his neck, tightened her knees around his waist and kissed him back with every ounce of enthusiasm and energy she possessed. “Yes,” she said clearly. “Oh, yes.”

  He could read it in her smile and in her eyes. His senses might be better than anyone else’s, but they didn’t include mind reading. They didn’t need to. He knew. Gilly loved him and she trusted him. She always had.

  Making love to her would be the most natural, least risky thing he’d ever done. It had to be.

  She laughed, a sound so pure and bright it almost hurt his ears, then she wriggled down to drop kisses on his nose, his cheeks, his jaw. She nibbled at his lips and slid her tongue along the edge of his ear. If he felt any twinge of pain, any warning his senses were in danger, he ignored it. He had waited too long and become too greedy to let anything interfere now.

  With a surge of power, he realized he felt fine. Wonderful. Strong. Sure. Touching her and drinking her in seemed to be insulating his jagged nerves better than any remedy he’d tried so far.

  “I’ll have to remember this,” he murmured. “If I’m feeling a little edgy, I’ll just make love to you for about six hours until my senses are all damped down.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured as he sent a roving hand under her dress to cup her bottom and center her directly on his lap. “You’re displaying an awful lot of energy for someone who didn’t look so good an hour ago.”

  “I conserved my strength,” he said, sliding his tongue down the slope of her neck.

  “Ohhh…” she sighed, hooking her knee around him, angling closer, shivering, sending new sparks of hunger and impatience through him. “You’ve conserved enough. Time to spend.”

  “I really love this dress,” he said with a wicked grin, skimming his fingers up under it. He sketched circles around the curve of her derriere, under the lace edge of her panties, around to the inside of her thigh, making her gasp with pleasure and surprise. Her moans gave him plenty of pleasure in return. “This little skirt has been driving me insane all night.”

  “It’s driving me pretty insane at the moment, too,” she whispered in a shaky voice, catching him around the neck, tugging him back down to her mouth, urging him on faster with her eager kiss, twisting her arms around him, plastering the front of her dress against his chest.

  “Slow down,” he whispered, holding back just a bit.

  He could tell she was eager to get on with this, but then she never had been one to hang back when she knew what she wanted. Well, for once in her life, Gilly was just going to have to be patient and let him set the pace.

  And while he was at it, he made sure the pace he set was excruciating, intoxicating, maddening. He teased her mercilessly, barely grazing her neck and her chin with his wet mouth, sliding his hands over the smooth fabric at her waist and her breasts, leaving a trail of sparks, but never staying long enough to put out any fires.

  As she fisted her hands around his collar, his fingers covered hers. “What’s your rush?” he asked, swallowing her objections with a kiss.

  A moment later he abandoned her lips, pressing her hands out to her sides, pushing her back into the soft bed, capturing and pinning her as he continued that paralyzing trail of sweet slick kisses. He licked her breast through the fabric of her dress, biting down on her nipple, smiling in satisfaction when she arched up to meet him, to bring herself closer, nearer, more fully into his mouth.

  He was happy to oblige.

  It was amazing how her skin felt—hot, slick, pulsating—as he caressed her through the slinky chiffon. The fabric slithered back and forth over her breast almost in counterpoint to his mouth and tongue. She writhed under him, sending him higher and higher.

  “I need to touch you,” she pleaded, but Luke shook his head.

  All around him, he felt and heard and smelled and tasted Gilly, the sensations dancing so fast he couldn’t really take them in. With his hands and mouth on her, with her scent filling his nose, he was swimming in the shocks and aftershocks of his own pleasure. If she so much as crooked one finger on his bare skin, he was.afraid he would go over the top.

  “Be patient,” he whispered. “I’m just getting started.”

  He breathed the words over the damp chiffon, and her nipples peaked in response, as if they were aching for his touch, his mouth. “Ah, Gilly,” he rasped, “I can feel it every time you tremble.” Her whole body was shaking, starting deep inside. He smiled again. He loved the feeling of power her response gave him.

  “Suzette is going to kill me for what I’m doing to her dress,” she said suddenly. “Maybe I should—”

  He cut off her words with a kiss, leaving her breathless and dazed. And then, before she had a chance to react, he reached to the neckline of her dress and slashed it right down the middle. The sound of the fabric ripping into shreds and the sight of her bare skin, reacting subtly to the cool night air, was shocking, stirring.

  Carelessly Luke tossed the scraps of chiffon aside. “We’ll get Suzette a new dress.”

  He sat back, his eyes raking her, his mouth suddenly dry. If he licked his lips, would it be insulting? But my, oh, my. All she was wearing was a pair of thin panties and a garter belt and stockings.

  “Did you do this on purpose to drive me crazy?” he inquired, reaching slowly, delicately, to pop open her garters. The smooth silky skin at the top of her thigh was warm, and he could see the ripple of sensation on her skin as he stroked one finger around the edge of the sheer stocking.

  Gilly swallowed, hard. “If you don’t like it, I could take it off,” she said quickly.

  Luke just grinned. “Let me.” First one sleek stocking and then the other. That done, he reached under her and stripped off her panties in a motion so fast he could tell it caught her by surprise. His hand moved between them, tweaking her, stroking her, until she pressed into him, aching for release. But Luke held her back.

  She moaned, frustrated. “Please, Luke. I can’t wait.”

  “You will wait.”

  “No,” she said tersely, “I won’t.”

  And then she shoved her hands inside his shirt, scattering shirt studs every which wa
y as she pulled the garment off his smooth muscled chest, making room for her hungry hands and mouth.

  Luke felt a quick surge of burning electricity, as tiny lights burst in the periphery of his vision, and small indistinct shocks flickered in the depths of his body. He ignored them. Cupping her bottom in his hands, he sat back, pulling her up into his lap again, making her feel the hot throb of his desire underneath her bare skin. Was he breathing? He wasn’t sure. Even breathing had become difficult.

  But then, nothing was easy anymore. He couldn’t move fast enough, touch enough, taste enough.

  This time, when her fingers scrambled for the top of his pants, unfastening, searching, he didn’t pull back, didn’t put on the brakes. He brushed her hands away and took care of the pants himself.

  And then it was just the two of them, skin to skin. He’d never felt anything smoother, hotter, more amazing in his life, as her body fitted itself to the contours of his. Head to toe, perfect fit.

  He had no room to think anymore. All he knew were three words.

  Pleasure. Exquisite. Gilly.

  He had given his heightened senses free rein before, but not let them arch this high. Skating on the edge of something new and powerful, he was scared out of his wits, and yet, it was the most unbelievable and wonderful feeling of his life. Before, he had felt alone with his crazy powers. Now he felt together, melded, one.

  He kissed her sweetly and deeply, and then he rested his forehead on hers for just a second.

  “Now?” he whispered.

  “Now.” He felt her smile more than saw it. “Make love to me, Luke.”

  And with one slick thrust, he pushed inside.

  The shocks were wild now—stormy, spiky, sensational. “Yes,” he managed to rasp. It was heaven, it was madness, and he could feel the vibrations down to his soul.

  He couldn’t distinguish between sounds and smells and touches anymore, couldn’t tell where she started and he stopped. It was all blurring into one major current of heat and light.

  “Yes,” he said again, holding her tighter, stroking her higher, feeling her shattering climax with every filament in his body. “Gilly, I love you.”