He pulled back instantly. “Damn.” How could he have let that happen? He’d made a solemn vow to himself. Two weeks ago, when he’d left her standing alone in the cemetery. Alone and abused and terrified.
I’ll never let Ray hurt her again.
If that meant he could never allow himself to touch her, to kiss her, then that was the way it had to be.
He stood and stepped away, putting distance between them. “Forgive me, Kit. I promised myself I wouldn’t...” He looked at her then, leaning on her arm now that he’d withdrawn the support of his body. “You know,” he finished.
She was silent a long moment. “Because of him.”
“Yes.”
“Because you can’t control him when you’re with me. That’s what you said.”
He nodded.
She sat up and pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “Was it happening? Just now? Was he... trying to come out?”
He stared at her, realization dawning as her words sank in. “No.” He frowned, trying to remember what had happened inside him when he’d kissed Kit. It was beautiful. Sweet and giving and untainted. It was just him kissing her. Just Noah.
But why? Why this reprieve, when every time before...?
She said, “I didn’t think so. I could tell.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “Maybe you can control him better than you think.”
He sat next to her, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees, rubbing the back of his neck. Thinking. When he’d first come downstairs and he was holding her, crushing her to him, it was just the two of them then, too. No Ray.
Why? What was the secret ingredient that made tonight different from that time at the cemetery? From that first kiss in his attic, for that matter?
He thought about those encounters, how his desire for her had come on sharp and swift, sweeping him up in a tidal wave of raw lust, creating an all-consuming physical need that blocked out everything else. Their surroundings. Her trepidation. His feelings for her.
His feelings for her.
He looked at her, staring back so solemnly in the moonlight. When she’d sought him out tonight in her fear, reached out to him for shelter and strength, it had triggered something in him. Something straight from the heart. From the gut. He’d responded with a soul-searing intensity he hadn’t known he was capable of.
Could that be it? Could the power of his feelings for Kit, those tender and protective impulses, be greater than the power of the malevolent thing inside him? Is that what had held it at bay tonight? The strength of his love?
Now that he’d put a label to what he felt for her, he could deny it no longer. Could lie to himself no longer. He wished he could, because the simple fact was, he could never have her.
I love you, Kit. God help me, but I do.
The very fact that she was here, despite everything that had happened, was proof that she cared for him in return, at least a little. He reached out to stroke her cheek, and she closed her eyes and leaned into the caress. Ever so slightly, as if she didn’t want to but was powerless to stop herself.
Could he risk it? If he allowed himself to touch her, kiss her, at some point his body’s raging need would take over, and then what?
He dropped his hand. Pulled his gaze from hers.
“Noah?” He felt the tentative touch of her fingers on his arm. “I want to understand,” she whispered. “I should’ve let you explain before, when you wanted to—”
“No,” he growled. “You owed me nothing. Not after what I did to you.”
“But it wasn’t you. Not really. I understand that now.”
No. You don’t.
“Noah.” Her fingers tightened on his arm as she tried to make him face her. “Please look at me.”
“I’m afraid to,” he admitted, with a raw, self-deprecating chuckle, “because I want to do so much more than look.”
She rested her forehead on his shoulder. Her gentle sigh stirred the hairs on his arm and sent ripples of sensation skittering along his nerve endings. It was a lonely sound, and far too eloquent for his peace of mind. That sigh said, What are we going to do, you and I? It said she shared his pain, his sense of loss.
Instinctively he turned toward her, pressed his lips to the top of her head. She lifted her sad eyes to his, and in that moment he knew that no power on earth could keep him from kissing her again. Her lips felt like warm satin under his. He slid his hand behind her neck and brushed his mouth over hers in whisper-soft strokes. Trying to say with his actions what he couldn’t allow himself to say in words.
Her mouth trembled under his, even as it parted slightly. Gently he tugged on her lower lip. Her eyes drifted shut and she leaned into him. He flicked his tongue, urging her to admit him. Her mouth closed over the tip and drew it in, sucking it and teasing it with her own.
His body responded immediately, and so did Ray. Just a whiff of him, in his dark corner biding his time, like a carnivore silently stalking his prey. Noah froze for an instant. This was the way it had started the last time. Before he knew it, he’d dropped his shields and the thing had taken over.
But it didn’t have to be that way. He’d seen that tonight. This beautiful, responsive woman in his arms wasn’t just any woman. She was too good for Ray. I love you, Kit, he thought. I always will. His heartfelt pledge was a cleansing flame, obliterating all traces of the other man. Purifying his soul. At least for the moment.
Awestruck, heady with his new power, he tore his mouth from Kit’s and stared down into her eyes, fluttering open now, her expression drugged. Before that delicious look could evaporate, he tipped his head to hers once more, enfolding her in his arms, crushing her to his chest. This kiss was possessive, demanding, tenderness giving way to hunger. He was instantly hard, his body pulsating with the need to fill her, to claim her completely. And still it was just him—no trace of another man’s consciousness burrowing into his own.
I love you, Kit.
When had her hands come up to clutch his shoulders? When had he slid off the window seat to kneel facing her? Still kissing her, he dragged her to the edge of the seat with her legs on either side of him, her dress bunching. Gripping her bottom, he arched into her, driving his throbbing erection against the softness between her legs. She moaned softly into his mouth, and he felt a shudder rip through her. Breathless, she pulled back a little, sliding her palms down to his chest. As he watched, that sleepy look of desire evaporated, to be replaced by something closer to anxiety. He knew what she was thinking.
“It’s okay, darlin’,” he murmured, smoothing her hair, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. “You were right. I can control him.” Even as he reassured her, he felt unwelcome stirrings from that dark corner deep inside—and effortlessly snuffed them out. Simply by focusing on Kit and what she meant to him. By allowing himself to acknowledge his feelings for her.
As if freed of a burden, she relaxed into his embrace then, wriggling to fit herself more closely to him. She stroked his sides, his shoulders. Slid her restless fingertips down his back and under the waistband of his running shorts, wringing a guttural moan from him. “Kit, I need you. God, I need you so much.” Instinctively he ground against her in emulation of the act they both craved, and reveled in the answering thrust of her hips.
Sighing raggedly, she let her head drop back until it touched the window seat. He slid a hand under her bowed back to support her. The moon painted her with silver highlights, from the rippling halo of her hair to the delicate bone structure of her face to her supple body, arched as if in offering. It was an offering he greedily accepted as his fingers and mouth closed over a soft breast.
A hoarse cry broke from her as he sucked hard on her tight nipple through her dress and bra, his insistent fingers kneading her soft flesh, shaping her for his hungry mouth. She writhed against him as he continued the erotic assault on the other breast, her panting gasps coming faster and faster. Her legs circled his hips, and he knew she was close to the edge.
He’d boos
ted himself off his knees without realizing it, to stay fitted to her, his erection throbbing mercilessly against her softness, the way barred by layers of fabric. Her dark, passion-glazed eyes locked with his, and she whimpered, “Noah!” and he knew they’d never make it to the bedroom. “Please...” It was a breathless whisper, nipping at the last lingering thread of his self-control.
He shifted position just long enough to drag off his shorts and her panties. He shoved her dress up, tilted her hips. He rocked against her, nudging her open with his aching shaft, feeling her slippery velvet heat close around the tip. He tensed, practically snarling as he willed himself to slow down, even as his body screamed for a savage thrust and sweet completion. Never before had he felt this blind, raging need. But then, never before had he felt any of the wondrous new things Kit made him feel.
Her eyes were glassy, half-closed. Watching him. Trusting him. He whispered, “Yes, darlin’. Trust me.” He lifted her head and pressed his lips to hers, flexing his hips as he began to fill her, inhaling her sharp gasp. She was exceedingly tight, and he stopped short of plunging in to the hilt, afraid of hurting her, groaning with the effort of holding back.
She broke the kiss, breathless and gasping. She thrashed beneath him, strained against him, as if trying to force him deeper. Just knowing she felt his penetration as keenly as he did made his heart swell and sent him over the edge. Lifting her hips, he drove fully into her, shouting under the impact of it, as if the stark pleasure were a physical blow. An answering sob of fulfillment tore from her throat as her body quivered around his, tightened and released, adapting to the length and breadth of him.
With a harsh growl he withdrew and rammed in again, setting a fast, hammering pace that she matched with equal fervor, each recoil of their hips followed by a thrust more savage than the last.
He murmured things to her then, things both sacred and profane, things he forgot the instant he uttered them. And she whimpered, “Yes... yes...” as her fingers bit into his buttocks and her head whipped back and forth. She sank her sharp teeth into his upper arm, and he smiled. “Noah!” she rasped. Her climax was seconds away, and his would be fast on its heels.
The evil thing inside Noah raised its head... looked at Kit through his eyes... wrapped its malignant tentacles around his mind, squeezing out his will.
No! He went still, shaking and sweating, his heartbeat deafening.
She stared up at him, and he saw comprehension widen her eyes, felt her body stiffen under his. Her harsh breathing filled his ears as she pushed futilely on his arms and tried to twist away. He averted his face, as if, by doing so, he could assuage her panic, and his own.
He fought the thing, but it was no good. Ray was winning, and the son of a bitch knew it. Noah could feel him smirking.
No!
And then he remembered. That wasn’t the way. That way didn’t work. He closed his eyes and dropped his face into the silky nimbus of Kit’s hair. Drew the scent of her, the feel of her, into himself. Let the essence of what she meant to him fill his mind and his heart. He forced himself to remember her earlier fear and the overwhelming rush of love it had triggered in him. The need to keep her safe. To make her happy.
He thought about the rightness of this act, the joining of their bodies and their hearts in love. Ray had no place here.
The thing vanished. Blinked out of his consciousness with a suddenness that left him reeling. Noah raised his head and shook it, orienting himself. Sweat sprayed off his hair, but Kit didn’t seem to notice. She still stared, with that mixture of dread and betrayal that twisted his gut. Trust me, he’d told her. How could he have been so arrogant?
He stroked damp strands of hair off her face, and she jerked her head away. “Shh... Kit...” he whispered, making her look at him so she could see. “It’s me, darlin’, just me. Noah.” She studied his face. “I promise, it’s just me.”
He punctuated the claim with a kiss of exquisite tenderness, his lips lingering on hers, reverently, until he felt her start to relax. He began to move within her once more, but he sensed her distraction. She watched him, her wary eyes never leaving his.
Mentally he cursed Ray. I won’t let you do this, you bastard. You won’t take Kit away from me.
He was determined to reclaim the magic they’d shared moments before. Which meant he couldn’t allow her to stare at his eyes, waiting for the thing to return. Withdrawing from her, he gently turned her over, pulling her down until she was kneeling in front of him, bent over the window seat, facing the window and the inky back lawn beyond. Not him.
“Noah?” She tried to peer over her shoulder at him, but he pressed his mouth close to her ear and whispered to her as he raised her skirt and parted her thighs with his own. Words of encouragement, words of longing, the content less important, he sensed, than the sound of his voice. Noah’s voice.
Soothingly he stroked her hip, his hand gliding over the jutting bone to her belly, then lower, into the triangle of crisp hair and the moist folds it shielded. She drew in a sharp breath as her hips twitched backward in reflex, before rolling forward into the caress of his fingers. He took his time, stoking the banked embers, denying himself the sweetness of her body until he was sure she was with him again.
His slick fingers moved higher to circle and stroke the tiny bud. She shuddered, then rocked her hips to the cadence he set, her breath coming short and fast. He plucked at that most sensitive part of her and she gasped his name, digging her fingers into the upholstery of the window seat.
And still he crooned endearments, not giving her a chance to focus on anything but the pleasure of her body and her need to join it with his. Only when she squirmed back against his straining flesh, mindlessly seeking him, did he give in. The shock of raw pleasure as he embedded himself in her was as intense as the first time. They drove themselves into each other, moving as one, while his fingers continued their erotic torment, propelling her toward the climax Ray had cheated her out of minutes before.
He lifted her heavy hair and lowered his mouth to the side of her throat in a hungry, ruthless kiss meant to be felt over the pounding of his body into hers. She gave a little start and a whimper of pleasure as his teeth scraped her skin and drew together to nip her. He alternately nibbled, licked, and sucked the sensitive flesh until her whimpers turned rhythmic and breathless, testing the limits of his self-control.
“Now, Kit,” he demanded. “Now, darlin’. Now!”
Her gasping cries reached a crescendo as her body shuddered violently, her release pulsating around him. Still caressing her, prolonging her pleasure, he sought his own then, each fierce lunge bringing him closer to joining her. Then the throbbing incandescence crashed over him, swept him up in its fury, and he roared with the force of it, bucking violently as he poured himself into her.
His last coherent thought as he collapsed against her was, I love you, Kit.
Chapter Eleven
WHY WAS ETTA knocking on her door?
With effort Kit dragged herself out of the haze of slumber. She lay sprawled on her stomach under a light sheet and blanket, her face pressed into the pillow. She inhaled deeply of the scent that clung to the bed linens—his scent—and smiled groggily, before her befogged mind put the pieces together and her eyes snapped open. She squinted against the late-morning sunlight flooding the room. Noah’s room.
The tapping came again from behind the solid oak door. Lazily she flipped over and pulled the sheet up to cover her naked body. She grinned. Foolish modesty, after last night.
Noah’s voice was a low, seductive drawl from the other side of the door. “You awake, darlin’?”
She giggled like an adolescent and stretched languidly. Darlin’. Dipped in Dixie honey, no less. She’d never get over it.
“Yeah,” she croaked, and cleared her throat. “I’m awake. Come on in.”
A slight pause. “You’re going to have to unlock the door.”
She frowned. Unlock it? She knew she hadn’t locked the door. Noah
had tucked her into his bed last night—well, this morning—after undressing her in the dark and fighting back his obvious urge to make love to her again. Then he’d kissed her and left the room.
“Kit?”
And locked himself out?
“I’m coming.” She slipped out of bed, wrapping the sheet around her. She’d wanted him to stay with her last night, to sleep with her. She’d wanted to wake up next to his warm body, her legs tangled with his.
But he’d left her, with no explanation, and she’d been too proud to ask him to stay. His bed had felt cold and lonely as she’d stared at the moon and felt the welcome soreness where he’d made her whole.
She turned the lock and opened the door and swallowed back the little gasp of awe that threatened to escape.
Noah leaned with his palm high on the doorframe, as big and broad and virile as she’d ever seen him. He wore only snug, faded jeans, half-zipped, as if he’d stepped into them about a second ago. A wedge of tawny hair adorned his chest, arrowing into the gaping, low-slung waistband. If he was wearing underwear, she saw no evidence of it. He ran long fingers through his disheveled hair, further rumpling it until the short, fair strands stuck up at odd angles.
His smiling eyes homed in on her, one part boyish charm and two parts potent male animal as his unapologetic gaze loitered on the thin sheet she clutched to her breasts. She didn’t know whether to smooth down his hair or throw off the sheet and hurl herself at him.
Nothing in her experience—or her imagination, for that matter—had prepared her for last night. When he’d joined his body with hers, she’d felt him everywhere inside her at once, stretching and filling her to the extreme, testing the limits of her body and her heart. Completing her. And when he’d forced her over the edge into that soul-shattering climax, nothing had existed for her but Noah. He’d been the totality of her universe.
A Case of You Page 16