Her lips were warm and soft upon first contact, her mouth sweet and generous when it opened to meet the glide of his tongue. The kiss was slow and lazy, but before long the tenor changed, growing more hungry and urgent as hands began to wander and the fragile emotions surrounding them mingled with desire.
The kiss went on and on, priming them both for a more intimate act of love. Mouths still fused, she twisted and turned in his lap, and he helped her, guiding her with his hands until she faced him and her legs straddled his hips. By then, they were both breathing hard, and Grey was about to split the zipper on his shorts.
They both knew what was going to happen, but that only heightened their excitement. Hastily he shoved the straps of her negligee down her arms until the bodice bunched around her waist, leaving her gloriously bare for his pleasure. As he watched, her breasts swelled and grew taut. Leaning forward, he dragged his tongue over a budding nipple, then suckled her breast until she cried out, her fingers gripping his shoulders.
Finally he pulled back, letting his hands finish where his mouth had left off. "So, I guess I oughta show you just how much I love you, huh?" he teased, giving her the same sweet dose of medicine she'd given him the night they'd gone to dinner. The night he realized he was in love.
She arched shamelessly into the palms cupping her breasts. "Yeah, maybe you should," she said as she went to work tugging his shirt from the waistband of his shorts.
He was certain she could feel the wild beating of his heart against his chest. A heart brimming with so much feeling and emotion it was near to bursting. "Just in case you might have some doubts," he added, toeing off his shoes.
Her eyes sparkled with humor and love. "Yeah, just in case," she agreed.
Once he'd pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, he reached between them, unbuckled his belt and released his zipper. Leaning back in his chair while she shifted her weight, he pushed both his shorts and briefs down his thighs and kicked off the restraining garments.
There was so much more he wanted to do to her, but the need to be inside her obliterated everything else. Sliding his hands inside that strategic slit in the gown, he gripped the backs of her thighs and pulled her forward the same time he thrust his hips upward. The smooth tip of his erection glided through slick folds of flesh and found its home deep, deep within her body. She arched into him with a sharp, breathless cry. Groaning roughly, he buried his face in the fragrant curve of her neck and grazed his teeth along her throat.
He let her set the rhythm of their mating, enthralled by the wanton way she took her pleasure from him. His lips and tongue paid homage to her breasts, while his hands stroked her belly, her quivering thighs and eventually where they joined. His thumb circled and rubbed, and he whispered words of encouragement, and then more explicit demands her body had no defense against.
She came apart for him on a convulsive shudder and a whimper that echoed in his soul. Capturing her mouth with his, he moaned as his own climax ripped through him, hotter than fire and sweeter than the promise of heaven.
Love, he decided, made all the difference in the world.
Mariah wrapped her arms around his neck and sank drowsily against him, heartbeat to heartbeat. Their bodies were damp, their breathing labored. After a few minutes of rest she whispered against his throat, "Tell me again, Grey."
Shutting his eyes, he swept his hand down her back, savoring the flood of feelings only she evoked in him. "Oh, God, Mariah. I do love you."
He felt her smile against his shoulder. "I knew you did."
"Woman, you're gonna kill me," Grey muttered as he lay on top of Mariah, still inside her, in the aftermath of their lovemaking. He felt totally satiated and downright exhausted after she'd taken advantage of his body. Again.
He'd carried her from the kitchen to the bedroom after the first time they'd made love, and she hadn't given him much time to recuperate before she'd shimmied out of that scrap of nothing and pulled him to her with a renewed vigor he couldn't help but respond to.
"At least you'll die a happy man," she said, skimming her palms down his muscled back to his buttocks.
Deep laughter rumbled in his chest. "Yeah, what a way to go." He groaned in her ear as she tensed inner muscles around him, then he lifted his head to look at her. "Lord, where did you learn to do that?"
"Jade loaned me some interesting books of hers." A sly smile curved her well-kissed mouth. The soft glow from the bedside lamp emphasized the mischievous gleam in her eyes. "I wouldn't want you to get bored with the predictable stuff."
Not in a million years, he thought. Separating their bodies, he lay back on the bed and gathered her close to his side, reveling in the simple pleasure of just holding her. "With you, making love has never been, and never will be, predictable."
Draping herself along his upper body, she stacked her hands on his chest and propped her chin on top. "Yeah, well, you've pulled a few unpredictable stunts of your own lately."
"Like?"
"All those flowers and sexy lingerie you sent me when we first broke up."
Plucking the pins from the knot of hair on her head, he plowed all ten fingers through the mass of silk. "Someone told me that women like to be romanced."
She rolled her eyes, then groaned when he stroked and massaged the warm nape of her neck. "Mark, no doubt, womanizer that he is."
He grinned wolfishly. "Yeah, but I have to admit his idea worked."
Closing her eyes, she relaxed as his hands moved to rub the muscles along her shoulders and the slope of her back. "Umm, it was kinda nice being spoiled like that," she admitted, a dreamy quality to her voice. "And what about kidnapping me?"
"Sheer desperation. And that worked, too."
"Only because I felt sorry for you."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
Her sigh fluttered the light sprinkling of hair on his chest. She blinked her lashes open. "If I really wanted to find a way home I would have. I wanted to be with you, and I'm soo glad I came."
"Yeah, me, too." His finger traced the notches in her spine, and she arched against him like a sleek cat.
"I have to say, though, that this is the most unpredictable stunt you've pulled so far."
"What stunt is that?" he murmured suggestively. "The one in the chair, or the one at the foot of the bed when I pulled your legs around my-"
She gave him a playful pinch in the side, and he yelped. "I'm talking about the ring, Grey."
"Oh, the ring." Smiling, he smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear, keeping his gaze on hers. "I guess that's the kind of irrational thing you do when you're in love. Of course, I can only assume my spontaneous behavior is related to love since I've never been in love before you."
"I'm glad I'm your first," she said in a seductive tone, and lightly rolled his nipple between her fingers.
"Yeah, me, too." He sucked in a breath as her fingers fluttered along his rib cage. "It's sorta like being a virgin all over again."
She arched a blond brow and drew sensual circles around his navel, then explored lower. "Now there's a fantasy I'd be happy to fulfill for you. Older, more experienced woman tutoring younger virgin boy." Her fingers wrapped around his semierect shaft, which thickened with each of her slow, measured strokes.
He moaned at the images her words projected in his mind, and grasped her hand to stop the sweet torture. "Give me ten more minutes for my poor body to recuperate from our first two stunts, and then I'll be happy to let you show me just how experienced you are."
Mariah pressed a kiss on his chest then snuggled into his side. They had the rest of their lives to indulge in fantasies. For now, she was content to bask in the triumph of Grey's declaration of love and the ring he'd put on her finger.
Lifting her left hand, she admired the band of sparkling rubies and diamonds, and the marquis set in the center of the exquisite, original design. It wasn't a traditional wedding ring by today's standards, but then Grey wasn't the traditional sort.
A grin
tipped her mouth, and a giddy feeling tickled her belly. Her parents were going to be thrilled about her engagement to Grey. No doubt her mother would be anxious to help her plan the wedding, and her father wouldn't spare any expense on the grand event to finally see one of his daughters married.
She glanced up at Grey. His eyes were closed, but the fingers brushing along the curve of her waist told her he was awake. She supposed she ought to see if he had a preference for a particular date to exchange vows before they told her parents the good news.
"So, when do you want to get married, Grey?" she asked, unable to contain the excitement working its way to the surface. "I've always wanted a winter wedding, but I wouldn't mind getting married in the spring. Which do you prefer?"
The sudden tension in his body was nearly tangible. The fingers stroking her skin stilled, and his eyes slowly opened and met hers, dark and remote.
"Mariah, I never said anything about marriage." His voice was deceptively calm, though the muscle ticking in his jaw belied his tension.
Dread churned in the pit of her stomach, and she tamped down the knot working its way up her throat. This had to be an awful nightmare, but the pricking heat along her nerves confirmed she was wide-awake. Had she somehow misunderstood Grey's intentions? "But you said you loved me," she whispered, hearing the confusion in her own voice.
His heart thundered violently beneath the palm she rested on his chest. "I do love you," he said gruffly.
She shook her head, not comprehending how he could love her, offer her a ring, but stop short of fulfilling that commitment. "And the ring?"
He pulled his arm from around her, withdrawing physically as well as emotionally, and sat up on the edge of the bed, his back to her. "It's not a bridal set," he pointed out tightly. "I made sure of that."
She shivered, and grabbed for the quilt. She felt cold. The kind of chill that settled deep and clung to your bones. "A 'bridal set' is anything you deem it to be," she said, swallowing back burning tears. "I'd proudly wear a ring from a Cracker Jack box to be your wife, Grey. If this ring you gave me isn't meant to be a wedding ring, then what would you call it?"
He wouldn't look at her. Silence filled the room, and the longer it stretched between them, the angrier Mariah became. She wanted to hit him, hard. Wanted to rail at him for making her believe that they could have a secure future together. Their relationship had seemed so hopeful after their week together. She'd been hopeful.
And so very wrong.
Her nerves snapped. "Dammit, Grey, answer me. You owe me at least that much."
His head whirled around and he glared at her, but there was pain in his gaze, too. And fear. "Why are you making this more complicated than it has to be?"
She lifted her chin, unwilling to back down on what she believed in. Marriage. A forever kind of commitment. Them. "Answer me. Why did you give me this ring?"
"It's the ultimate expression of how I feel about you." He hesitated. When she didn't respond, just waited for more of an answer, he took a deep breath and continued. "I love you. Right now, at this moment, I can't imagine anyone else in my life-"
"But that's subject to change?" she interrupted bitterly.
"Yes, I mean, no!" He jumped up and rounded the bed with a fierce curse. Grabbing the first thing he found, his sweatpants, he yanked them on. "Dammit, Mariah, that's not what I said. Quit putting words in my mouth," he said heatedly. "You know how I feel about marriage, and that hasn't changed. I doubt it ever will."
A strangled sound escaped her. Oh, God. Her heart was breaking, and she feared it would never mend. A horrifying sense of deja vu wrapped around her. They'd had a similar conversation a few months ago when he'd asked her to live with him.
Despite all her efforts the past week, nothing had changed. Grey hadn't changed.
Get up and walk out, her mind urged, but her heart demanded more answers. Numbly, she slipped from the bed and started putting on the clothes she'd left out to wear home tomorrow. "What makes you think my feelings about marriage have changed?"
A deep frown creased his brows. "I thought we'd come to an understanding about our relationship."
Her brittle laughter masked the devastation tearing her apart inside. Apparently they'd come to vastly different conclusions about where their relationship was heading and where it would end. "Funny, I thought you knew I wouldn't settle for less than marriage." She'd believed they were working toward a common goal-to spend the rest of their lives together.
"And after everything I shared with you, about my parents, my mother and my childhood, I thought you understood my views on marriage." He dragged his fingers roughly through his hair. "I never led you to believe differently."
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. He was absolutely right. The only comment she could use to refute his point was that she'd hoped she could show him how good a relationship could be between a husband and wife, and change his mind. Apparently he didn't care how wonderful a marriage could be.
She buttoned the front of her light cotton dress, realizing in that moment that they'd both secretly hoped to sway the other to their way of thinking. And when it came right down to it, neither of them was willing to surrender their beliefs for the other.
"I guess I'd hoped you'd see how special what we have is," she said, her voice quiet.
"I do see how special what we have is," he said impatiently.
"But it's not special enough for you to marry me."
His jaw clenched hard. "I never said that."
"Not in so many words, but you might as well have, because that's what this discussion comes down to." She pulled in a big breath of air, needing the oxygen to go on. "You want me to wear your ring, but you don't want any of the responsibilities or the ultimate commitment that goes with it."
He turned away, walking to the window that faced the lake, which shimmered with the reflection of the rising moon. "I knew buying you that ring wasn't a good idea," he muttered in disgust.
"Then why did you?" she asked boldly.
"I told you why." He glanced over his shoulder, pinning her with his gaze. "I love you, Mariah."
Why isn't that enough? The unspoken question hung between them. Because I want a husband who will cherish me, and I want children to love. I want one special man to spend the rest of my life with, not the insecurity of wondering when the magic was going to end-and be left: with nothing more than the ashes of memories. I want to make memories, and pass them on to our family.
But she didn't think Grey would understand her dreams. "So, essentially, you want me to live with you, sleep in your bed, wash your underwear and wear a ring that tells any man who looks at my ring finger that I'm taken, but at any given moment you could decide that you're no longer in love and that living with a woman cramps your style?"
Irritation flashed in his gaze. "You make it sound like some kind of impersonal arrangement."
"It might as well be." She twisted the ring off her finger, feeling like she was physically severing herself from him, and set it on the nightstand next to his wallet. "This ring means nothing."
He looked from the ruby-and-diamond band to her, trying his best to conceal his hurt expression, and failing. "It means everything to me."
Unfortunately, their "everythings" differed dramatically. "Not to me. Not without marriage."
"I have no intention of getting married. Ever," he said succinctly, and not without a little hostility. "Why can't we just enjoy what we have for as long as it lasts?"
"Because I want it to last forever."
He sliced a hand impatiently through the air. "A piece of paper declaring us husband and wife hardly guarantees happily ever after."
"No, it doesn't. It's up to you and I to work together to make our life happy." She came around the bed toward him. Ludicrous as it seemed, she wanted to be near him for what precious moments were left of their unraveling relationship. "There are no guarantees in life, Grey. Maybe we'll divorce or, God forbid, maybe one of us will die tomorrow."
"And there's no guarantee that love will last," he argued.
"You're absolutely right." She stood in front of him, resisting the impulse to reach out and touch his tense body. "I know you've seen the worst of marriages and relationships, but I've seen some of the best. You can't let the horrible way your father treated you and your mother's obsession about being loved influence your life and the chance to be happy with one special woman."
He said nothing, just stared at her, his eyes darkening with a despair that made her heart ache.
"People stay in love, Grey, as long as the couple continually works at it," she went on, a desperate part of her hoping she still had a chance in heaven of influencing him. "Love is fragile. For it to grow, it has to be nurtured and never taken for granted. People grow apart and divorce because they stop caring about each other, their family and the commitment they've made."
A mocking smile curled the corner of his mouth. "What makes you so sure that won't happen to us?"
His cynicism cut deeply. "I'm not sure, but as long as we communicate and respect one another, I think we could be really good together. You're my best friend, and I'd do whatever I could to make you happy."
"And I want to make you happy. I just don't think we need marriage for that." His voice rose in frustration. "Why complicate things?"
"Because I don't want to have children out of wedlock." The words tumbled out of her mouth faster than she could rescind them. But they were the truth, and it was an issue that needed to be discussed.
He blanched. "I never said anything about children."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Except that you don't want them."
His mouth thinned into a grim line. "At least I'm honest about it. Kids need a father who can be there for them emotionally, who can raise them with a gentle but firm touch. I can't do that, Mariah. I don't know how to do that. All I know is the anger and cruelty I learned at my father's knee. I refuse to subject a child to that kind of ugliness."
He turned around and focused his attention somewhere out the window. Very quietly, very defeatedly, he said, "They'd be better off without me as a father."
Private Pleasures Page 15