Come Morning

by Pat Warren

  It couldn’t have been real, the sound he heard. But wait! There it was again, an eerie keening. Romantic foolishness, Slade told himself as he turned back. But what he saw then had him halting again.

  Someone was walking toward him on the beach, but he couldn’t make out who. The globelike streetlamps that dotted the coastal road were dimmed by the falling rain, casting only a small halo of light. Whoever it was had a head bent down, hands in their pockets much as he had, eyes downcast, probably as lost in thought as he. He stood waiting, wondering, unable to stop the sudden acceleration of his heart.

  No, it couldn’t be, could it?

  Perhaps a hundred yards away, the person became aware of him and slowed. Over the sound of the rain, he heard a sharp cry and then she began running toward him. Recognition slammed into Slade and he set off to meet her.

  Blood pounding, Brie sprinted to him, abandoning her hopeless thoughts, her fears. Forgetting everything except there he was, the man she’d been hoping to find, the one she wanted above all others.

  Heart thumping, Slade reached her, all but colliding with her, grasping her body to his and fastening his mouth on hers. She was here, she was in his arms, she was kissing him like she’d been gone for four years instead of four days. Holding her, he lifted her off her feet and spun around with her, the kiss going on and on while the rain poured down on them. And they didn’t care.

  Finally, needing air, Brie pulled back, trying to make out his features in the dim lighting. “Is it really you? Are you really here?” Her voice was a little hoarse, a little hesitant. All during her long, long walk, she’d become more convinced with each soggy step that he’d left the island, that he’d gone away so he wouldn’t have to deal with the unwanted feelings she’d aroused in him. When she’d looked up and seen him, she wasn’t sure if her hopeful heart had conjured him up like an apparition. But no, his arms around her were firm and strong and his hard body against hers was warm and familiar.

  “Yes, I’m here. You came back.” Slade set her back down on her feet, his hands stroking her hair off her wet face. “I was convinced you weren’t going to.”

  She smiled then, wondering if the dampness on her face was from the rain or her own joyful tears. “I was worried about you. I’d just about convinced myself you’d left Nantucket.”

  A rumble of thunder overhead sounded almost as loud in Slade’s ears as his hammering heart. Could he believe what he was hearing? That was the second time she’d claimed to be worried about him. Could she really want him as much as he wanted her? He didn’t have the words, so instead, he bent his head to kiss her again, long and thoroughly, until he scarcely had the breath to pull back.

  He smiled then, feeling giddy with the sight and sound and feel of her. His mouth close to her ear, he whispered. “I want you. What do you think we should do about that?”

  She nuzzled into his neck. “Find a warm, dry place.”

  “How fast can you run in this?” he asked, glancing up at a liquid sky.

  Her smile was challenging. “Faster than you, I’ll bet.”

  Turning, she began streaking down the beach, clumps of sand flying from her wet sneakers. Grinning foolishly, Slade started after her. He could run faster now, he knew, because his heart wasn’t nearly as heavy.

  Feeling mellow, he let her win the race by a hair, as he followed her onto his porch and dug for his key.

  Breathing hard, Brie toed off her sodden shoes on the wooden floor. “We can’t walk across Jeremy’s white carpeting all dripping wet like this.”

  “The hell we can’t. I’m ripping out that carpeting soon, anyway.” But when he finally got the door open, he slipped off his shoes, too. “Come here.” When she moved closer, he picked her up in his arms, stepped over the threshold, and bumped the door closed with one hip. “Only one set of footprints this way.”

  Unable to stop smiling, Brie wound her arms around his neck and held on. As he climbed the stairs with her, he pressed his mouth to hers in a breathless kiss, one he didn’t break until he’d carried her through Jeremy’s huge master bedroom suite and on into his large bath tiled in several shades of blue.

  Setting her down, he gazed around. “I haven’t used this room yet, but I think it’s time. Feel like a shower?”

  “Mmm, I think we could both use a rinsing off.” Or was it a cooling off? But she didn’t want to cool off. She wanted the heat he offered, the sweet warmth she knew he’d bring to her. After the long months, years of being cold, Brie knew she’d found someone who could warm her again.

  The shower stall was large, enclosed by smoky glass on two sides in the far corner. Even the oversized tub looked inviting. Through the doorway, she could see the mahogany four-poster king-size bed, the room done in blue and white. “Where do you sleep if you haven’t used this room?”

  “Down the hall. There are two spare rooms plus the storage room.” A shadow flickered over his features, then was gone just as quickly. “I haven’t felt comfortable in here, until now.”

  She wasn’t sure just how her presence made a difference, but she was glad he’d overcome another hurdle. With one hand, she gathered her hair to the back, then nodded toward the shower. “Shall I go first?”

  His expression unreadable, he nodded as he pointed to a double rack. “Lots of clean towels, so help yourself.” He walked out, leaving her alone.

  Her nerves skittering, Brie turned on the jets, then slipped out of her wet things, leaving them in a heap in a corner of the tiled floor. Holding up one of the fluffy white towels, she saw that it was generous enough to wrap around herself after her shower. She felt ready to make love with Slade, yet she was just a shade apprehensive, too. It had been an awfully long time, which was just one reason she was glad he’d suggested cleaning up. The first time, at the very least, ought to be special.

  Stepping under the spray, she let the soothing water flow over her before picking up the shampoo.

  Minutes later, intent on rinsing shampoo from her hair, she wasn’t aware that the shower door had opened until she felt a hand on her arm. She jumped back, startled. “Oh!”

  “I couldn’t wait,” Slade said, his voice husky. He saw soapsuds gliding over pale, golden skin, wet blond hair falling past creamy shoulders and suddenly wary brown eyes. In a gesture as old as time, he watched her arm automatically move up to partially conceal her breasts, then drop down as she obviously realized the move was foolish under the circumstances.

  “Don’t hide. Not from me.”

  “I… uh … can step out and give you more room.” Perfectly silly to be self-conscious at this stage of the game, she reminded herself, yet that’s exactly what she was.

  “I don’t need more room. I need you.” Dipping his head into the spray, he pressed his mouth to her breast and heard her draw in a sharp breath. Her knees seemed to sag so he slipped an arm around to steady her as he continued the intimate kiss. In moments, she seemed to sway closer, her flesh more willing for his attention than her mind was yet.

  He shifted his concentration to the other breast and feasted there for long moments. Briana’s arms looped over his shoulders and her head tipped back as a soft moan came from between her parted lips. Slade trailed upward, planting kisses along the lovely line of her throat then captured her mouth. Bodies locked together, they lost track of time.

  Finally, tossing back his wet hair, he reached for the soap and held it out to her. “Help me?”

  Standing to the side out of the spray, she looked at the soap, then at him. Swallowing around a nervous lump, she took the soap into her palm and began skimming along his shoulders, down over biceps hard as rocks all the way to his fingertips. Back up, she moved to lather his chest, swirling the clean, lightly scented soap in the dark hair there. Never having done this before, never having shared a shower even, Brie couldn’t believe how surprisingly sensual it was to feel free to explore and caress the masculine hills and valleys. Her shyness forgotten, her other hand joined its mate to tangle in the incredibly s
oft hair of his chest pausing to outline the firm muscles, then slipping down along his rib cage.

  There she stopped, looking up at him. “Would you like me to wash your hair?”

  His smile was intimate, knowing. “Afraid?”

  She stood her ground, though her pulse stuttered. “No.”

  “Good.” But he let her off the hook and pulled her to him. As she raised her face to the spray, he sent his hand on a journey of discovery, inching lower until he cupped her. He felt a response shudder through her, then his fingers found her and moved inside as her knees threatened to buckle.

  Whirled into a sea of sensation, Brie could do little more than hang on as desire rocketed through her. His mouth was on hers as his clever touch worked its magic. Needs pounded throughout her system, screaming for a release just out of reach. She groaned into his mouth as she strained against him.

  Then suddenly, she was soaring, sailing upward and beyond, falling off the edge of the earth.

  Heart thundering in her ears, she clung to him as the aftershocks buffeted her. He held on, letting her slide back, giving her time. At last, her breathing slowed and she opened her eyes to find him watching her, a smile of satisfaction on his face. She’d been on the receiving end, yet he looked enormously pleased.

  As she found her footing and eased back from him, thankful that her legs would hold her again, she realized that the water had cooled considerably. Or was it just that her skin was so overheated from his loving attention?

  Reaching behind her, Slade turned off the water. He didn’t have to ask if she’d enjoyed that. Her lovely face had registered every emotion from stunned surprise to sensual satisfaction. He shoved open the door, stepped out, and grabbed towels for both of them.

  But he didn’t waste precious time on drying off completely, painfully aware of his erection demanding attention. Quickly, he wrapped his towel around his waist, then reached for another to help dry Brie’s hair. She was moving slowly, still in a haze, and he was growing impatient.

  Bending, he picked her up, towels and all, and walked toward the big four-poster bed. While she’d started her shower, he’d lighted a chunky candle on the nightstand and shoved back the spread. Pale blue sheets invited them.

  “I’m not dry yet,” Brie protested. “I’ll get the bed wet.”

  “Sheets dry.” He placed her on the bed, then followed her down.

  She sat up, rubbing the smaller towel over her hair. “At least I won’t soak your pillow.”

  “Your pillow,” he answered. “The one next to it is mine.” To sleep with her, to sleep holding her. His heart lurched in anticipation.

  He took the towel from her. “Here, let me.” With strong fingers, he began massaging her scalp, rubbing the soft terrycloth over her head. “I love your hair. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “No, I probably would have remembered.” Actually, he’d never said much about her looks, but his eyes had spoken volumes. His hands were on her neck now, then on her bare shoulders, his touch light, caressing. She felt a shiver skitter along her spine.

  “Are you cold?”

  She turned, met his eyes. “With you touching me? I don’t think that’s possible.”

  The look held, warmed. “You flatter me.”

  “I don’t need to flatter you.” On second thought, perhaps she did, Brie decided. He, too, had to be a little nervous. Perhaps he needed just a touch of reassurance. She would give it to him, gladly, honestly. Removing the towel from her head, she tossed it aside and sank back onto the pillow. “From the first time you touched me, I haven’t been able to deny this overwhelming response to you. That sort of thing never happened to me before, not with anyone.”

  “It’s not usual for me, either.” How beautiful she looked with her blond cloud of hair fanned out on the blue pillowcase. Leaning down to her, he braced himself on one elbow. “You’ve been playing hell with my concentration since day one. At first, I wanted to throttle you. Then, even knee deep in paint fumes, all I wanted to do was throw you down on the grass and jump your bones.”

  Her smile was very female. “Honestly?”

  “You don’t believe me?” He reached for her hand and placed it on a section of the towel that was still loosely wrapped around his waist, the section that was straining for action.

  Her eyes went wide but her fingers tightened on him. “That’s only because you’ve got a naked woman in your shower, in your bed. Most men would…”

  “I’m not most men and you’re not just any naked woman.” Ever more impatient, he parted the towel that covered her, revealing breasts so very beautiful and yearning toward his touch. He decided to accommodate them.

  Not to be outdone, feeling bolder by the minute, Brie slipped her own hand beneath his towel and went exploring. She heard him groan out loud.

  “Listen, I’m having a little trouble here,” he confessed, angling back from her, not wanting things to be over way too soon. “I wanted to take this slowly, but…”

  “Don’t go slowly,” she told him, arching into his touch. They’d had weeks to built up to this. “I want you too much for slowly.”

  It was all the encouragement he needed. Yanking aside both towels, he looked down into her eyes. He saw just the smallest hint of uncertainty and a desperate attempt to hang on to her control. He wanted to shatter that control, to bring her to her knees as she’d done to him.

  His mouth took hers in a fierce kiss as he gathered her close, her breasts grazing his chest enticingly. Her mouth softened, opened, invited. Her tongue danced with his in remembrance of other kisses they’d shared, in celebration, in surrender. Flesh to flesh with her at last, Slade knew he’d met his match with this fiery woman.

  His body was taut and straining, still he held off, raining kisses on her satin shoulders, her throat, and in her ear, feeling her shudder a response. But needs too long held in check pounded at him and he knew he hadn’t much time left. Slipping a hand between their bodies, he touched her deeply. He felt her respond with a jolt she couldn’t suppress.

  But it wasn’t his fingers Brie wanted, not this time. Shifting, she reached down and guided him inside her.

  Slade swallowed her soft sigh of pleasure as he joined more deeply with her, then began to move, knowing the climb would be short this first time. He’d waited so long, wanted so badly, but he’d make it good for her or die trying.

  Brie let the power of his kiss fire her, let the rhythm of their movements take her. This is what she’d been needing, wanting, this mindless giving and taking. Her hands on his back still damp from their shower alternately gripped and caressed. She was peripherally aware of the rain pelting the windows, of the scent of the candle on the bedside table mingling with the aroma of soap and shampoo.

  But mostly she was aware only of Slade. Slade on her and in her and with her, taking her higher and higher still. When at last she hit the summit and felt the waves of sweet pleasure ripple through her, she knew he’d been with her all the way.

  Chapter Twelve

  Briana came awake slowly, very slowly. First, she became aware she was snuggled down under a wonderful old patchwork quilt with her head nestled in a goosedown pillow. She was warm and cozy, her limbs feeling languid, her body still humming. From outside, she heard rain whipping against the windows and pelting the roof, not gently but steadily beating down. Nasty weather just begs a body to sleep late.

  Squirming about, she became aware of her physical self more slowly. She wasn’t wearing a gown, a surprise, since sleeping in the nude was something she rarely did. With that piece of knowledge came curiosity so she opened one eye. A strange room, semidark, white slatted wooden blinds on the windows, blue carpeting, a heavy dresser against the far wall, the scent of vanilla lingering in the air. A half-burnt candle in a brass holder next to the telephone on the nightstand. Nothing familiar.

  The master bedroom in Slade’s house, of course. Memories rushed back as heat moved into her face.

  Shifting, she opened the other ey
e at the same time as she inched her right hand toward the other side of the bed. Nothing. No one. She sat up.

  Empty, the indentation of his head still on his pillow. The sheets were still warm, so perhaps he hadn’t been up long. She glanced toward the bathroom door and saw it was ajar. He wasn’t there. She inhaled deeply, but couldn’t pick up the scent of coffee. She knew how much Slade loved that first cup of morning coffee. Apparently, though, he wasn’t down in the kitchen brewing a pot.

  Flopping back, Briana struggled with a sense of loss. Stupid to feel that way, she supposed. One night, great as it was, was hardly a commitment or even a genuine love affair. It was … a one-night fling, perhaps. She shuddered at the words, the thought, the implication.

  Heaving a mighty sigh, she closed her eyes. Well, what had she expected? A morning after that included awakening to a kiss, then breakfast in bed? She’d had candlelight and been carried up the stairs a la Rhett Butler and several bouts of mind-blowing sex. If that’s all there was, she’d have to be a big girl and accept it.

  But she wouldn’t have to like it.

  So cold, so cruel, she thought, leaving her like this. A glance at the clock radio told her it was barely seven. Had he wanted to get away from her so badly he’d gone for an early morning run on the beach in a downpour? Face it, kid, she told herself. Mornings after were the pits.

  Her clothes, she imagined, were still in a damp heap in the corner of the bath. Swell. She’d have to borrow something of his to go home in. And since he’d said he never used this bedroom, that meant his clothes were probably down the hall. Terrific.

  She’d not been one to jump into a man’s bed readily, not even in college away from home for the first time. Perhaps if she had, she’d have known what to expect. She’d been as ill prepared for this as she’d been for a man like Slade to enter her life. Which, translated, meant not at all.

  She’d grown up around men like her father, who had two college degrees, spoke several languages, and was a wine connoisseur. And like Robert and Craig, both of whom wore designer suits, bought imported shoes, and had their hair trimmed weekly at a salon. Slade, on the other hand, had graduated from the school of hard knocks, wore his hair a shade too long, probably didn’t own a tie, didn’t know chablis from champagne, and made beer his beverage of choice.