The water was just that. She peeled off her bathing suit while streams of liquid heat poured over her. She smoothed the water over her face and felt like crying. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to explain that she barely knew what she was saying to him half the time, that it was just the way the words came out, burning with the heat of the turmoil inside her.
Suddenly too hot and unable to stay in the shower another moment, she groped for the door and slid it open. Somehow, while the water continued to fall, she caught her finger, and cried out in sudden pain.
“Lucia?”
The door to the bathroom burst open, and Ryan was standing there, his eyes wide, the pulse at the base of his throat beating raggedly. He stared at her as she stood in the doorway of the shower, naked and sleek, with beads of water dripping from her.
“Lucia…” he whispered, and then he was walking toward her. She watched him come, and she couldn’t move, couldn’t say a word.
He touched her, and she cried out again at the delicious feeling of his hands on her bare flesh. She laid her palms against his chest, meaning to push him away. Instead she slid her fingers along the inside of his robe, against his bare skin and the coarse, masculine mat of tawny hair that grew there. She came to the belt and tugged on it, loosening it.
He groaned softly and pressed his lips against the wet column of her throat, then kept them there for a moment against the whirlwind beat of her pulse. He curved his hands around the fullness of her breasts and knelt slowly before her.
CHAPTER 6
“I thought you could keep your hands off me,” she whispered, smiling.
“Oh, I can. I am completely immune.”
“So am I.”
“I don’t want you at all anymore.”
“I don’t want you, either.”
“Lucia?”
“What?”
“I’m lying through my teeth.”
“Ryan?”
“What?”
“So am I.”
“Lucia?”
“What?”
“Shh…”
There had never been a time for Ryan when it hadn’t been magic to be with Lucia.
“I need you,” he murmured. “I need you tonight, so badly.”
She sighed softly and almost fell against him, but he held her, his fingers moving over the softness of her skin.
He’d known other women in his life, women he had liked, cared for, enjoyed and with whom he’d shared friendships. But he had always drawn a line at deep involvement; he had never been committed.
With Lucia, he had quickly become involved. He’d wanted a commitment; he had wanted to hold on to her forever. But he had promised no strings, which was what she’d wanted, so he’d never been able to tell her how he felt. He had tried so hard not to hold too tight…and she had run away anyway.
But the magic had stayed with him. He felt it now, touching her, feeling the soft touch of her hands on him.
She was a beautiful woman in so many ways. Now, surrounded by a fog of steam, she was utterly enchanting. She was a small woman, but surprisingly strong and lithe, compact and nearly perfect. Her skin was naturally golden, pure and sleek and as soft as silk. Her breasts were firm and full and beautifully formed. She was all lush curves and slim, exquisite angles, sensual, uniquely pure. Maybe the innocence was in her eyes, no matter how sultry their dark appeal. They were truly the mirror of her soul, large eyes, fringed with black lashes. They were fascinating pools. They made promises. They were wide and honest and compelling, and completely seductive. She was staring at him now, her lips sweetly sensual and slightly parted, but she didn’t whisper a word.
He held her hips and drew her near, pressing his mouth against the silky smoothness of her abdomen. He could hear her heartbeat, and he could feel the sweet yielding of her flesh, of her self, to him.
He laid his cheek against her, feeling the whirling madness of his own heart. He wanted her desperately. It was probably wrong. She was in his apartment, naked in his shower, only at his insistence. He shouldn’t be here. He should rise and walk away.
But he could never do so.
“Oh, Ryan…”
Her fingers fell softly on his hair, and he looked at her. Dark curls tumbled over her face and added haunting shadows to the dark mystery of her eyes. Her fingertips played softly against his skull as she stared at him gravely. And then he saw that her lips were trembling. He saw the blue vein against the long column of her throat where her pulse beat. He could not walk away from her.
“Lucia…” He wanted to say so much more, but there was absolutely nothing he could trust himself to say. He groaned softly and pressed his lips against her flesh again. He tasted that same flesh with the tip of his tongue, and he drew swirling patterns of warmth and heat, his tongue dipping into her navel. She cried out softly and fell to her knees before him. Her eyes met his, and then her mouth met his, and he brought his arms crushingly around her.
The shower beat on relentlessly, and the steam continued to rise around them, but they were both heedless of it as he drank of her, savoring her lips, her tongue, her mouth. His fingers trailed over her shoulders and along her spine to the small of her back. His hands curved over her buttocks and drew her tight against him. Tight against him…so flush that their bare flesh fused together, so that he felt every womanly nuance of her, so that she became aware of how desperately he had missed her, and how desperately he wanted her now. She slipped her hands slowly over his chest to his shoulders, shoving his robe until it fell away. She brushed her nails erotically against his neck and over his shoulder blades, then down his back to the rise of his buttocks.
He drew away from her and laid his lips against the hollow of her shoulder, then kissed her forehead, her eyelids, feeling the soft flutter of her lashes against his lips. He kissed her throat and the deep valley between her breasts, and then he kissed her lips again. A sweet simmering moved inside him. He met her eyes and felt their dark depths upon him in return. Her breathing came in sharp, shallow bursts, and her breasts rose and fell in a fascinating rhythm. He cupped them tenderly and gently, keeping his eyes upon hers all the while, feeling his own excitement skyrocket with the sensual glaze that touched the darkness of her eyes. He rubbed his thumbs slowly and deliberately over her nipples, and his hands shook as she swelled and hardened beneath his touch.
He rose, bringing her to her feet before him. She lost her balance and fell back, and he followed her into the rush of the storm, into the cascading steam of the shower stall. He pressed her against the wall and kissed her again, and the warm water fell upon them, soaking them both. He gazed down into her eyes. “We can’t stop now,” he told her softly.
“No,” she replied. They stood still for several seconds, droplets streaming over their faces. Then she gave a soft cry. Her hands wound around his neck, and she sought his lips again, eagerly, hungrily. Their mouths met and meshed and parted, again and again, and fever tore through him. He touched her cheeks, then brought his hands to her breasts again and lifted them to meet the sweet pleasure of his mouth. He ran his teeth and tongue over her honeyed flesh and the hard, darkened peaks, and then he bathed in the warmth and intimate wetness of her tongue again. With the water thundering down on his head and shoulders, he dropped to his knees again. He cupped her buttocks and brought her flush against him, then teased his fingers along the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He nipped and laved her, then ravaged her intimately with fevered tenderness. Soft gasps and incoherent sounds escaped her, and she fell down before him.
Their lips met again, and then the heat of the shower and the stars shining down on them through the skylight were simply not enough. The harsh, incoherent sound that came next was his own. He rose, lifting her into his arms, turned off the water and stepped from the stall. Water dripped from them both, but he barely noticed it. All he saw was the dark sensual beauty in her eyes, the longing and desire that matched his own. He saw the beauty of her naked flesh, and if he hadn’t been so
desperate to have her, he might have stopped just to savor and remember the sight of her in this bare and exotic state. She was so beautiful, meant for passion. Nothing was ever halfway about Lucia. She made love with all her heart and all her being, and he thought that perhaps that was what had finally won his heart, the incredible sensuality of her ability to give.
Still holding her, he fell onto his bed. Neither of them noticed that they quickly soaked the maroon comforter. Ryan moved his palm over her cheeks, ever fascinated by her eyes. Then he kissed her again, and their limbs intertwined, sleek and wet in the endless heat aroused by the friction of skin on skin. Ryan found her earlobe while her hands moved restlessly over him.
“I’ve missed you.”
“And I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed…this, too.”
She hesitated, and then her voice came, as soft as a breeze. “I’ve missed…this, too,” she echoed.
He rose above her, then whispered just above her lips that she was beautiful. He went on to tell her just what parts of her were beautiful. And she smiled beautifully, wickedly, as her fingers closed around him, and she whispered that he was beautiful, too.
He cast back his head and groaned with need and desire and triumph, and he rose high above her. Her legs, so long and supple, moved invitingly, wrapping around him. He moved his body very slowly, and very thoroughly, into hers, and he watched her eyes, as she watched his, and then the simmering within him bubbled and steamed over and he cried out again, crushing her into his arms. He no longer moved slowly, but he moved like the wind. He stroked her from within, the need in him so great that it was anguish, and the pleasure that he found within her so great that it was anguish, too. She held him with all of her, with the tenderness of her arms, with the soft tightness of her femininity.
He could not let her go. He brought her to a near frenzy, then slowed his rhythm until she moved frantically against him and he picked up the beat again. He shifted and moved within her, until at last he could hold back no longer. He cried out savagely and hoarsely, a sound that tore from the depths of him, and the essence of him filled her. And then sweet pleasure came raining down upon them as she cried out in turn. Stars seemed to burst in the velvet night and twinkle before his eyes, and then he fell down beside her, feeling her lie quiet in his arms, damp and delicious, still a part of him, for the moment, at least.
They were silent. The stars disappeared, and the night breeze slowly cooled their bodies as he drew her more closely against him.
He was probably going to have hell to pay. She had come here of her own accord, but he had been the one to suggest the shower.
He rose up on one elbow. In the light from the bathroom, he saw that she was staring at the ceiling, but he couldn’t read what she was thinking.
“Lucia…”
She pressed her fingers against his lips. “Don’t talk, Ryan. Please don’t talk. Not now.”
“Lucia, I don’t want you being mad at me for what just happened.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“Lucia…”
“I’m not mad at you, Ryan! I’m—I’m glad about what just happened. It was…I’ve missed you.” Her eyes fell briefly, then rose to his again. “It’s just so hard to be here and forget we had a past.”
“Why did you run away?” he demanded softly.
She sat up, throwing her feet over the side of the bed and turning her back to him. He reached for her arm, dragging her back. “Lucia, damn it, I wasn’t demanding anything from you.”
“Drop it, Ryan!”
“Lucia—”
“Drop it! I am not mad at you, and I—I wanted this as much as you did. Maybe more. But please, for God’s sake, don’t ruin it with a bunch of words that can’t do anything but hurt!”
He gritted his teeth. She looked at him, biting her lower lip, then rose. He jumped to his feet, cutting her off near the door of the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“To borrow your robe.”
He stared at her stubbornly. “Stay with me.”
“I can’t.”
“No words, no questions, no reproach.”
“I can’t!” she whispered, and her tone was desperate. “Ryan, my whole family is here!”
“Oh.” Frustrated, he let go of her arm. She started to move away, but he pulled her back into his arms again, hard, until their naked flesh was flush again.
He loved her this way. He loved their lovemaking, but he loved to just touch her, too. To just be together, sleeping, daydreaming, idly lying beside one another, just touching.
He smiled very slowly, seeing her flush, knowing that it might be very easy to keep her just a little while longer.
“I understand,” he said, holding her against him and feeling the fullness of her breasts against the hard muscles of his chest.
“Then—”
“Stay. Just a few minutes more. We don’t know that anyone is even back yet. They’re probably still out to dinner.”
“A lot of time has passed.”
“Then what’s just a little bit more?”
“Ryan…this isn’t right.”
“It is right, Lucia. It’s entirely right.” He bent his head and kissed her. It was a new kind of kiss. It was slow and seductive and leisurely, and it was bestowed upon her with all the mastery he had acquired in his lifetime. It was hypnotic, demonstrating leashed passion and promising the fulfillment of all desire. His lips moved and trailed across her cheek to the lobe of her ear. He caught it between his teeth. “Please…” he asked.
“Please…” she repeated almost mindlessly.
“Stay!” he pleaded.
“Stay,” she repeated. She rose on her tiptoes, her arms encircling him, her fingers playing at his nape. She pressed against him, and then she moved away just slightly, running her fingers down the length of his body, then enclosing them around him so that he shuddered. His eyes opened accusingly on her, and she smiled wickedly in return. “I can stay—just a little while longer.”
He caught her, lifting her above him, and his eyes were sharp with longing and warning. “Damn right you’re going to stay now!”
She laughed delightedly, her dark eyes ablaze, but then he touched her intimately, and her laughter died in her throat as she buried her face against him. He carried her back to the bed, and in seconds they were whispering to one another again, with their blood beating a wild, pagan rhythm, as if they were truly one.
And when it was over, they were both silent and sated.
Ryan felt as if he had died a little bit, as if all his energy had been spent in the tremendous explosion of his senses. He lay still, unable to move, her head resting on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, and she must have closed hers, too, because the two of them slept.
She woke later, and woke him. “Ryan, I told you that I had to go! It’s 4:00 a.m. now!” She bolted up while he was still trying to awaken.
“Lucia, there’s nothing to worry about—”
“Fine! Easy for you to say! You don’t have twenty-five relatives residing in the same building.”
“In the same building, Lucia, not the same room.”
“The same room. Dina! She must be worried. She must be going nuts!”
“If anyone was worried, he or she would have come here by now. You and I were the only ones left behind, remember?”
“I haven’t even got any respectable clothing. And I still don’t have a key. I can’t sneak back in quietly! Ryan,” she wailed, “you are a louse!” Her dark eyes flashed dangerously. He started to laugh at her, and she slammed her palms against his chest. “Ryan, you don’t understand!”
He captured her hands against him. “Lucia,” he said, making an effort to restrain his amusement. “I do understand, honestly. But what if nothing had happened? What if you had come in here and had a shower, and we had both sat down in the living room and dozed off? It would be exactly the same.”
She was silent, frowning suspiciously. H
e slowly, regretfully released her hands. “Grab your suit and put on my robe. I’ll get dressed and walk you down, and we’ll knock discreetly at the door. I imagine that Dina is there now, and that she isn’t worried because she never looked into your room. I’m sure she assumes that you’re in there sleeping.”
Lucia kept staring at him.
“All right?” he insisted.
“Maybe I should go down alone.”
“Lucia! At least you know me. I’m a friend of the family, or a friend of Joe’s, at least. Do you want your aunts to think you’ve been out half the night wearing practically nothing with a stranger?”
She blinked, her dark lashes fluttering over her eyes. “I’m not sure.”
“Lucia!”
“All right, all right. But hurry. It’s so late.” She turned around then and saw the disarray of her hair. “Oh! Ryan, where’s your brush?” She groaned softly. “One look at me and anyone would know exactly what I’ve been up to!” she cried in dismay.
Ryan swallowed. She was right. One look at her and he did know what she had been up to…and he wanted her to be up to it all over again. He couldn’t let her walk out of his life again. He just couldn’t.
But for the moment he needed to get her back into her own room. He knew that she loved her family dearly, and that it wasn’t fear or embarrassment that was driving her, but respect for their morals and beliefs.
He cleared his throat. “My brush is on the dresser. Just give me two minutes.”
Lucia hurried to get the brush, but Ryan couldn’t resist one last jibe. “Lucia!”
“What?”
“I love your hair like that!”
“Very funny!”
He hesitated. “I’m not being funny.”
Within minutes he was decently dressed in jeans, a polo shirt and a jacket. Lucia had donned his robe, and he took her hand while they left his apartment and rode the elevator down to the second floor.
Ryan tapped softly at Lucia’s door. There was no answer, and he arched one eyebrow, then tapped again.
“Darn Dina!” Lucia muttered, but just then the door opened and a very sleepy-looking Dina in an oversized T-shirt stood there irritably. She stared from Lucia to Ryan, trying to wake up, and then she looked at Lucia again.
Lucia in Love Page 10