A Woman To Blame

by Susan Connell

  Holding a corner of the sheet between her legs, Bryn was kneeling naked in the center of his bed, looking straight at him when he walked back through the door. Words caught in his throat, words he soon forgot. All he could think about were the mixed messages he was receiving. Even though she'd just stripped off her clothes in record time, she was covering herself with that white sheet like a timid virgin on her wedding night.

  Dragging the sheet to her breastbone, she clutched both handfuls to her body. One tightened nipple peeked from behind rumpled white cloth. "Say something, or I'll die of embarrassment."

  "Okay," he said, tossing the condoms on his nightstand. Propping his hands on his hips, he smiled. "Drop the sheet."

  She blinked those thick lashes at him, then opened her eyes as wide as possible. "Now? Just like that?"

  "We don't want rose petals and raindrops," he said, shaking his head. Walking closer to the bed, he continued talking softly. "Not tonight, Bryn. Tonight we want thunder and lightning. Am I right?"

  Bryn licked at her lips, striving to understand this new excitement racing through her. He gave her a long, hot look that scorched her with its blazing honesty. "Rick, I've tried," she said, her voice earnest with desperation and apology. "But I've never had the thunder and lightning, and..."

  "Go on."

  "I want it, Rick. So badly... I want it with you," she said, watching him remove his shirt and toss it over his shoulder.

  "Bryn, drop the sheet," he said, sitting down on the edge of the wide bed.

  Her grasp continued tightening on the sheet until he started that daring smile. Tanned skin crinkled at the corners of his eyes, drawing attention to the wicked yet humorous light there. Delicious promises radiated from every pore of his magnificent body. The moment suddenly hummed with rightness.

  She didn't drop the sheet. She lowered it slowly, her confidence building with each revealed inch. By the time she bunched it over the apex of her thighs, she'd accepted his challenge without understanding the full measure of it.

  "What else do you want?" he asked, reaching for her beaded nipple, but drawing his fingers down between her breasts instead.

  "I want the rose petals and raindrops too."

  When she began trailing her fingers after his, he swallowed hard. "Do it again," he whispered.

  "Like this?" she asked, skimming a thumb over her nipple before repeating the stroke along her body.

  By following his lead, she'd discovered the way to tap into his passion. Soon he wouldn't be able to hold back what he'd so carefully guarded. The knowledge excited her, making her want to please him in ways she'd only imagined. Pushing the sheet away, she leaned back on a bank of pillows. "This too?" she asked, touching her thighs this time.

  He swore under his breath, threatening the heavens if she didn't stop it, then threatening the heavens if she did. She didn't stop. She kept on stroking, taking her cues from his darkening eyes and his deepening breaths. When he stood and removed the rest of his clothing, she invited him closer with the whisper of his name.

  "Rick... I want it all."

  It was as if she'd understood every desire, every fantasy he'd had about her. Even the ones that frightened him, those sweet romantic images undeniably more precious now that they were within his reach. With one sweep of her eyes she moved him, bringing life to that emotional void where he'd been numb so long.

  "So do I."

  Leaning back on her elbows, she dropped her head back in an eloquent act of consent. Moving over her, he touched her as lightly as falling petals from a swollen rose. He ran his fingers down her throat to the delicate hollow, following them with a skimming trail of kisses. Wet and warm, they touched her like raindrops before a summer storm. Giving the same exquisite attention to the rest of her, he steeled himself against the pounding need in his loins. When she began weaving her hips, he moved lower, moistening his lips in her sweet healing wetness. Her breath caught in a ragged gasp, and with one whispery moan she tumbled another one of his walls.

  He reached for protection, and together they rolled it on. Striving for one last semblance of control, he managed a breathless smile. "Thunder and lightning?"

  Leaning back on the pillows again, she opened her secrets to him like his trusting lover. "Thunder and lightning," she repeated, stroking herself from the valley between her breasts to the nest of auburn curls near the glistening place between her thighs.

  He was past words now, intent on following her lead. With a pleasurable shudder, he let her guide him inside her narrow entrance. She contracted around him instantly, urging him deeper into her silken embrace with a tug of his hips and a sizzling sigh. Easing himself halfway to her center, he watched her eyes as the first wave of undiluted pleasure struck her. He'd never held a shooting star, but now he knew what one felt like as her sensuous moves flared to a burning climax around him. Before he could stop it, his guarded well of passion surged forward in a series of hot, hard strokes. Crying her name, he let his last wall tumble as he sank himself into the deepest part of her. She came with him in one stunning explosion of pleasure. The incredible feeling of oneness lingered long after his thundering heartbeat stopped echoing through her body. She lay quietly within his embrace, brushing an occasional kiss to his chest and leaving him to wonder at the miracle of it all.

  * * *

  Later Bryn felt him moving her onto the pillows and covering her with the sheet. Holding her face between his palms, he kissed her several times, each time softer than the last. Lulled by his gentle touch, she couldn't think about anything except their total intimacy and that she wanted it to go on forever.

  "Sleep," he whispered, before moving off the bed and heading toward the bathroom.

  Drifting in and out of her drowsy state, it took her a moment to realize he'd finished in the bathroom and was out on the deck, securing the doors. She moved around the empty bed trying to find a more comfortable spot. She ended up rolling into the space he'd left. Already cool to the touch, she began nuzzling the sheet, inhaling the scent of their lovemaking in an effort to recreate his presence. Half aroused with wanting him again, she indulged in another new experience, wrapping herself in her lover's scent. Reveling in the hedonistic act, she tugged the material around her and drew the vital fragrance into her body. Nothing, she thought, would ever break the spell of this night.

  Rick watched her from the door, enjoying her voluptuous moves as if she'd orchestrated them specifically for him. Moonlight played on the satin curves of her body, tantalizing him with what he saw and what he didn't. The more she nudged herself against the twisted sheet, the more aroused he became. "If I come back to bed, will you wrap your knees around me like that?" he asked.

  Tensing at the sound of his voice, she stopped moving on the sheet. Pushing up, she lowered her buttocks to her heels, then looked over her shoulder at him. Don't stop, he wanted to tell her, but he knew her private moment had passed and a shared one was about to begin.

  "Will you make those sounds for me?" he asked, walking into the room and next to the bed. Bracing his hands on the bed, he leaned in to kiss her hip. "Will you move like that for me?"

  When she didn't answer him, he sensed her silence came not from her embarrassment but from her disoriented state. She stared blankly at the dry-cleaning bag he'd taken inside before, and he began to wonder if she'd been aware of what she'd just been doing. Kneeling beside the bed, he began stroking the indentation of her spine.

  "Are you really awake?" he asked softly.

  "Yes."

  "Are you okay?"

  "Yes."

  "No, you're not," he said, standing quickly to sit beside her. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you before?" Approaching her slowly, he lifted her chin on his fingertips. "Did I scare you? Christ, Bryn, I'm sorry. It's been a while since—"

  "Has it?" she asked.

  Her question seared the air between them. In the light of a full moon, he could see her eyes narrowing with concern before she lowered her head. "Where did that come fr
om? No, don't turn away," he said, reaching for her shoulder. Relieved that she didn't flinch from his touch, he kissed the warm skin next to his hand. "Not after what we've just been through," he added gently. "Tell me what's bothering you and I'll try to help."

  "The other night, after I smeared that pie on your sleeve, I decided I should be the one to take it to the dry cleaner's." She looked away again. "When I was carrying the jacket to the car, I guess I held it close to my face. I smelled perfume on the lapel. Shalimar. I don't wear Shalimar." She plucked at the sheet covering her knee. "Rick, if there's someone else in your life, I have to know, because I can't be with you. I'm not like that and—"

  "There's no one else."

  "But the perfume—"

  "There's no one now. It was over months ago." Shaking his head, he stood up again, suddenly restless. "Do you want to hear this?"

  Her palms lay open on her thighs in a gesture of surrender. "I have to hear this."

  "Her name is Sharon Burke and she lives on one of the Lower Keys. What we had was a simple, physical relationship."

  "Is she a prostitute?"

  "No. She'd lost her husband in a boating accident about eight months before we got together. And I was alone too. Bryn, we weren't looking to complicate our lives, but we both had needs, and at the time the idea of an arrangement appeared workable. I suppose the whole affair sounds calculated, and to be honest, it was."

  "Did you care for her?"

  He hesitated before he began to speak. "I know what you're asking, and all I can say is, I wasn't looking for anything more than what she had to offer. And she's a good person, Bryn." He shrugged at his loss for words. "But situations change. I hadn't called her in several months, and when I finally saw her the other night, she was as ready to call it quits as I was."

  "Why?" Bryn asked, twisting around to face him. He came back to the bed. "What happened?"

  "You happened," he said, pulling her up on her knees and against him. "And you keep happening. Every time I see you, or touch you or even think about you, I want you."

  The power and passion in his voice pushed back other questions she wanted to ask him. Everything about him said his affair was over, and that he wanted her now. Responding to his stirring passion, she accepted his blunt explanation with a hot kiss that brought them both down on the bed. After a valiant struggle to prolong their foreplay, they both scrambled for another packet on the nightstand. When he reached between her thighs and began lifting himself over her, she pushed him back and took the place on top. "Not this time. This time, I want to wrap my knees around you," she whispered, guiding him inside her moist heat. He was hers now, and if she had any lingering doubts, they disappeared in the riveting attention his eyes were paying her. "I want to make those sounds for you when I move on you... like this."

  Her name formed on his lips, but he was too steeped in pleasure to speak. Sweet torment distorted his mouth until she covered it with a kiss. That she had taken him to his limit so quickly, filled her with a new feminine power and the impulse to use it. Tightening around him, she leaned forward and whispered, "Just like this, Rick." When she heard him gasp, she sank down on him, surrendering them both to a soul-shaking union.

  Chapter 7

  Bryn meant to leave early the next morning but one good-morning kiss led to another, and six A.M. became seven A.M. And then eight A.M. They finally both agreed after a lusty, breathless coupling on his kitchen floor that they had places to go, work that wouldn't wait and problems to solve. But tonight they were definitely reserving for themselves. Yes, tonight made sense, they mumbled through a few more kisses.

  Tonight, Bryn silently reminded herself, she was going to ask Rick about things that her grandfather and Liza had attempted to tell her. What did she know about Rick? He was a man of the moment who knew how to push her buttons, and made her take stock of her personal life, especially what she lacked in the man/woman area. Rick Parrish was more than a sexual technician who could bring her to mind-boggling orgasm. His tenderness for her tugged at her heart even now.

  Rick kissed her all the way to her car, then pulled her out of it and kicked the door shut to share one last embrace. When he eventually backed away from her, hands in the air, she was still tingling from his touch.

  "I have to cancel a reserved charter," he said as much to himself as to her. "I've got paperwork. And there's an engine needing an overhaul." As he started off she didn't bother hiding her frustrated sigh.

  "Aw, the hell with it," he said, doing an about-face to close the gap between them. "Tonight's too far away. Meet me at the marina at ten and we'll head down to Key West for the day."

  Still heady with their new intimacy, she infused her question with a teasing, breathy innocence. "Is that an order, Captain Parrish?"

  She watched him sizing her up with playful exaggeration. He'd never been more relaxed with her. After thoughtfully rubbing his shirtless chest, he rested both hands on his hips. "It is. Are you questioning my authority?"

  "Depends on what the punishment is," she said, before biting back a laughter-filled smile. When he made the move to capture her, she blocked him by opening her door and getting in. "I take it back. And besides, I have business in Key West this week and I can probably get it done today," she said, starting her car.

  "If I let you out of my sight long enough," he said with mock gruffness.

  "Don't make threats unless you're willing to follow through on them, Captain." Sticking out a lazy tongue, she pulled slowly out of his driveway. "Ten o'clock at the marina."

  "I'll be waiting for you."

  * * *

  At five minutes to ten she parked her car at Parrish's Marina. Her heart was racing by the time she got to the roped walkway leading to the docks. When she reached for the thick rope that served as a railing, she hesitated, then brought her hands halfway to her face instead. They were shaking, and she asked herself why the idea of spending the day with him would cause this reaction. But she was kidding herself, because she already knew the real question causing the trembling in her hands and the thumping in her chest. What was she going to find out about him and his life before she'd met him?

  With a huffy sigh over her fears, she stepped up onto the dock. Rick had already proved himself to be a thoughtful, caring man. And she certainly had no complaints about his powerful sexuality and his ability to reach hers. What kept niggling at her was the rest of him. Sure, he came with character references from virtually everyone on Malabar Key, but his past was a blank. When she felt that sinking sensation in her chest, she squeezed hard on the rope railing. Key West and all its charms were waiting. More important, so was Rick Parrish.

  But Rick wasn't waiting alone.

  Rick's voice was coming from the other side of the bait shack. "I can't allow her on the boat. Sorry to have to change your plans, but that's always been my policy in this situation."

  "Well, no one told us about this policy when we made the reservation two months ago, Captain Parrish. And besides, we asked for Charlie and his boat."

  "Charlie works by this marina's rules. If you'll step into the office, we'll credit your charge card in full."

  "But I'm barely four months along, and I feel great. If I hadn't mentioned it, you wouldn't have known I'm pregnant. Hey, if I promise not to have the baby until we get back, would you make an—"

  Rick cut the woman off before she could end her lighthearted attempt to change his mind. "No exceptions."

  As a screaming gull punctuated the tense silence, Bryn found herself pulling for the mother-to-be.

  "Come on, honey," her husband said, rattling their fishing poles as he gathered them up with the rest of their gear. "We'll go on to Islamorada."

  Grumbling about the "absurd rule," the couple passed Bryn on their way to the office.

  "That guy got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Better watch yourself with him," the attentive father-to-be said before maneuvering around Bryn, his wife in tow.

  By the time the
man had finished his warning, Bryn had glued her gaze to Rick. He was standing, hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts, directing his attention away from the couple until he heard the door of the L-shaped building close behind them. Bryn watched him step back as two of his workers passed him on the way to another boat. Their good-natured laughter appeared to rouse him from sobering thoughts, and only then did he notice Bryn. Groping for his sunglasses, which were hanging on a cord around his neck, he shoved them on.

  "Been waiting long?"

  "Long enough," she answered, feeling the tension pull at her smile. "Practicing safe staring again?" she asked, pointing to his sunglasses. When the question didn't produce a smile, she moved a few steps closer. "Rick, that woman hardly looked pregnant. Is there a Coast Guard regulation or, I don't know, a superstition against pregnant women on boats?"

  "No, it's my policy."

  "But, I don't—"

  "Things are easier this way."

  "There was barely a baby bump. I still don't—"

  "Marina policy," he said, draping his arm over her shoulders as he waved off the uncomfortable situation. "So, what have you been doing with yourself for the last couple of hours?"

  There was no doubt in her mind that he didn't want to talk about the uncomfortable situation that had occurred minutes earlier. By rights she had to let it go, too, even if there was more to the story. Marina policy was in Rick's domain and none of her business. "What have I been doing with myself? Making phone calls. You know, it still amazes me how much work I can do from this little island with a Smart phone, my laptop and the internet.

  Rick guided her toward his Jeep. "Tell me about it," he said, as he dropped a kiss to her cheek.

  "The price list for Italian milk-glass light fixtures? The long-awaited decision on the drapery pattern about to be hung in all the Smithdale Inns nationwide?" she asked, ruffling the caramel-colored hair on his arm. "Oh, no. We have much more interesting subjects to talk about."