Loving Lizbeth

by Ruth Langan

  She’d never had a man say such things to her. They aroused even while they soothed. “What am I feeling right now?”

  “You’re afraid.” He stared deeply and realized with a jolt that it was more than fear. “But not for yourself. You’re afraid for me. Why, Lizbeth?”

  “I’m afraid…you’ll be disappointed when…” She swallowed. “I’m not very good at this.”

  His heart nearly broke for her. But he kept his eyes steady on hers as he traced his fingers down her body and saw her eyes darken again. “I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

  He whispered soft, moist kisses over her face, her throat, then lower to her breast, laving with his tongue until her hands fisted in the bed linens. Then he moved to the other breast, nibbling, suckling until she moaned and arched toward him. But still he held back, pleasuring them both as he took her closer and closer to the edge of madness.

  She fought against it. Afraid of this pleasure, so close to pain. Afraid of this great terrible need that was building inside her. A need that had her trembling, then climbing, her body arching, then tensing.

  He found her, hot and wet, and took her on a fast, dizzying ride that left her no time to think, to prepare, as he took her up, then over.

  She felt her entire body tightening, shimmering, then exploding. She gave a whimper as she poured herself out, then fell limply back, stunned by the feelings still humming through her.

  But he wasn’t through with her. Greedy now to give her more, to give her everything, he took her on another roller-coaster ride. With such heightened sensitivity, her body responded instantly.

  She was wonderful to watch. The way she forgot all her fears as she lost herself in the intense pleasure. The way her eyes glazed, then went almost blind with passion.

  He knew he could wait no longer. This huge need, so long denied, was like a beast struggling for release. He’d kept it chained too long.

  As he entered her he saw her eyes snap open and focus on him. He struggled to keep his movements slow, his thrusts deliberate, drawing out the pleasure until it was almost unbearable for both of them.

  This new, more acute arousal caught Lizbeth by surprise. She rose up, wrapping herself around him, drawing him even deeper. She stared into those incredible blue eyes and for the first time, wasn’t afraid of what he’d see in hers.

  “Colin.” She heard a voice, low, throaty, incredibly sexy, and wondered if it could possibly be her own.

  Then she was moving with him, climbing with him. There was so much strength in her. Strength enough to match his. And energy, pushing, driving, propelling her higher, faster. She felt the shudders that rocked him in the same instant that she felt herself shattering. Together they stepped off the very pinnacle of a high mountain peak. And flew.

  Chapter 10

  They lay, still joined, their breathing ragged, their heartbeats racing. The weight of him was pressing Lizbeth to the mattress. She didn’t mind. In fact, it felt wonderfully possessive to feel that hot, slick body imprinting itself on hers. He had his face buried in the hollow of her throat, causing a tingly feeling up and down her spine, especially when he spoke. His voice seemed to vibrate through her.

  “You okay?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She found it impossible to say more. There was a lump in her throat threatening to choke her. And she was horribly afraid she might embarrass herself by crying.

  “I didn’t hurt you?”

  She shook her head from side to side, causing him to prop himself up on his elbows in order to see her face.

  “Are those tears, Lizbeth?”

  “No.” She blinked furiously and was mortified when a single tear coursed down her cheek.

  He pressed his lips to the spot. “It’s wet. And it tastes salty. You’re sure this isn’t a tear?”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “All right. Maybe it is. But I don’t know why I should be crying. I felt like I was flying. It was…amazing.”

  “So were you.” He nuzzled her cheek, her jaw, her throat. “I thought you said you weren’t very good at this.”

  “I’ve never been before.”

  That had him chuckling. “I think I should be glad.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “I didn’t mean… It’s just that…I gave up trying. It’s been years…” Completely flustered, her words trailed off. But a moment later she ran a tentative fingertip across his shoulder. “Colin?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Was I? Good, I mean.”

  Laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “Are you fishing for compliments, Ms. Sullivan?”

  “Of course not. But I need to know. Was I good? Or was I just…?”

  “You were incredible.”

  “You’re not just saying that?” Nerves had her running her index finger around and around the crisp dark hair that curled on his chest. She wasn’t even aware of what she was doing.

  But Colin was. “I’m not just saying it to hear myself talk. I mean it. But I think you’d better be warned. If you don’t stop doing what you’re doing, you may have the chance to find out for yourself very soon. You’re getting me in the mood for an instant replay.”

  “But we just…” She saw the way his eyes darkened at her touch. “Could you…? Could we?”

  “Want to find out?” He gave her a smile that had her heart doing somersaults. “Just keep that up, lady.”

  She couldn’t seem to stop herself. She lifted both hands to his shoulders, marveling at their width. For so long she’d wanted to touch him like this. And now it was the most wonderful feeling to know that she was free to do whatever she pleased. She began tracing the muscles of his arms, trailing a fingertip along the fine dark hair that grew there.

  She could feel him growing hard inside her. Her eyes widened with the knowledge that it was her touch that was arousing him. Hers. Her body that he craved.

  Drunk with her newly-discovered power, she sighed and brushed her lips over his chest and thrilled to his moan of pleasure.

  “I warned you, Lizbeth.” His words were a growl against her ear, sending shivers of delight along her spine. “I’ve wanted you for so long, I’m like a starving man at a banquet. Now there’s no stopping me.”

  “Oh, Colin.” She fisted her hands in his hair and arched up to meet him. “I’m so glad. Take me again. Right now. I want to fly.”

  “We should try to sleep.” Colin lay with one arm under his head, the other cradling Lizbeth against him. They were both pleasantly sated. “It’s been hours.”

  “I know.” She pressed a kiss to his throat. “But I’m afraid to close my eyes. Afraid I’ll wake up and find this was all a dream.”

  “If it was, we dreamed it together.” He bent his face to her hair and breathed her in. There was such sweetness here. And so much innocence. And something else. A hint of long-buried pain. Even now, after hours of loving and laughing and sighing together, she was such a mystery to him. He wanted to know her. The child she’d been. The people who had helped shape the woman she’d become. “Tell me about your childhood.”

  “Why?” She looked up at him, all big eyes and wide smile.

  “Because I want to know everything about you. What games you played. What foods you liked. What dreams you had for the future.”

  “My favorite food was a chocolate soufflé that our chef used to make in our Paris hotel whenever I’d come home from boarding school. It was a special treat he made just for me.” She flushed. “That’s why, in photos of me with my sisters, you’ll recognize me as the plump one.”

  “Then it must be true what they say about beauty.” He gave her an admiring glance. “In the eye of this beholder, I’d call you as close to perfection as a woman can get.”

  She felt herself glow under the warmth of his praise. “I have to say that I was relieved when some of my baby fat disappeared, and a few womanly curves appeared.”

  “I’ve had many an occasion to admire those womanly curves.” He grinned. “What was your favorite toy?”

 
“An elaborate playhouse my Grandpa Sully had made for my sisters and me the year we lived in Switzerland.” She laughed, remembering. “My older sister, Alex, hated it. She was always more interested in skating, or skiing, or climbing mountains with the Van Dorn brothers. And my younger sister, Celeste, never went near it, either. She preferred reading a book, or going to the museum with our mother, who was obsessed with art.” She sat up, suddenly animated. “So I had the playhouse to myself. And because we were always living in hotels, that fantasy home became my real home.”

  “Did you ever live in a real house?”

  She shook her head. “We’ve lived in castles, inns, villas. And dozens of hotels. But until Stafford Cottage, I’d never had a real home.”

  “Now you have your very own grown-up playhouse.” That explained so much. The love she lavished on each little thing. The paint and wallpaper. The furnishings. The yard. The gardens.

  Lizbeth nodded. “Grandpa Sully offered to buy it and incorporate it into our chain. That would have relieved me of the financial burden. But it would mean that it wouldn’t really be mine. It would belong to the stockholders. And if it should show a loss for too many seasons, it could be sold without my permission. Not that Grandpa Sully would ever do that. But it was a possibility. So I refused, and bought it on my own.”

  He arched a brow. She may call herself timid, but she’d taken a giant leap, without the safety of a net to catch her if she should fall. “That’s quite a risk. I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be.” She sighed. “Every day I question whether I did the right thing. I worry about paying off the mortgage. Making repairs. Replacing the ancient furnace, the plumbing.”

  “But look at you. You’re still here. And you’ve turned this into a charming, beautiful home filled with all the things you love.”

  She nodded solemnly. “I realized that the only way I was ever going to have the home of my dreams was to make it for myself.”

  Did she have any idea what she’d just revealed? There was such sadness in her eyes. Such a hungry yearning for the one thing she’d always been denied.

  He found himself wanting, more than anything in the world, to give her all the things she’d always craved. To make her feel loved and cherished and protected. But all he had to give her was himself. And so, as he brought his lips to hers, he kept his hands gentle, because that was what she most needed. He lingered over the kiss, allowing her to sink slowly, deeply, into the passion. He reveled in the taste of her, the texture. His hands moved slowly over skin as smooth as cream.

  He allowed her to set the pace. Slow. Unhurried. He took his time, combing his fingers through the golden tangles that spilled over his pillow. Brushing kisses over skin gilded by moonlight. Staring deeply into eyes that reflected the light of a thousand stars in a velvet night.

  She could feel the change in him and responded to it. This was a different sort of passion than the wild frenzy that had gripped them earlier and had driven them to a sort of madness. Now they were free to touch, to taste, to explore for as long as they wanted. To drift on a cloud of contentment, knowing they had all the time in the world.

  Held in the grip of such tenderness, her natural shyness disappeared. She was free to explore his body as he explored hers. And she did. She was able to kiss him whenever, wherever she pleased. And did. And all the while she floated in a river of such sweet delights.

  The scrape of his work-roughened hands on her flesh was heavenly. But with each touch she felt her blood heating, her bones melting. Those soft, butterfly kisses that whispered over her skin were so delightful that she felt herself sinking deeper, letting go of everything. When he tugged at her lobe, then darted his tongue inside, she felt tiny quivers inching along her spine. Each kiss was like a drug, filling her with the dark, musky taste of him.

  She could hear his breathing begin to grow shallow as he continued touching her, kissing her. Her own breathing grew more labored, and her heartbeat speeded up. The thought of where they were taking each other no longer held any fear for her. He was so tender with her. So patient. If she hadn’t loved him before, it would have been impossible to shield her heart from such gentle, loving treatment.

  It gave her such a thrill to run her hands over his body. To touch him as he was touching her. Those broad shoulders. That beautiful muscular chest. The incredible strength in those arms. She could feel the way he held himself back, allowing her to take the lead.

  When he nipped at her shoulder she laughed at the quick little thrill that shot through her. But when he lowered his mouth to her breast the laughter became a moan of pleasure.

  Emboldened, she traced her hand down his body and heard his quick gasp of surprise. She pulled her hand away as though burned.

  “No.” His mouth was at her ear, his voice rougher than she’d ever heard. “Don’t stop, Lizbeth. Touch me.”

  And she did, feeling a sense of such power when she felt him tremble. She was rewarded by a low growl of pleasure as he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her until they were both shuddering.

  He was still kissing her, soothing her, as he brought her to the first peak. But he wasn’t finished. He wanted more for her. So much more.

  She was dazed, her body humming, as he entered her and slowly filled her. He drew out each thrust, each movement, taking them to a new level of arousal.

  It was a long, slow, stunning mating that had them holding on tightly as they soared. Against her ear she heard him whisper her name. Just her name, as though it were a prayer.

  She thought it the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.

  “What’s this?” Lizbeth sat up at the clatter of dishes on the bedside table. Outside, the dawn sky was rosy with the first streaks of light.

  “Food.” Dropping his robe, Colin slipped into bed beside her, loving the way she looked, fresh from sleep, her hair tumbling around her face and shoulders in a riot of curls.

  She sat cross-legged in the bed and slipped into his shirt to cover her nakedness.

  He held out a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. “After all that exercise, we both need sustenance.”

  “Speak for yourself.” She took the fork he offered and tasted before glancing at him in surprise. “This is good.”

  “Of course it is. When a man lives alone, he’d better know how to cook for himself, or have a couple of favorite restaurants nearby.”

  “It can’t be easy to work as hard as you do all day, and then come home to cook your own meals.”

  He spread jelly on a piece of toast and broke it in half. “Maybe not easy, but necessary.” He fed her another bite before taking one himself.

  “Maybe you ought to consider hiring a cook.”

  “You interested in the job?”

  She laughed. “Only if you decide to relocate to Stafford.”

  He glanced over. “Now that I’ve seen the many pleasures this town has to offer, I’m tempted.” He offered her a cup of coffee.

  “Mmm.” She sipped. “Careful. I could get used to this.”

  “Hasn’t anyone ever made you breakfast in bed?”

  She shook her head, sending golden curls dancing.

  “Really? Then I’ll have to do this more often. Even the cook deserves a break from routine now and then.”

  Lizbeth felt such a warm glow she could hardly speak. He sounded like a man who planned to be around for a while.

  At almost the same instant she cautioned herself not to allow such a thought. All it would do was bring heartache later on. After all, sooner or later he’d leave her. Didn’t everyone? Isn’t that the way life was?

  She wouldn’t think about that right now. It would only spoil everything. She’d already made her choice. For whatever time they had together, she was going to simply enjoy herself. And let the end of this, no matter how unhappy it might be, play itself out.

  “Where did you go just now?” He reached over and tugged on a strand of her hair.

  “Sorry. Just a fleeting thought.”

/>   He was studying her carefully. “Not a particularly happy one, it seems.”

  She felt the curl of pleasure as he played with her hair. Her smile was back. “How could I be anything but happy on this fabulous morning?”

  How indeed? And yet he’d seen a flash of pain in those eyes. And found himself wondering what had caused it.

  He took the empty plate from her hands. “Had enough?”

  “That depends. Are you talking about food? Or something else?”

  Surprised at her sudden boldness he laughed and drew her close for a long, lingering kiss. “I’d better be careful. You’re getting to know me too well.”

  “I’d like to know you a lot more, Colin.”

  “Well then, why don’t we begin with this?” He slid his shirt from her shoulders before drawing her down against the pillows. Then he kissed her until she was sighing.

  Suddenly the sighs turned to gasps of pleasure as, with hands and teeth and tongue, he took her to places she’d never been.

  Chapter 11

  “I can’t believe it’s almost dinnertime.” Lizbeth was dressed in a lovely, ankle-skimming skirt of pink and mauve swirls, topped by a mauve sweater with mother-of-pearl buttons. Her hair fell soft and loose, tucked up on one side with a pearl-trimmed comb. At her throat was a strand of her grandmother’s pearls. She followed Colin down the stairs. “And we’re just getting out of the bedroom.”

  “Yeah. I’m really shocked at your behavior, Ms. Sullivan.” At the bottom of the stairs he caught her hand and linked her fingers with his. “Keeping me in bed for nearly twenty-four hours. And then forcing me to scrub your back in the shower.”