by Nan Ryan
She stood there, bathed in the firelight, allowing the seated man to take a long, leisurely look at her many charms. The gown hiked high, Doña Hope shook her long platinum mane about her face, moved her feet apart, and posed provocatively. Aware that the firelight playing on her near-naked body enhanced her pale blond beauty, she again pirouetted slowly, allowing him the pleasure of languidly admiring her.
She knew him so well. West was a man who could become highly aroused by the sight of a beautiful naked woman. She wanted her lover to be highly aroused on this May evening. She wanted him hot and hard and insatiable. She wanted him so aroused he was scary. She wanted to spend the long warm night on the edge, engaging in scary sex with this scary man. She wanted her lover to become so blood-poundingly excited it would take an entire night of uninhibited lovemaking to satisfy him.
She was just the woman who could do both! Arouse him so thoroughly he would lustily, savagely take her again and again. And then, satisfy him so completely he wouldn’t want another woman for weeks!
Not even a blue-eyed, flame-haired, apricot-skinned, gentle-spoken beauty who didn’t fool her for a second! The very married Mrs. Dane Curtin was helplessly attracted to the handsome West Quarternight. And West was dangerously attracted to the regal redhead, whether he realized it or not.
So if a tiny spark existed between West and Elizabeth Curtin, it was strictly up to her, Doña Hope, to extinguish it before it had a chance to burst into flame. She would fight fire with fire. She would make her handsome lover burn for her. Then she would envelop him in a blaze of love so hot and consuming, there would be nothing left for any other woman.
Confident, Doña Hope came to West.
She cupped his brown jaws in her small white hands and tipped his face up. She leaned down to him and inhaled deeply, offering him a tempting view of her full, ivory breasts pressing against the thin satin, her nipples already tightened in arousal.
“I’m going to kiss you all over your hard, brown body,” she promised tantalizingly, lowering her wet red lips to his and kissing his mouth.
West’s left hand covered a breast, his right slid around her waist and, with open palm against the curve of her back, pulled her down to him. When the long kiss ended, the doña was draped atop his bent knee, leaning back in his arms.
Breathless, she murmured, “My darling, I’m going to give you exquisite pleasure tonight. All night long.”
His trousered leg still hooked over the chair’s arm, West squeezed her narrow waist, settled her so that her hip and thigh were pressed against his groin, and said, “You never fail to give me exquisite pleasure, Doña.” His fingertips traced a jutting nipple through the clinging white satin.
Sliding her thigh provocatively back and forth over his lower belly and crotch, she said, “And I’ll never fail. Anything you want me to do to you, I will.” Her fingers raked through the dark hair on his naked chest. “Anything you want to do to me—anything—I’ll let you.”
“You’re a lot of woman,” West replied, knowing she meant every word she said.
“All you’ll ever need,” she assured him.
“Shall we go to bed?”
“No,” she whispered. “Let’s make love right here. In the chair before the fire.”
“Anyplace you want it,” was his agreeable reply.
“Kiss me, West. Kiss me.”
West kissed her. It was a long, hot kiss and Doña Hope, already on fire for the hard-muscled man upon whose knee she sat, ground her open mouth to his, sucked at his tongue, and allowed her erect nipples to graze his bare chest.
At last she tore her flaming mouth from his, gasped for air, and experienced a fleeting second of uneasiness. While she was already trembling and her flesh was flushed and heated, her thigh, pressed flush between his legs, told her that West was not yet ready for lovemaking.
She would make him ready.
Doña drew West’s mouth back to hers and kissed him wildly, playfully nipping and biting him, sensuously licking at his wide, smooth lips, and plunging her tongue deeply into his mouth. Over and over she kissed him and as they kissed, she changed their positions.
Snatching her gown up with one hand, she wiggled about to straddle his body. Climbing atop him, she pressed her knees tightly to his trim waist and rhythmically ground her pelvis to his. She took her lips from his mouth, pushed his dark head against the chair’s back, and set about brushing wet, open-mouthed kisses to his bare chest. She flicked the tip of her tongue over his flat brown nipples and circled them. She licked the heavy line of black hair leading down into his trousers.
Finally she lifted her head, looked into his eyes, and felt her apprehension escalate. Those beautiful, expressive eyes were not the hot molten silver she longed to see, but a calm, almost penitent gray. Heart pounding, she jerked her gown’s narrow satin straps down over her shoulders, and wiggled free of the flimsy bodice, allowing her full, throbbing breasts to spill onto his chest.
“Doña, sweetheart, I …” West began, but she wouldn’t allow him to finish.
Grabbing the thick, dark hair at the sides of his head, Doña Hope again covered his mouth with her flaming lips. Desperately she kissed him, and when she took her mouth from his, she arched toward him and brushed a hard nipple back and forth across his gleaming lips.
“Doña, listen to me, sweetheart—”
“No!” She wouldn’t allow him to say what she couldn’t bear to hear. She clutched the dark hair of his head and pressed his face to her naked breasts. “Darling, darling,” she breathed, kissing the top of his head, praying his wide, wonderful mouth would search out and warmly enclose an aching nipple.
It didn’t.
Still the doña clung to his hair, willing him to want her as much as she wanted him. Her knees hugged him tightly. Between her clasping thighs the sensitive feminine flesh was swollen with her need and a hot wetness was flowing from her. A deep, painful longing was causing her belly to contract sharply.
But Doña Hope knew her lover wasn’t experiencing the same urgency, the hot desire that seized her. She pushed West’s face away from her breasts, slid off his lap, and knelt between his spread legs. Sadly she looked at his groin and laid caressing fingers on the flaccid flesh. West’s hand immediately covered hers.
Sheepishly, he apologized, “I’m sorry, Doña. I guess I’m tired from the—”
“Tired?” she interrupted, hurt and angry. Snatching her hand away, she rose to her feet, and said, “You have come to me after seventy-two hours without sleep and grown hard with my first kiss!”
“Maybe I have”—he reached for her hand, pulled her back to him—“but sometimes—”
“Maybe? You don’t remember?” Her brown eyes flashed with pain and fury and she again pulled away from him. “You think I don’t know what’s wrong with you tonight?”
“Hell, honey, nothing’s wrong with me,” he said, shrugging. “I had too much to drink and I’m tired. I’m not an eighteen-year-old boy, for Christ sake.”
“That’s not it!” she snarled, angrier than he had ever seen her. Tears gathering in her eyes, Doña Hope pulled the lowered satin gown up over her naked breasts and said, “You’re in the wrong damned bedroom!”
West grinned, attempting to jolly her. “I thought you wanted me here.”
“Oh, I did! You know I did, but somebody else wants you in her room as well, eh, West?”
The smile left West’s dark face. “You’re talking foolishness and you know it.”
“Do I know it? Do you?” She stood holding up her gown with one hand while pointing with the other. “Maybe you ought to go right down the hall to the redhead’s room, see if she can make you get it—”
“Hush! Hush, now,” he warned, coming to his feet. He stepped up to her, clasped her bare shoulders in his hands, and said, “You know more about a man’s body than any woman I’ve ever known, so surely you understand that the only thing wrong with me is exhaustion and too much brandy.”
“Liar,�
� she accused, flinching away from him. “Liar. You want another woman. A married woman!”
“I’m going to forget you said that, Doña,” West told her in a flat, low voice. “Let’s put a stop to this nonsense and get in bed. I told you I’m tired.” He turned and started for the bed. Over his shoulder, he said, “Maybe we’ll make love in the morning.”
Doña Hope flew at him, grabbed his arm, and spun him to face her. “If you only intend to sleep in bed, then go to your guest room. I am not sleepy!”
West said placatingly, “Well, now, darlin’, I never said I wouldn’t take care of you, did I? There are all sorts of ways to—”
“Never!” She would not be appeased. “You think I’ll lie in your arms and allow you to touch me while you think of another woman?”
“Jesus, what is it with you? I haven’t said two words to Elizabeth Curtin since we’ve been here.”
Tears spilling down her flushed cheeks, Doña Hope shook her head and said, “Leave me now. Leave me. Get some sleep. Maybe you are only tired,” she said hopefully. “When you awaken, if it’s in the middle of the night or tomorrow morning, and you want me—only me—I’ll be here. Waiting.” She started pushing him toward the door. “Otherwise I’ll see you at breakfast with the others.”
They were at the door. Doña Hope opened it, West stepped out into the corridor, turned back and touched her tear-stained cheek. “’Night, sweetheart.”
The doña didn’t answer. She closed the door in his face. Sighing, West shrugged bare shoulders and walked away. Several doors down he stepped into his darkened guest room. He didn’t bother to light any lamps. Bone tired, he crossed directly to the bed and threw back the covers. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his black stockings, and hunched out of his tight black trousers.
Naked, he climbed into bed, stretched out on his back, yawned, and waited for sleep to come. An hour later, he still waited. Irritable, edgy, he got up. A black silk robe lay at the foot of the bed. West put on the robe, tied the sash loosely at his waist, and picked up a cigar and match from the night table.
He went out onto the shadowy balcony, and walked over to lean against the black wrought-iron railing. He automatically cast a glance down the long balcony toward the doña’s bedroom. No lights shone from her open double doors. Apparently, she was asleep.
West inhaled deeply, put the cigar in his mouth, and was about to light it when in the opposite direction a pair of double doors suddenly opened. Suffused light spilled out of the room onto the balcony.
Curious, his dark brows knitted together, West lowered the match without striking it, his gaze narrowed. The unlighted cigar between his lips, he stared, wondering who could still be up at this late hour.
His heart kicked against his ribs when a tall, slender woman with flaming red hair stepped out into the square of pale light. Perfectly framed, she was barefoot and wore only a nightgown. An incredibly alluring nightgown. The bodice was entirely of delicate aqua-colored lace, the skirt of pale aqua satin.
West’s sharp teeth cut into his unlighted cigar when Elizabeth moved forward, clutched the railing, and inhaled deeply. Her full, high breasts strained against the alluring aqua lace. A night wind blew from out of the south, pressing the soft aqua satin against her shapely thighs and long slender legs and tossing locks of her wild red hair about her ivory shoulders.
Afraid to move, afraid to breathe, West stood there concealed in deep shadow, an unashamed voyeur, eagerly watching the unsuspecting Elizabeth put on a sensual performance for his eyes only.
Slowly, his dark hand moved up to pluck the cigar from lips that could no longer stay closed around it. Lowering the cigar, his strong fingers reflexively crushed it as he stared unblinking at the beautiful red-haired woman.
She stood there in the night, in the wind, a fiery, near-naked temptress so alluring that the sight of her sent an involuntary shudder of pleasure through his body. He trembled. His belly tightened. Blood pounded in his temples. And in his groin.
His hot silver eyes never leaving the night vision before him, West felt the slithery black satin of his robe rising with his untimely arousal. He stood cloaked in the darkness, his powerful erection throbbing with a need more fierce than any he had ever known.
It frightened him, he wanted her so badly. Frightened him because it was her—Elizabeth—not just a beautiful woman he wanted. He wanted her. Only her, and he was terrified. And because he was terrified, he grew angry. Angry with himself for being so weak. Angry with her for making him weak.
Slowly Elizabeth turned about, threw her head back, leaned against the railing, and unwittingly showed her angry, suffering voyeur pale pink satiny nipples peeking through aqua lace and shadowy red curls outlined against clinging aqua satin.
Hot silver eyes blazed, then turned icy cold.
Under his breath West uttered the oath, “Goddamn you, Mrs. Curtin.”
32
HE COULDN’T HAVE STAYED away had the penalty of going to her been certain death. He was more than a little afraid of her. He was unreasonably angry with her. But the white-hot passion she aroused in him was far greater than fear or anger.
The beautiful red-haired siren stood there in the night wind guilelessly exhibiting her charms, and West couldn’t resist. Helpless, he started toward her, his heart beating so forcefully he could hear it drumming in his ears.
Barefooted, he moved as swiftly and quietly as a sleek panther. But he had taken only a few steps before she sensed his approach. One hand reaching out to the balcony’s solid railing, Elizabeth slowly turned.
She saw him coming. A tall, dark-robed figure moving toward her from out of the darkness, but she didn’t scream or dash inside to safety. She was afraid, yet she didn’t move. Just stood there clutching the cool railing, awaiting her inevitable fate. She knew, well before he reached the pale square of light, who was coming to her.
For her.
And she knew what was going to happen.
West stepped out of the shadow into the light and he had the look of a villain about him. His blue-black hair was disheveled and falling over his forehead, a shadow of whiskers was already beginning to darken his lower face, and his eyes were a frightening, fascinating mixture of deadly gray coldness and vibrant silver heat.
He stood there a long second, watching her carefully for some slight gesture or movement. He caught the quickening tempo of her breathing, saw the faint pulse at the base of her throat and he knew he could have her. Knew he would have her.
Elizabeth couldn’t slow the quickening of her pulse. She couldn’t back away from this tall, dark man who loomed dangerously close before her, emanating a fierce animal strength. He was, she breathlessly realized, already erect in anticipation, the hard male flesh rising and surging beneath the black silk of his robe.
Neither spoke a word.
They were totally silent. The silence between them grew heavier and was charged with a taut electric excitement that each felt and knew—had always known—was shared by the other.
West moved closer. Trembling, Elizabeth released her hold on the balcony’s railing and stepped forward to meet him. His body already hardened with desire, West’s hungry gaze swiftly skimmed over her. His molten silver eyes touched the pale pink satin nipples pressing aqua lace, swept over the flat belly and the tiny indentation of her naval, and settled with rising excitement on the shadowy triangle between her legs.
Elizabeth anxiously lifted her hands and placed them on his chest. West drew her to him. Their gazes locked. Elizabeth’s heart pumped wildly in her throat. West’s pounded painfully against his ribs. His dark face lowered. Her fair face tipped up. Mouths, tongues, met in a blazing kiss of surrendering consent.
After that, it was like a wild fire spreading unchecked over parched dry land. With one swift kiss they both burst into devastating flame. There was no turning back, no having second thoughts. It was too late. The fire, once ignited, was so hot, so destructive, it could only be extinguished by raging complet
ely out of control and then quickly burning itself out.
That’s exactly what happened.
Roughly, West clasped Elizabeth’s fragile wrist, propelled her back inside her bedroom, lifted the globe from the single burning lamp atop a drum table. He extinguished the tiny flame with thumb and forefinger and the large beige room was at once cast into shadowy moonlight.
West made no move to shut the open balcony doors. He made no move to carry Elizabeth to the silk-sheeted bed. There was no time for that. He was so hot. He was covered with a sheen of perspiration and every nerve and muscle in his body was tense.
Elizabeth was just as excited, just as eager. Her face was flushed, there was gooseflesh on her arms and beads of moisture between her breasts.
West’s hands clasped her shoulders, his passion-hardened mouth came back to hers. He kissed her as his tanned fingers deftly swept the aqua lace bodice away from her aching breasts. He pushed the wispy gown down past her waist where it snagged on her rounded hips.
Unwilling to break the kiss, the electrified pair began shedding their unwanted garments. West’s hands spanned her delicate ribcage and he pressed her body close. Her pebble-hard nipples were buried in the crisp hair of his chest. His thrusting erection pulsed against her belly.
While West eagerly urged the slippery satin gown down over Elizabeth’s hips, she found his robe’s tied sash, yanked on it, and began frantically pushing the black silk robe apart.
In their urgency, they became like animals. Between quick, hot kisses they madly struggled to strip each other naked. Patience and good manners were totally abandoned as they went at one another, each fighting to bare the other’s flesh first. Wanting her so badly he was physically hurting, a savagely determined West pulled on, shoved down, and yanked at the aqua satin gown keeping Elizabeth’s bare, pale loveliness from him. At the same time a rash, willful Elizabeth clawed at, jerked on, and peeled away the black satin robe concealing West’s magnificent bare brown body from her.
In seconds his black robe and her aqua gown lay discarded on the carpeted floor and they were naked together. Still they made no move toward the waiting bed. They stayed where they were, in front of the open balcony doors, kissing aggressively, as if they would devour each other, their bare sensitive bodies pressed hotly together. Finally, West tore his flaming mouth from hers. He pushed her tousled red hair back, leaned down, and buried his lips in the curve of her neck and shoulder.