It was pitch black in the room. Rosa stood still and listened to the sounds he made as he lit a lamp. The flame flared, and as Kase replaced the red glass globe, the room was bathed in a muted rose glow. Crystal teardrops hung from the globe and chimed together with a soft tinkling sound as he reached beneath them to turn the knob that raised the lamp wick.
As Rosa stood in the center of the room, still clutching his coat and the wine, Kase took off his hat and hung it on the bedpost. Unbuckling his gun belt, he slung it across the back of a chair near the door, then turned to see how Rosa fared. She was looking around in awe, her gaze taking in every facet of his room. He had always found it cheap and gaudy. Living in a whorehouse did have its drawbacks.
“Flossie decorated it,” he said in explanation.
Rosa stared around the room. It was more elaborate than any place she had ever seen. Crystal teardrops dangled from every lamp globe. A fringed paisley shawl was draped over the top of his bureau; another was swagged from the dressing screen in the corner. Thick tasseled curtains of crimson velvet hung over the windows. She did not have to look down to be aware of the equally plush carpet beneath her feet. Ornate flocked wall covering, in the same pattern that adorned the parlor downstairs, was repeated in the room.
When she finally allowed herself a glance at the tall bed near the windows, Rosa could not help but stare. It was covered with a spread of ruby satin that was trimmed with a darker burgundy lace. A dozen pillows, also swathed in satin and lace, were piled against the carved headboard.
“Listen, I know it’s pretty awful. I—We can go to your place ...”
She turned to him again. “It is beautiful.”
If her tone had not been oner of undisguised wonder, he might have laughed. Instead, he considered the room from her point of view—that of a young woman from a small village somewhere in Italy. Perhaps to her the room was beautiful. He had never thought of the place as anything but brassy and overwhelming. But tonight, with Rose standing as innocent as a Madonna in the middle of it all, the room did take on a certain luster he had never noticed before.
An awkward moment stretched between them until, driven by the lack of any better idea of where to begin, he crossed the room and took the wine from her, set it on a bedside table, and then pulled her toward him.
She continued to clutch the jacket closed. Gently he eased it from her shoulders and tossed it on the chair.
“Still cold?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I want to tell you where I’ve been, to explain ...” He felt awkward, tongue-tied in a way he had never been with a woman.
Lulled by the wine, her senses attuned to the man standing tall and proud before her, Rosa realized Kase was about to open his heart to her. Wherever he had gone, whatever he had experienced, had changed him. She could see that much in his eyes.
“Make love to me,” she said.
He wondered if she knew what she was doing to him. He clasped her to him, held her so close he thought he would the from the need that surged through him, hardening him more than he had already hardened, making him ache to take her without preamble.
“Are you sure, Rose?” He held her face between his palms and searched her eyes.
“Yes. I am sure.”
“There are things you haven’t considered. Things you still don’t know.”
“There is no need. I know my heart.”
“Rose, I want you more than you’ll ever know.”
“Show me.”
“But—”
Stubbornly she pulled away. “Then I will go.”
He knew he should let her walk away. His newfound peace of mind was all too fresh, too fragile to gamble against Rose’s trust. What if he was not able to keep his temper at bay? Besides, the fact remained that he was still a half-breed. Kase told himself that for her own good he should let her go, even if she went in anger. He held himself back and watched her cross the room, determined not to call her back. But when she paused at the door and turned to him with tears in her eyes, his heart melted and he was lost.
“Aw, Rose.” In two strides he crossed the room and swept her back into his arms.
He covered her lips with his. Unwilling to wait to invade some part of her, Kase thrust his tongue into her mouth, where it met and sparred against her own. When Rose moaned low in her throat and clung to him, he knew a feeling of release. Everything suddenly seemed right with himself and the world. For tonight, with his Rose in his arms, Kase Storm had finally found a place where he belonged.
Slowly, the kiss ended, but the maddening longing lingered. He reached up and imprisoned her face between his hands again.
“I have no flowers,” he whispered. “And I have not met your family, but if it’s what you want, I intend to make love to you, Rose Audi. And I intend to do it tonight.”
He pulled out what remained of the pins in her hair and carelessly tossed them aside, then ran his splayed fingers through the long, silken length of the rippling midnight skeins until it fell around her hips.
“I love your hair,” he whispered against her ear as he continued to gently finger-comb handfuls and watch it fall back into place.
All her notions of cutting it fled.
He reached for the top button on her jacket and she held her breath. As he worked it free, he said softly, “You do what I do.”
She reached for the button that held his shirt collar closed. When his collar was free of the shirt, she dropped it to the floor, just as he had her pins.
He unfastened the row of buttons along the bodice of her two-piece dress.
She unfastened his shirtfront.
When he drew her blouse open and began to slip it from her shoulders, she suddenly looked up, her expression one of bewilderment.
“You are not going to put out the light?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “I’m not.”
Chapter
Thirteen
“No?” Her eyes widened in astonishment.
Kase shook his head. “No,” he whispered.
Her jacket fell to the floor with a hush of sound when he slid it off her shoulders. Her skin was bathed in the luminous roseate glow, her camisole stained pink inthe pastel light.
Suddenly embarrassed, Rosa felt exposed, as indeed she was, to his raw gaze. Kase took full advantage of that exposure. She did not know how to react; Giovanni never had suggested that she undress before him. She had always changed first and then climbed into bed, well hidden from neck to ankle by one of her voluminous white nightgowns. Their lovemaking, an awkward, fumbling affair carried on beneath blankets and nightclothes, had always taken place in the dark.
Somehow she knew instinctively that tonight would be different. Still, she wished Kase would take her in his arms rather than leave her standing so vulnerably exposed. She peered up at him from beneath lowered lashes and found him smiling his tantalizing half-smile. Her embarrassment forgotten, she knew then that she would do anything he asked.
His warm breath grazed her cheek as he bent to whisper in her ear. “It’s your turn now.”
Rosa stared at his unbuttoned shirtfront and the inviting slash of dark, satin-smooth skin that showed behind the gaping linen. Entranced by the mystery of all that was not yet exposed to her view, she gathered her courage and reached out impulsively, grabbed the sides of his shirt, and yanked the linen out of his waistband.
His smile widened.
Inspired by his reaction to her forwardness, Rosa stretched upward and tried to push the shirt off of his shoulders. He helped by shrugging himself free. The shirt fell to the floor.
Rosa smiled in triumph. It was his turn.
He reached around behind her and fought to release the stubborn hooks and eyes that held her waistband closed. She assisted by taking a step toward him, but discovered the move only placed her a breath away from his broad, smooth-skinned chest. She watched his breast rise and fall with each breath, felt the magnetic heat that radiated from him. Nothin
g in the world could have kept her from pressing her lips to the place where his heart was pounding as wildly as her own.
The hook and eye finally gave. Rosa felt the waistband sag before it draped her hips. Kase slipped his thumbs inside the skirt and pushed the fabric past her hips to the floor. She stood in a puddle of rose-patterned wool.
He took her hand like a courtier, and she stepped out of her skirt like a queen. Kase led her to the bed. The mound of lace and fringe-edged pillows lay scattered about the bed; he swept them out of the way with a wave of his arm. Then, before he directed her to sit, he tossed back the satin spread.
Rosa sat on the edge of the bed, and Kase knelt before her, his capable hands working the buttons of her shoes free. He threw the shoes aside, then rolled down her ribbed woolen stockings. A frown creased his brow, and he looked up at her questioningly.
“Have you ever had a pair of silk stockings?” He thought of his sister, who had probably not worn wool stockings since she was eleven. Caleb always teased Annika that she must have been appointed to the post of national clothes collector without the family’s knowledge. Her room was usually cluttered with petticoats and shoes, hats, and all manner of women’s geegaws. Now that he thought of it, he’d seen more than one pair of expensive embroidered stockings hanging from her bureau drawer.
Rosa shook her head, worried that she had somehow proved unworthy.
Kase made a mental note to ask his mother to send him a few pairs of stylish silk stockings when he wrote to her tomorrow. He noticed Rosa’s apprehensive expression. “Would you like some wine?” he asked.
The wine she had already consumed had warmed her, made her feel more relaxed than she ever imagined she could under the circumstances. Though she was far from intoxicated, Rosa knew the wine was helping her ease into this new experience of sitting half naked with her dark-skinned Gypsy kneeling at her feet. She visibly started when he reached beneath her petticoat and rested his heated palms against her thighs.
“No, grazie, no wine.” She was barely able to speak.
Kase stared up at her, took in the sight of her hair falling about her shoulders, saw it piled up about her hips, midnight black against the sheets. Her eyes were round with anticipation and wonder; her lips, already swollen from his kisses, appeared moist and inviting.
He slid his hands higher, reveling in the feel of her silken thighs. Leaning forward, he pressed his upper body against her knees and slowly slid his hands up to her hips. He reached for the waistband of her petticoat. The bow that held the undergarment closed slipped open easily. He hooked his thumbs into her petticoat and pantalets. When he tried to remove them, she balked.
Rosa leaned forward and cupped his face in her hands. She kissed him gently, her hair falling forward to tease him where it grazed his bare chest. She whispered against his lips. “Please. I cannot. Not with the light.” She held her breath, hoping he would not be angered by her request.
“The lamp stays on, but I’m going to try to stand up”—he gave her a wry smile—“and I’m going to pour two glasses of wine. Then I’m going to get out of these pants and join you. If you hurry, you should have just enough time to get all that off”—he pointed to her underclothes—“and get under the sheet before I get back.”
He was up and moving before she translated all he had said. When understanding dawned, Rosa stood and scrambled to the other side of the bed hoping it might afford her some modesty. She shucked off her pantalets and petticoat, then slid beneath the sheet. The camisole was still on when he crossed the room, stark naked, a wineglass in either hand.
Rosa stared at him, at the lean, long look of him in his nudity, at the unleashed strength in his torso and his erection. Then she looked at the fragile wineglasses in his hands and started to giggle.
“Thanks.” He feigned a frown. “What’s so funny?”
She took the glass he offered. “I am thinking, such a very interesting waiter you would make at Rosa’s in that ... that ...”
“Getup?”
“Sì.”
He slid beneath the sheet and used two pillows to prop himself up against the headboard. “A toast,” he said, raising his glass high, “to beginnings.”
“Salute.”
Kase drained his wine and set the glass aside.
“That is not the way one should drink fine wine.”
He noted her slightly trembling hand. “That’s the way you had better drink it or you’ll end up wearing it.” As he leaned toward her, the bed dipped with his weight.
Rosa took a sip, then another, but found her fingers trembling so that she could not drink any more. As it was, ruby drops of cabernet stained her camisole and ran slowly down her breast.
Kase took her glass and turned away long enough to place it beside his own. Then he stretched across the bed and leaned over to slide his tongue down the slick trail of wine on her breast until the camisole prevented further exploration.
“I thought you were going to undress.”
“I did—most.”
“Oh, now I have to do the rest?”
“Sho’ nuf.” There was a hint of mischief in her eyes.
The hearty sound of his laughter filled the room and Rosa’s heart swelled. She had made him laugh at last.
His laughter subsided, but a smile played about his lips. “Easy enough,” he obliged as he slipped the straps down her arms.
“That’s not the way.”
“No?”
“No. Over the head. Up.”
He sighed. When she raised her arms willingly, he grabbed the hem of the camisole and drew it off. With a flick of his wrist the cotton top went flying.
He drew the sheet back exposing the full lushness of her breasts. Before she could protest, Kase traced one of her peaked nipples with his tongue, then drew it between his teeth and tenderly toyed with the ripened bud until Rosa began to writhe in passionate agony. As his own excitement steadily increased, he ministered to the other dusky brown peak. Breathless, she clung to him, dazed by the sensations he plumbed from a wellspring deep within her. Consumed by ovemhelming need, Rosa held him close, afraid to move lest he stop.
Their limbs entwined. Kase pinned her beneath his heavier frame as she undulated against him and sought release from the pent-up desire that threatened to explode at any moment. He knew he would have to move slowly for her sake as well as his own lest he bring them both to the brink of completion too quickly. Trying to ignore the aching pressure in his loins, he pulled away and gazed down at the woman in his arms. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dazed, her lips parted.
“Please ...” she implored in a whisper.
His lips plundered hers, his tongue searched and demanded as it heightened their mutual pleasure. His hand slipped over the indentation of her waist, the lush curve of her hip. He brushed the silken nest at the apex of her thighs and then, without hesitation, his fingers found the enticingly moist entrance hidden there.
Instinctively, she raised her hips at his touch. As he delved deeper, as he ministered to her with sure, quick strokes, Rosa shuddered, clasped him tighter, and strained against him. His hands were magic, confident, and expert. Her every thought became focused on the man who plied her with such care, such finesse. His tongue circled slowly, tantalizing her own as his fingers duplicated the movement inside her. Soon her hips were sensuously imitating the same motions.
A sound was torn from her throat; a low, agonized moan that gave voice to the intense fire he had stoked inside her. As he muttered encouragement against her lips, his breath was hot and sweetly scented with wine. Rosa was lost in a world of sensation, a world scented with sage, wood smoke, and the maleness of him. She tasted the salt on his skin and the wine on his lips that mingled with the essence that was Kase alone. His skin was hot, moist with a sheen of perspiration. His hair fell forward with a feather-light caress to tease her cheek.
He continued to urge her to the brink of climax with his hand until he knew she was on the verge of release; then
he pulled away and tried to still his own labored breathing. The sound of laughter echoed hollowly through the hallway outside, but Rosa was oblivious to the intrusion. Kase drew her into his arms and held her close as she continued to undulate against his hips with slow, rhythmic movements.
Raising himself on an elbow, Kase stared down at Rosa, gauged the hunger he saw reflected in her eyes, and knew that he could not wait any longer to give her what they both craved. He reached out and his hand came in contact with one of the satin pillows shoved against the headboard. He pulled it close, then, slipping one hand beneath her, silently urged her to raise her hips.
Consumed with want, Rosa complied, and Kase deftly slid the pillow beneath her. Positioned thus, her hips tilted to receive him, her heart beating with anticipation that only intensified with each passing second, Rosa held her breath.
He slid his hand along her thigh, gave her a silent signal that begged admittance, and she complied by spreading her legs to accommodate him. Gently, careful to keep his heavier weight from taxing her too greatly, Kase moved over her until he rested between her thighs.
She was grateful that he had insisted the lamp remain lit, for the lamplight enabled her to see the desire mirrored in his deep blue eyes. He smiled his slow, easy smile, then dipped his head to tug once more at her nipples before he groaned aloud. It was a rough sound, a totally male sound that made Rosa instantly aware of the power he held leashed inside.
Then suddenly he pressed the tip of his heated shaft to the entrance of her womanhood. There was no hesitant searching, no wavering indecisiveness. As Kase buried himself within her, the angle of her hips allowed him full access to her heated depths. Slowly, surely, he began to plunge and withdraw until Rosa cried out, not in pain, but in joy, until she was convulsed with waves of passion that only intensified until Kase clasped her to him. He cried out hoarsely as his own passion culminated in release.
As her climax radiated upward and outward in ever-widening circles of sensation, as she felt him spew his seed deep inside her, Rosa realized a fulfillment she had never experienced with Giovanni, one she never even knew was possible. Shaken by her response to Kase, she closed her mind to such haunting thoughts and reveled in the moment.
Rose Page 21