Fit for a King

by Diana Palmer

  “You had Warchief,” he pointed out, grinning. “Speaking of Warchief …” He glanced around. The big parrot was on his perch ring, one foot drawn up, his eyes closed. “Unusual, his going to sleep without being covered. Is that antibiotic working, do you think?”

  “He isn’t sneezing or rasping,” she said, grateful for the change of subject. “He’s better. He’s just sleepy. He always goes to sleep at dusk, when you’re not around.” She grinned. “He’s in love with you.”

  “I think he’s a she,” he laughed. Then he turned his attention back to her, looking down at the bodice of her jump suit with narrowing eyes. He moved experimentally, rubbing his chest against her, and she gasped at the sudden, sharp pleasure the friction produced.

  She flushed to the roots of her long dark hair. “King!”

  “Shocking, isn’t it?” he asked, lifting his narrow gaze to hers.

  Her eyes searched his, curiosity momentarily displacing her nervousness at this new intimacy.

  His gaze held hers while the hands at her waist began to move her in a sensuous circle against his hard, warm chest.

  The only sounds she heard were the hoarseness of the ocean against the sand and the wildness of her own breathing. She couldn’t bear to look at King as sensation overwhelmed her, and she lowered her forehead to his shoulder. He was breathing heavily, too, his heartbeat audible.

  His thumbs edged under her arms, brushing at the sides of her breasts, feeling her softness, feeling her begin to tremble with the newness of physical pleasure.

  “You aren’t wearing a bra, are you?” he whispered, his voice deep and soft at her ear. “That silky thing is so thin that it’s like holding you naked in my arms.”

  The power of the erotic suggestion was such that Elissa bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and her legs threatened to buckle underneath her. She shuddered.

  “Elissa,” he breathed roughly.

  She could smell the Scotch on his breath, but even that was oddly exciting. His arms suddenly lifted her into an embrace tight enough that she could feel his ribs digging into her. She clung to him, her face buried in his throat, breathing in the exquisitely male scent of him, her head spinning, her body aching for something it had never known, her breasts crushed against hard muscle. He bit her ear, then ran his tongue around its soft curves, an intimate gesture that she’d never realized could have such a profound effect.

  Her arms tightened around his neck, her face fiery with unexpected passion as he held her. Was she mistaken, or was there a fine tremor in the arms so fiercely holding her?

  His cheek brushed against hers. “Your breasts feel swollen,” he whispered, once more moving her body against him. “Do they ache?” he whispered knowingly.

  “Yes,” she gasped mindlessly. “Oh, King!” Her curiosity outweighed her caution, outweighed the fear that had always come with the threat of intimacy, and she reveled in the feel of his slick, damp skin against her tender breasts.

  “I can make them stop aching,” he whispered huskily. His lips traveled down her face to her throat, his breathing harsh and rapid. “Here …”

  His mouth slid over the silky bodice and suddenly pressed, open and hot, right against the soft curve of her thinly veiled breast.

  She cried out at the pleasure it gave her, and her back arched to give him access.

  But the sound had shocked King into realizing what he was doing. His head jerked up, his eyes wide and frankly stunned. “Dear God,” he said harshly. He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected to want her. He hadn’t known it until now, hadn’t dreamed … He felt the tautness of his body and suddenly released her and turned away, not wanting her to know what she was doing to him.

  She gaped at him. He was breathing harshly as he reached over to pick up his nearly finished drink from the table. His hand seemed to tremble a little as he lifted the glass to his mouth and drained it. “I’m sorry,” he bit off, setting the glass down hard on the table. “I didn’t expect that to happen.”

  He was apologizing, she registered, but for what? For wanting her? “I don’t … mind.” She said it and was amazed to find that it was true. She didn’t mind having him want her. It was heady and wildly exciting.

  He turned, his dark eyes glazed and questioning. “Why not?”

  She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.” Her eyes fell to his chest. “I still … I still ache,” she whispered shakily.

  His lips were parted, as if he was finding it difficult to breathe. “Have you felt like that with anyone else?” he asked, distressed to realize it was suddenly deeply important that he know.

  “No,” she confessed, her voice soft, gentle.

  He couldn’t decide what to do. Should he send her home or pick her up in his arms and take her into his bed and show her how sweet he could make it for her? Damn. How could just a couple of drinks make him so addled?

  She looked up at that moment and saw the indecision in his eyes, and she knew exactly what had caused it. Her face colored. “I—I can’t sleep with you,” she whispered huskily. “I … like what you just did to me, but … I can’t deal with that kind of easy intimacy. Not even with you.”

  His dark eyes roamed down her body, the sight of that sweet softness he’d known so briefly making him ache. He caught her eyes. “I can make you want it,” he said in a stranger’s sensuous voice.

  “And after?” she asked.

  He drew in a slow breath. “My God, what am I saying?”

  “It’s been a hard night for you,” she said, forcing herself not to take it too seriously. He was frustrated, that was all, and she was handy and he’d forgotten all the reasons why not. “I wish things were different.”

  “So do I.” He rammed his hands into his pockets. “Believe me, so do I.” It was the truth, his body fairly throbbed with wanting her. How odd, his muddled brain mused, to have this kind of reaction to Elissa when it was Bess he’d been afraid of wanting. Could it be misplaced desire? Lord, he couldn’t even think straight.

  “I’d better go home.”

  He turned. “I’ll walk you.”

  “No. It’s all right. You can watch me out the door,” she said quickly—too quickly.

  “I can’t help it, you know,” he said softly, accurately reading the apprehension in her lovely face and smiling in spite of himself when she colored. “A man’s body will give him away every time. But I trust you not to take advantage of it,” he added with dry humor.

  She stared at him, then gasped with helpless laughter, “You horrible man!”

  “Well, I’m vulnerable,” he commented as he opened the front door and stood aside to let her pass. “A man has to look out for his honor, after all. I might marry someday. She’ll want to be the first.”

  “I’m sure she’d be at least the fifteenth,” she chided, laughing at her own boldness. Now that the heart-shattering truth of just moments before had passed, it was once again easy to talk to him, even about the intimate things.

  “Not quite that many,” he mumbled as they walked, the breeze, warm and salty smelling, ruffling the fronds of the palm trees.

  “Well, you didn’t learn what you did back there by reading a book,” she observed.

  He cocked an eyebrow and laughed faintly. “No, I didn’t.” He stopped, tilting her chin up. “God, it was sweet.”

  Her lips parted, and her breath caught in her throat. Then he laughed softly, angrily, as he took her arm, almost roughly, and propelled her along the moonlit beach. “I must be drunk,” he muttered. “You’ll have to overlook a few things about tonight, I guess. I haven’t been myself.”

  Which was absolutely true. Even speaking was hard for him right now. He needed a cold shower—badly. And for some reason, he didn’t want Elissa to know what he was feeling, to know the extent of this bizarre aberration in his thought processes. It shocked him, the sudden hunger he felt to strip her out of that jump suit, throw her down on the beach and make her his. He remembered how s
he’d looked in that sexy nightgown, and he almost groaned out loud. He had to be drunk all right, he told himself. How could he even imagine a union between them? She with her hang-ups and he with his impossibly confused feelings for Bess. Was this what people meant by love on the rebound? Or had he always wanted Elissa and refused to acknowledge it in the face of her physical reticence?

  “You’re very quiet,” she said when they reached her door.

  “I’m shocked at my own behavior,” he said curtly.

  “It’s been difficult for you,” she returned, unable to meet his eyes. “It was just the alcohol.”

  “Yes. It must have been. We’ll forget it happened.”

  “That might be best,” she said lightly, forcing herself not to show the disquiet she felt.

  “You don’t need to make it sound so damned easy,” he said, unreasonably irritated and finding himself on the verge of spewing out exactly what he’d wanted to keep silent about, yet unable to stop himself. His self-control was shot. “Do you know how much I want to lay you down in the sand and have you? Do you?” he demanded harshly. “And because of that, you’d better stay away from me until I get myself together.” Hurting, and lashing out because of it, he straightened to deal the killing blow. “Because anything I did right now would be because of Bess—wanting Bess—and you’d better remember it.”

  It was a lie—he was too confused to know his own mind right now—but he reasoned that enough people stood to get hurt by Bess’s recent interest in him, and he didn’t want Elissa to become a casualty, too. Anything—anything at all—that would keep her at arm’s length would ultimately be for her own good. She didn’t need to compromise her innocence because of his confused longings. So he’d have to be cruel to be kind, even though she wouldn’t realize it right now. Someday, however, she’d thank him for what must seem like callous behavior.

  She clenched her teeth. He hadn’t exactly shocked her with the admission—she’d suspected she’d been a stand-in for Bess—but had he needed to be so blunt? “Then I’ll say good night.”

  “Say it, and go inside.” He jammed his hands into his pockets.

  “What a sweet-tempered man you are,” she muttered. She turned to unlock the door, then glared at him over her shoulder as she went inside. “Thanks for a lovely evening. I did so enjoy it.”

  He glared back. “Including the way you threw yourself at me back there?” he asked with a cold, mocking smile, pushing her that last step.

  He was asking for a hard slap. She tried to remember that he’d been drinking, but all she wanted to do was push him into a coral reef and whistle for a passing shark! “I was drinking,” she admitted, “and so were you.”

  “Well, I won’t make the same mistake with you again,” he returned coldly. “Obviously you can’t hold your liquor.” He didn’t know why he was goading her—why didn’t he let her go inside, where she’d be safely away from him?

  “Said the pot to the kettle!” she threw back, fuming. “You were the one who started it!”

  “You weren’t fighting very hard,” he pointed out.

  She clenched her fists. “Next time you need help with your love life, find another pigeon. I’m not playing second fiddle to you and your sister-in-law!”

  “Stop shouting,” he grumbled.

  “I’ll shout if I like. And I want my bird back!”

  “When he’s well, with my blessing,” he shot back.

  Her lower lip trembled. She was near tears. With her fists clenched at her sides, she felt herself shaking with mingled rage and frustration. Here she was yelling things she didn’t mean but couldn’t help saying, and she didn’t know what to do about it. She’d never felt like this before, and she didn’t even understand what was wrong.

  “I hate you!” she wailed.

  He took his hands out of his pockets and moved close, cupping her head in his lean fingers, holding her firmly. “Do you, Elissa?” That’s what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? To protect her from himself? But as he gazed down into her wide, glistening eyes, he felt a wave of emotion crash over him, engulfing him in frustrated desire. He was only human, after all.

  “In lieu of a cold shower …” he said under his breath, and he bent his head.

  Elissa’s mouth felt bruised from the sheer force of his hard lips, and he didn’t spare her. His mouth lifted for an instant, only to come down again more intimately, his tongue pushing into her mouth, his fingers biting into her to tilt her head and give him better access to her lips.

  She moaned, and he caught his breath. “Open your mouth,” he ground out, his hands at her throat, lifting, coaxing. “Oh, God, Elissa, open your mouth….”

  She did, shuddering as he deepened the kiss. Her knees weakened and threatened to collapse, but the instant her body relaxed against the rigid strength of his, he seemed to come to his senses. His lips lifted slowly, delicately probing, brushing. He felt her breasts, so smooth and hard tipped, press against him, saw her expression soft with confused desire. Elissa. He blinked, his mind in limbo. He wanted her. His body ached to have hers, to press it into the soft sand beneath his, to feel her skin warm and welcoming under his hands….

  Elissa … He cursed under his breath and stopped abruptly, feeling outraged at his lack of control. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. That damned Scotch! What was he doing? He went rigid and suddenly all but threw her away from him.

  “Was that what you wanted?” he demanded, wanting to hurt, to make her pay for that lapse in his control. “Now you know, so go inside, little girl. You’ll have to get the rest of your experience with someone else. I don’t initiate virgins.”

  She swallowed. He wasn’t making any sense at all; he was being totally erratic. His fists clenched, and she saw the shudder ripple through his powerful body. Too much to drink, her mind registered. Dangerous.

  “Who asked you to?” she shot back. She hated him. She hated him! With shaking hands she opened the door, went inside and slammed it behind her, locking it, as well. Outside she heard a harsh muttered curse.

  She collapsed against the wall with an unsteady sigh. She hadn’t expected that. As a matter of fact, about the last thing she’d expected after his outburst was for him to kiss her. He’d never kissed her before tonight. Come to think of it, they’d never argued before. She felt a lump in her throat as she realized that she’d just lost a good friend and she didn’t even understand why.

  His footsteps died away, and all she heard was the gentle wind off the Caribbean. She touched her lips, feeling their swollen fullness with wonder. Her tongue touched them and tasted him.

  It all seemed like a dream. For some reason King had stepped completely out of character, and for that matter, she had, too. But none of it made any sense. Surely if King were pining away for his sister-in-law, he wouldn’t be capable of that kind of passion with another woman. Or would he? She cursed her ignorance of men and their basic makeup.

  Trying to sort things out, she concluded that if King needed to used her as a shield, he must have some kind of special feeling for Bess. The tender look in his eyes when he’d gazed at his sister-in-law had afforded Elissa a rare glimpse behind the mask of cool reserve King usually wore. Apparently, Bess had always been special to him, and now, maybe for the first time, he was confronting her in a new way—as a desirable woman, not just as a relative.

  Elissa sighed, remembering with guilt her own delicious abandon in King’s arms. She was sure the drinks had influenced her. They’d obviously influenced him, too. She went into her bedroom and flicked on the light, quietly removing the jump suit and putting on a long, plain cotton nightgown. King had reminded her that anything he did to her would be only out of desire for Bess. Was that completely true? she wondered. There were so many puzzles now. Their uncomplicated friendship had turned into a mental wrestling match.

  She brushed her long hair and crawled into bed. But once she turned out the light, she could feel all over again the warmth of King’s lips on hers, his tongue pushin
g into her mouth in a kiss unlike any she’d ever experienced. She felt her face go hot as she remembered just how involved he’d gotten. And he’d accused her of throwing herself at him! Incredible, how much his sharp words had hurt. Of course, she’d been spared his temper for the past two years. She might never have seen it if he hadn’t made such a blatant pass at her in the first place. Men!

  Well, her sexy nightie was still lying on his bed, she remembered; she hoped it gave him nightmares. She rolled over and closed her eyes, counting waves and praying for sleep. You can just hold your breath until I do you another favor, King Roper, she thought furiously.

  Chapter Four

  In her wild and confusing dreams, Elissa felt King’s hands caressing her, molding her curves, teaching her new movements, new sensations. She could see his face taut with passion, feel the ripple of his muscles as he began a pagan rhythm with his body….

  She sat up straight in bed, drenched with sweat and trembling from the effects of those sensuous and disturbing dreams. Her own reactions shocked her. Were all those years of suppressing her sensuality about to explode in her face? Last night her old fears of intimacy had dropped away, and she’d felt straightforward desire for the first time in her life.

  It was the vodka, she thought stubbornly, trying desperately to get her delinquent emotions under control. After all, how could she forget that King had accused her of throwing herself at him?

  “Sure I did,” she muttered as she went into the living room that overlooked the beach. “Sure I did. I forced him to hold me like that and kiss my …”

  She swallowed, ignoring the instant hardening of her nipples. This was outrageous! Where was her pride?

  She made herself a cup of coffee and opened a packaged pastry, nibbling at it halfheartedly as she began to scribble ideas for new designs on her big sketch pad. Unfortunately, nothing appealed to her. She stayed with her work for a few minutes and then gave up, walking out onto her small patio. Her long hair and wildly colorful caftan fluttered in the eternal breeze from the sea, and she let the sound of the surf soothe her as she gazed appreciatively at a big sailboat on the horizon.