by Lori Foster
Lace kept her words to herself. But her thoughts drifted, and before they reached his house, she felt certain she was in as bad a shape as Daniel. Maybe worse.
*
Seven
« ^ »
Daniel watched as Lace slowly pulled herself from the car. He was rushing things, pushing her too fast. She still needed time to heal, and today, with all the running around, she looked especially tired. Beautiful, but tired. He held her arm to make certain she wouldn’t slip on the icy ground and looked down at her. “This was a bad idea.”
Lace reached up and smoothed her fingertips over his mouth. “Nonsense. It’s an excellent idea. Don’t be nervous.”
His eyes widened. Lace thought he feared the idea of being intimate? What he feared was the depth of his feelings for her. It wasn’t something he’d bargained for. Knowing she’d gone to another doctor to have her wound checked, then later to have the stitches removed, had outraged his possessive instincts. He didn’t trust anyone else to care for her—and he didn’t want anyone else looking at her body. Ridiculous, being that he was a doctor himself and understood the level of detachment between physician and patient.
Somehow it just didn’t matter with Lace.
“You look ready to fall on your face. Have you taken a pain pill today?”
She scoffed. “I don’t need them anymore. Honestly, Daniel, I’m fine. Quit clucking like a mother hen, take a deep breath and invite me in.”
He succumbed to her suggestion. Of course, being that he was male and she was more beautiful and desirable than any woman he’d ever known, she might have stood silent and he’d have given in. He wanted her too much to wait.
A huge wreath decorated his front door, drawing Lace’s attention. “You enjoy decorating for the holidays, don’t you?”
He unlocked the door and pushed it open. “It’s a tradition. My mother always had a wreath on every door, mistletoe in every doorway, and lights strung over everything that didn’t move. Annie and Max can barely remember, but I do.”
He held her hand as they stepped inside, then he kissed her, a light, teasing kiss that made her smile. He pointed toward the ceiling. “Mistletoe,” he said.
Lace kicked the door closed with her small boot, took him by the collar of his coat, and pulled his mouth down to her own. “A real kiss,” she whispered against his mouth.
Damn, but she could make his hair curl when she put her mind to it. Daniel tried to keep his hands at his sides, tried to moderate his breathing. But then her tongue touched his and he lost control. He pulled her gently closer, meshing their bodies together, instinctively pressing his groin into her soft belly. He ate at her mouth, loving the taste of her, and she moaned in approval. “Lace…”
“Let’s get out of our coats.” He watched as she shrugged off her cape, letting it slip to the floor behind her. Dressed in her requisite black, she looked stunning. A black, hip-length cashmere sweater, black leggings, and black ankle boots made the paleness of her hair and the deep green of her eyes more pronounced.
She looked at him expectantly and he slipped his own coat off, draping it over an arm. He wanted to get out of everything, wanted her naked and open and anxious, but he had to play shy and timid. That took a lot of thought, so he used the time it took him to put their coats away to ponder the problem.
“Would you like some coffee?” Even as the words left his mouth, he winced. He sounded like a damned inane fool.
She blinked at him in lazy confusion. “Above all things, coffee was what I wanted.”
He started to laugh, but turned it into a cough. Impatient little witch. “You can look around at the house if you like, while I get the coffee going.”
To his surprise, she headed down the hall to the bedrooms. Daniel leaned around the corner and watched her.
“Which room is yours?”
His brain immediately conjured vivid images of her stripping naked, reposing herself on top of his patchwork quilt, arranging herself for his perusal. He shook his head. “The door at the very end of the hall. Along the way is the hall bath, my study and a spare room, in that order.”
“Thanks.” She disappeared into his bedroom, and curiosity got the better of him. He followed.
“What are you doing, Lace?”
“Just looking around, as you suggested. You’ve seen my bedroom, inspected my drawers and my underthings. It only seems fair that I have a peek, too.”
“You intend to check out my briefs?”
“Hmm. Later, when you undress.” Her eyes shone brightly with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. “But for now, I just wanted to see your house, to see if I come away as surprised as you did.”
He barely registered her words; his brain had quit functioning when she mentioned watching him strip. “Lace, aren’t you going a bit fast?”
She looked under his high, antique bed. Why, he had no idea. Did she think he hid girlie magazines there? Or maybe a girlie? Next, she peered into his closet.
“I’m only trying to catch up, Daniel.” Her hands trembled as she rifled through his clothes. “Don’t worry. I’m not rushing you.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
She flashed him a quick, nervous smile. “Good. I want you to relax, to think of this as a natural thing.”
“‘This’?”
“Us being together. There’s nothing to fear, you know. I’m not going to be judging your performance.” Her cheeks pinkened and she cleared her throat. “As you said, we’ll just get better acquainted with each other.”
Crossing his arms behind his back, he leaned against the wall. He needed the physical support to remain upright. “I sort of figured we’d start in the living room, have a little conversation, maybe neck a little.”
“I imagine we’ll neck a lot.” She tilted her head toward him. “You do like kissing, don’t you? Even though you need some practice?”
“I like kissing.”
“Excellent.” She perched on the edge of his bed and bounced lightly, testing his mattress, he supposed. His vision fogged. “Soft enough. That’s good.”
He started to ask, Soft enough for what? but couldn’t seem to force the words from his mouth, not with Lace leaning down to tug off her boots. Then he noticed the slight frown of pain her movements caused her, and he went to her.
“Let me do that.”
Kneeling, he took her small foot onto his lap and pulled off her boot. Lace took his actions in stride, leaning back onto her elbows on his bed and watching him with an interested gaze. After he’d pulled off the second boot, he stood. “Comfy?”
“I’m getting there.”
Her voice had dropped a little and the pink flush staining her cheeks spread to her throat. Arousal. His knees nearly buckled. He wanted to step between her legs and lower his body onto hers, to press his hard frame into her soft one. He wanted to ride her gently until she cried out, then ride her hard until they were both insensate. Instead, he sat beside her on the mattress and tried to look uncertain. The effort sorely taxed him.
“Are you sure you don’t want any coffee?”
She took several fast, shallow breaths, then shook her head. “I want you.”
His eyes closed and he swallowed. If he moved, he’d blow everything. He hadn’t counted on the effect of her words, of her desire. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t pretend a distance he didn’t feel, not when every muscle in his body strained for her, not when he felt harder than he ever had in his entire life.
The bed dipped as Lace sat up. He felt his glasses slide off as she removed them, then the cool, soft touch of her mouth on each eyelid. Evidently she’d taken his hesitation for reserve and was determined to encourage him.
“Number one, Daniel. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Her voice was soft, breathy. “Anything we do together, anything we find mutually satisfying, is good.”
His fingers knotted in the quilt to keep from touching her. He kept his eyes closed. Lace leaned across him to put his glass
es on the nightstand, then caught the hem of his sweater and worked it up his body.
“I love how you look, Daniel.” He obediently raised his arms when she nudged him, and the sweater skimmed over his head. Lace tossed it aside and then smoothed his hair back into place, petting him, but not where he’d like, not where he desperately wanted her touch.
Her knuckles brushed his belly when she began working on his belt and he groaned, a ragged, hoarse sound. His body shook with the restraint put on it, and matched the nervous shaking of her hands.
With her lips touching his ear, Lace whispered, “Lean back.”
When he didn’t do so quickly enough to suit her, she pressed her hands to his shoulders and urged him backward. He went, but she went with him, landing on his chest with a soft sigh. He felt her hair sweep down to tickle his cheekbones as she touched her mouth to his. Her hands coasted over his shoulders, then his chest, lightly striking over his nipples. He pressed his head back into the mattress and tried to think of other things, of the hospital, the snow outside. Lace kissed his throat.
“You’re so tight. Relax a little.”
His rough laugh showed her how ludicrous he thought that suggestion to be.
Then she went back to his belt.
Out of sheer preservation, Daniel caught her hands. “Lace, wait.” He didn’t recognize his own voice.
“Shh. It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.”
That bit of inanity nearly pushed him over the edge. Enough was enough. If she didn’t slow down, he wouldn’t last, wouldn’t be able to give her pleasure, and more than anything, more than his own need, he wanted to see Lace McGee in the throes of a climax.
He carried each of her small fists to his mouth and kissed them. “Don’t you have some catching up to do?”
When she lifted a brow, he touched the edge of her sweater, then saw her cheeks darken with color as understanding dawned.
“You … you want me to take my clothes off?”
Her nervous response was endearing, especially in light of how hard she’d been working to relax him, to put him at ease. “Don’t you want to?” he asked, managing to inject just enough insecurity into his question to prompt her to action.
“Sure. All right.” If anything, she looked even more uncertain, and he wondered at it. Perhaps she had a special way of doing things, a certain organization to her seduction. Maybe disrobing was supposed to come later, but he needed to have access to her now, to touch and taste her so that they’d both be in the same boat, so to speak. When he drowned, he wanted her with him.
Lace turned her back and wiggled out of her sweater, taking her time about it. Daniel admired the smooth line of her back, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. She had one tiny mole on the top of her right shoulder blade, and he leaned forward to kiss it. Lace froze.
Warily looking over her shoulder at him, she asked, “Well? Shouldn’t you be getting your shoes off?”
He didn’t understand her rush. To Daniel, most of the pleasure in lovemaking was taking his time, enjoying a woman’s body, playing with her, teasing. Letting the tension build until they were both crazy with need. Lace seemed to be moving at Mach speed for some reason. He wondered if his supposed inexperience made her nervous, or if she assumed he was the one in a hurry.
Maybe she even thought he’d back down if she didn’t race through things.
He smiled at her. “If that’s what you want. You’re the one in charge here, remember.”
She unhooked the front closure of her bra—a snowy white, lacy affair that surprised him as much as it pleased him. She held the cups to her chest and kept her back turned to him. Despite his building urgency, he shrugged, willing to let her call the shots.
When he leaned over to yank off his shoes and socks, Lace draped herself across his back and hugged him. The shock of feeling her soft, full breasts against his skin made him shudder. He started to turn to her, but she held him tight. “Shh. Relax, Daniel.”
He wished she’d quit telling him that. Relaxation at this point was as beyond him as the moon.
Smoothing her palms up and down his skin, she let her nipples graze his back again and again until he knew he’d explode if she didn’t stop. It would all be over with, and Lace would be assured of his inept abilities. He grit his teeth and forced her to release him as he turned.
Her gaze moved away as he looked at her. She was so damned sexy, so beautiful. It was his turn to press her back onto the mattress, and she allowed it, closing her eyes and biting her lips. Daniel stripped her leggings off her with one long tug, taking her matching white bikini panties at the same time. Lace turned her face away, until her nose almost touched the mattress. But since his attention wasn’t centered on her nose, he dismissed her actions and took in the beauty of her body.
She wasn’t perfect, as he’d always thought, but the narrowness of her hips excited him, as did the slight swell of her belly. Beneath her breasts he could see her ribs and he thought she needed to gain some weight, but her legs, long and lightly muscled and smooth, made it impossible to draw a deep breath.
The curly tangle of hair between her thighs was pale and silky, and he smiled. A true blonde.
Belatedly remembering his plan, he whispered, “I want to kiss you, Lace.”
Her eyes shot open, caught the direction of his gaze, and she gasped. “Where?”
Everywhere. “Wherever you’d like.”
She licked her lips and a frown of concentration puckered her brow. Finally, after an undue amount of thought and an audible swallow, she touched her breast. “Here.”
Daniel laid his hand gently on her breast, then watched her belly hollow out as she sucked in her breath. Slowly, letting her anticipate his touch, he circled her nipple with one fingertip. Her nipple puckered, and the pale pink turned rosier. Lightly, he pinched, and she twisted, curling in on a low sound of pleasure.
Never had he been so aroused over so little, but seeing Lace’s free response nearly broke his restraint. He leaned down and licked her, one slow stroke of his tongue. “Here?”
Her breathing turned raspy, and she nodded. He kissed her, a small, lighter-than-air touch, then asked, “You’re certain?”
“Yes!” She gripped his head and pressed him closer.
Smiling, he took her deep into his mouth and sucked tenderly. Lace tangled her fingers in his hair and held him tight, one of her long legs snagging his hips and pulling his body close. She groaned and whimpered, and her reaction fueled his own.
He kissed her other breast, then jerked free to shove off his pants. Lace watched him through wide, glazed eyes. He lowered himself back to her side and cupped her mound, tangling his fingers in her soft, curly hair. She arched against him, breathless, trembling. “Daniel, please.”
“Tell me what to do.” No longer playing the novice, he asked out of a sense of seduction, knowing the question would arouse her further, would allow her to keep that impression of control.
“Touch me.” The words were said on a moan, and Daniel complied.
His fingers pressed, parted. The soft sounds coming from deep in her throat encouraged him.
“Open your legs a little, sweetheart.”
The second her thighs parted, he slipped his finger in, not deep, just teasing, testing her readiness. To his surprise and immense pleasure, she was wet, hot, swelled. And incredibly tight. He groaned with her.
They each seemed to have forgotten their roles, and Daniel had no intention of reminding her. He could barely think, barely breathe; he sure as hell couldn’t act!
Lace’s hips lifted in tandem with the movements of his hand and suddenly it was too much. He turned away to retrieve a condom from the nightstand, and he no sooner had it on, than Lace was reaching for him, her fingers digging deep into the muscles of his shoulders, urging him to haste.
A single second of clarity righted in his mind, and he clasped Lace’s hips, remembering her injury. “Onto your side, sweetheart.”
She froze,
then stared at him.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Lace.” His words were hushed, hurried. “It’ll be easier on you this way. I can control things better.”
She frowned, her eyes momentarily darkening in suspicion, but he didn’t give her a chance to think about this evidence of his experience. He turned her to face him, then brought her uninjured leg over his hip.
Lace stared at him wide-eyed, confused, anxious, curious. He wanted to bury himself in her, make her a part of him, but he’d noticed the still pink scar on her bottom, an angry reminder of her delicate condition. Daniel touched it lightly with his fingertips, soothing her, then summoned the last of nearly lost reserve and entered her gently, measuring her, clenching his jaw at the tightness of her, the natural resistance of her body. He saw Lace squeeze her eyes closed, saw her soft lips part as she drew in a long shuddering breath. Her shoulders grew taut, her back arched as she pushed her hips toward him.
By small degrees, he went deeper, trying to moderate his movements, trying to protect her from the violence of his lust. He moved one hand to her belly and caressed her, smiling at her small cry of excitement.
Her feminine muscles squeezed him, holding him so tight. Too tight, as if she’d never been touched this way before. And in the space of a heartbeat, realization hit and he lost his breath in one loud whoosh.
“Lace?” He stared at her flushed face and waited for the world to right itself.
Her arms slid up to tighten around his neck and she pressed her cheek into his throat. “This…” She swallowed, and he could feel the slight movements of her body, the way she tried to remain still but couldn’t. “This is a … a bad time for talking, Daniel.”
“But you’re a virgin?” He tried to dip his head, to see her face, but she kept her expression hidden. A virgin? His mind couldn’t simulate the consequences of such an occurrence. He stared at her tumbled hair, at her trembling shoulders, and he felt something strange, something warm and insistent and deep invade his soul. It curled in his chest, squeezing him, making his vision cloud with emotion, making his heart ache.