by Darcy Daniel
Anthea bit her lip. How she wanted to do just that. To stand beside him, his hand in hers, as they enjoyed talking to his friends. But she couldn’t risk being recognized. Especially since she had promised herself to tell him the truth tomorrow.
When she didn’t respond, he said, “Can’t you forget about your research for just one night?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
If she couldn’t yet be honest about her identity, the least she could do was be honest about how she felt.
“The whole time I’ve been in here, all I’ve wanted was to be out there…just to be with you.”
She watched his face, eager to see his responds to such a frank admission. But she didn’t get the reaction she hoped for, because he chuckled softly.
“That’s funny to you?” she asked, mouth agape.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “Considering the whole time I’ve been out there, all I’ve wanted was to be in here with you.”
Frozen in place, she let his words wash over her, let her heart soar. Outside the room, the song came to an end and Lionel Ritchie’s “Hello” began. Just as she lifted her hand to touch Cole, he leaned away, placed his wineglass on the floor beside the bed and rose.
She stared at him, heart racing as he stepped in front of her and offered her his hand. “May I have this dance?”
“You know how to dance?”
“A little.”
He was full of surprises. Placing her glass on the floor, she took his hand and moved in close. Apparently not close enough. He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her against him.
As they began to sway, Cole brought her hand in toward his chest and cradled it there. Could he feel how fast her heart was beating in contrast to their slow rocking?
Leaning in closer, he pressed his cheek to hers. She closed her eyes, let his scent fill her, let herself become aware of every plane of his body as it pressed against hers. No one had ever treated her this way before, and she wondered how he knew what to do.
He raised his head enough to rest his forehead against hers. She tried to look into his eyes, but they weren’t quite connecting with her. And then he stopped rocking. She knew he was going to kiss her, longed for him to, knowing it would be the most romantic kiss yet.
Instead, he released her hand and lifted his forehead from hers. She almost groaned in frustration, until she saw his hand slowly move toward her face. When his fingertips gently grazed her forehead, she closed her eyes.
He wanted to see her.
His soft touch lingered, like he had all the time in the world. When his fingers brushed across her forehead, he leaned in and followed their path with his lips. He traced an eyebrow, kissed it, ran his fingertips over her eyelid and placed a delicate kiss there. His touch feathered over her cheek while his lips gave a languid chase. Then down, tracking lightly over her jaw, his lips pursuing. When his fingertips rose and touched her lips, a thrill of anticipation coursed through her.
So gently, he brushed his lips against hers.
“Is this how it should be?” he asked.
And he kissed her. Kissed her exactly how she’d kissed him that very first time. Catching her top lip between his, then her lower lip. She’d told him she’d never been kissed the way she thought it should be. Then she’d shown him. And now, he was giving her what she always wanted. Her fantasy kiss.
Soon the kiss changed, and she recognized it instantly. Their second kiss, the kiss that made her realize she had far deeper feelings for him than she wanted. As he gently swept his tongue over her lower lip, she couldn’t imagine why her emotions had frightened her. And then, as his passion grew and she matched it, he transported her to the river.
Although she thought it was impossible to fall deeper in love with him, she was wrong. Cole had paid attention to everything. He’d stored every detail of every kiss they shared and was bringing them together in one long, perfect kiss.
When they were forced to come up for air, she answered his question. “Yes,” she whispered against his lips. “Yes, that’s exactly how it should be.”
His chest rumbled as his mouth claimed hers again. This time the kiss was all his own, a mixture of what she’d shown him and his own need. Electricity jolted through her and she clung to him, her legs suddenly weak and untrustworthy. His grip around her waist tightened, and he moved.
At first she thought he was edging her toward the bed, but that was beside them. Instead, he eased her backward until she gently bumped into the wall.
Releasing his hands from her waist, he tangled them in her hair as their tongues delved and explored.
When he pressed his body against her, she was grateful that the wall offered no give. She needed the support while relishing the closeness of their bodies, the feel of his erection snug against her stomach.
Her hands found the bottom of his T-shirt and slipped beneath the pink material. His skin was hot and smooth, his muscles hard and taut. As she explored his body, his mouth left hers. Hot kisses pressed against the side of her neck and his tongue flicked against her skin as he tasted her and moved lower, to the curve where her neck joined with her shoulder.
His fingers brushed the loose strap of her dress aside, then her bra strap. His lips feathered against her naked shoulder as she trembled at the exquisite touch.
Even though she wanted to touch him and taste him too, she found it impossible to concentrate on anything but what he was doing to her. And he didn’t disappoint.
Easing the pressure of his body away from her slightly, he slipped his hand between them and found her breast. Through the thin material of her dress, he cupped her so gently she released a whimper of frustration. He was driving her insane with this slow, deliberate seduction, and she loved every second of it.
When his fingertips trailed across the loosened bodice above her breast, she breathed, “Yes.”
She buried her fingers in his soft hair as he eased his hand inside her bra, cupped her naked breast and freed it from its confines.
Still, he seemed in no hurry. Her nipple hardened against his palm as he squeezed and caressed. Unable to take it any longer, she pressed herself against the wall and guided his head from her shoulder to her collarbone. To her relief, he continued without any encouragement. When he reached the swell of her breast, he paused for just the briefest of moments before his mouth swept down and took her pebbled nipple. Gently at first, he explored with his lips and tongue. When she gasped, he opened his mouth wider and drew her in.
White-hot lightning shot through her very center and she arched beneath him, her fingers digging into his scalp. And then he released her, cupped her with his hand again as he kissed his way to her mouth, his thumb sliding over her nipple as they kissed hungrily.
Pressing his forehead to hers, he whispered, “Can I touch you?”
For a moment, she was confused. Wasn’t he already touching her? Then his request sank in through her fog of arousal, and she nodded slightly against his forehead.
Her breath quickened when he placed a warm hand on the outside of her thigh. One by one, his fingers lifted the material of her dress, slowly bunching it in his hands. It teased her flesh in a tantalizing tickle as the hem moved higher and higher until his fingers no longer found more material to raise, but instead caressed her bare skin.
How he could be so patient, she had absolutely no idea and didn’t care, just as long as he kept doing what he was doing.
His hand rose higher on her thigh, moved to the front and rose higher still. Then he reached her panties. His fingers curled into the waistband and she was sure he was going to drag them down. But he hesitated, and she had to remind herself that he’d never done this before.
Slowly, his fingers inched along the top of her underwear, his knuckles brushing her stom
ach. When he reached the point just below her belly button, he turned his hand, pressed his palm against her flat belly and angled his fingers until they slipped beneath the waistband. And then he paused again.
“Show me.” The whisper flowed over her lips, seemed to enter her body and pool between her legs.
Instead of his inexperience being a hindrance, he somehow managed to make it highly erotic.
Reaching between them, she covered his hand, slowly guiding him over the soft curls, down further until she had him right where she wanted him. She pressed on his middle finger, rolled it side to side.
“There,” she whispered. “Right there.” Then, knowing she’d lose it if she kept that up, she parted her legs slightly and moved his hand lower still, feeling her own wetness surround their fingers as she pressed him against her slick opening.
“And there,” she gasped.
His breath came in ragged rasps, as did her own. In a bold move, she pressed his finger inside her. He groaned deep in his throat, then moved of his own accord, pushing deeper, then retreating, spreading her wetness to the first place she showed him.
Almost losing it, she grabbed his wrist.
“No,” she whimpered. “I’m too close…and this time, I want you in—”
A sharp rap came from the door. They froze, and slowly the sound of voices and music drifted back to her. She’d so thoroughly blocked out everything but Cole, she forgot all his friends were still in the house.
“Hey, Cole? Ya in there?”
A frustrated growl escaped Cole. “Yeah, Mike,” he said, his voice thick, gravelly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.
“I caught that spider. Ya want me to kill it, or dump it outside?” Mike called through the door.
“Be there in a second,” Cole said, and to Anthea’s dismay, he released her and took a step away.
Before he could leave, she grabbed his arm, squeezed. “The spider…you were thinking about me?”
He grinned. “Pretty hard not to. Speaking of which, I can’t go out there in this state.”
She couldn’t help but glance at the thick shaft pressing insistently against the front of his pants. Unable to help herself, she chuckled. “Stay right there.”
In the closet, she found a shirt and pulled it from its hanger.
“Here, put this on,” she said and helped him into it, hating that she was dressing him instead of doing the opposite. After he shrugged into the shirt, she started on the buttons, which wasn’t easy with trembling fingers.
“You know,” she said, trying to steady her voice. “If we were alone, your state would be anything but a problem.”
She watched his face, watched him raise his eyebrows, blink fast. When she finished with the final button, she pulled the shirt’s tails over the front of his pants. They hid his arousal just fine.
“What’re you implying?” he asked as one side of his mouth began to curve upward.
Oh, he knew all right. “Exactly what you think I’m implying.”
He remained motionless for a moment, then in a flash, he dashed to the door and fumbled with the bolt.
As the door slammed shut, Anthea raised a hand to her mouth and laughed in delight.
* * *
Cole hurried along the hallway, barreled into the living room and shut off the stereo.
“Okay! Everyone out!” he shouted. As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how harsh they sounded, but at the moment, he didn’t give a damn. All he cared about was emptying the house so he could get back to Anthea.
He quickly made the excuse that he had a headache and, to his surprise, everyone seemed more than willing to comply.
On the veranda, he said goodbye to his guests, until Karin moved in front of him and patted his arm.
“Looks like I’m the last one,” she said. “So, you’ve got a headache? That’s why you’re cutting the barbie short?”
He shifted from one foot to the other, scratched his head.
“Yeah,” he lied.
“You do look a little flushed. Maybe I should take a look at you before I leave?”
He distinctly heard the teasing note in her voice. “Okay, you got me.”
Karin lowered her voice. “Since she didn’t make an appearance tonight, I presume you still haven’t told her you know who she is.”
His jaw tensed. He didn’t want to think about that.
“Don’t you think it might be a good idea to clear that up before you…take things any further?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I want to, believe me. It’s just… I feel like I’ve waited too long.”
“You haven’t already…”
“No. Hell. You know, you could’ve talked me out of this ridiculous plan.”
“Me? It was your idea.”
“Yeah, but you were more than willing to go along with it.” Damn it, what was wrong with him? This wasn’t Karin’s fault. He had no one to blame but himself.
“That’s beside the point, Cole. If you’re about to do what I think you are, she needs to know the truth.”
He crossed his arms, remained silent.
“All right, I get it. It’s none of my business. You’re a grown man. And I want you to know I’m happy for you, happy that things have turned out this way. But, Cole, you can’t build something real on a lie.”
He dropped his arms to his sides, nodded. “I know. I’ll tell her. I promise.”
Chapter Sixteen
Cole waited for Karin’s car to drive off before he moved. But he didn’t go inside. Not yet. Instead, he headed to the porch swing and took a seat.
He wanted nothing more than to rush inside and make love with Anthea, but knew it would be wrong to do that without first telling her the truth.
But how? Propping his elbows on his knees, he sank his hands into his hair. He’d put it off so many times, and now…now she wanted him in the most intimate way. To tell her the truth would be to risk her rejection.
Conflict warred inside him. He’d never had to make such an important decision in his life. He’d always prided himself on being a decent person, someone who could put himself in another’s shoes. But there was so much at stake here, and it seemed that whatever decision he made, it would be the wrong one.
Anthea wasn’t going to be happy that he lied to her. Even though he could point out that she’d lied to him too, it didn’t make him feel a damn bit better about himself. She may have lied, but he knew about her deception. She had no idea that he knew the truth, which made him the bigger liar.
A terrible thought crossed his mind. What if Anthea had emerged from his bedroom, thinking everyone had left, and had overheard his conversation with Karin?
Cole shot to his feet, crossed the veranda and hurried inside. He’d only ever felt such panic twice in his life—on that fateful night his parents died, and only this morning, when he thought he’d lose Meg. Even though this had nothing to do with a life-and-death situation, the thought of losing Anthea seemed to have the same impact on his heart.
When he reached the bedroom door, he paused, took a deep breath and opened it.
Feeling utterly vulnerable, he stepped into the room.
“Please tell me you’re still here,” he said softly, like a prayer.
To his relief, he heard her light laughter and knew he’d never hear a sound so wonderful for as long as he lived. Unless she stayed with him.
As he moved forward, her bare feet crossed the floorboards to meet him and her arms encircled his neck. He hugged her tight.
She pressed her lips to his and he detected a timidness to the kiss that hadn’t been there before. She pulled away slightly.
“Hi,” she whispered.
And he suddenly knew why that kiss had been tentative. She was
shy.
He smiled, once again amazed by her contradictions. One minute bold and brazen, vulnerable and unsure the next.
“Hi,” he answered.
Gently, she took his hand and placed it over her heart. It thundered beneath his palm and, when she pressed her hand to his chest, he knew she could feel his doing the same.
Then her fingers moved. She undid his buttons and pushed the shirt from his shoulders. He shrugged it off, and when his hands returned to her, she guided them to her hips and fisted them in the material of her dress.
“Lift,” she said softly, and her hands disappeared. He did as she instructed, raising the dress over her head and tossing it aside. She pulled at the bottom of his T-shirt and he whipped it off.
The soft fabric of her bra brushed against his chest, her bare midriff against his torso. And although they’d stood in the river this way, there was something inherently different this time. This time, he knew it wasn’t plain desire he felt. This time, what he wanted most was a connection with her like nobody had ever made with her before. This wasn’t about sex. This was about making love. And despite his lack of firsthand experience, he damn well knew the difference. Listening to those romance books had taught him a lot about what women liked, but most of all, they’d taught him about making love.
When that niggling voice of guilt whispered to him, urging him to tell her the truth, he pushed it aside. To hell with it. The way he felt about her wasn’t a lie. He’d never known anything more honest in his life.
Her hands disappeared again and the fabric of her bra crumpled against his skin, and then it was gone, replaced by her soft breasts, her hard nipples.
A groan rumbled from his chest as he took them both gently in his hands and kissed her. A moment later, her knuckles brushed against his stomach and his belt loosened. Her fingers trembled as she undid his button and fly, and let his pants fall to the floor. Her arms grazed his hips and clasped at the small of his back.
She didn’t seem to want to break the contact of their bodies, so he took the initiative and released her breasts. Circling his hands around her, he swept them up her bare back, then down until his thumbs hooked her underwear and dragged them from her hips. She wriggled slightly against him until they dropped away.