by Ann Major
Violets, she’d said. Feeling a loss he didn’t understand, he picked up one of the books on the couch and threw it so hard, it smashed a lamp to bits.
He should never have left her alone, but his conscience had forced him to give her one last chance to run. He hadn’t wanted her here if she didn’t want to be here. What a sap he was.
He flung his front door open and stared out into the dark, empty hall.
“Sally?” His hoarse voice sounded way too needy.
He was stomping back to his bedroom to find a pair of jogging shorts when he heard a little cry from the kitchen. Golden hair flying, she came running through that door, holding a photograph she’d taken off his fridge as well as his book on Greek gods. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”
“You’re still here,” he whispered in amazement. He flushed as he remembered the lamp. “You’re really here?”
“Of course, darlin’,” she mocked, smiling impishly as she drew a lock of her hair back to expose an elfin ear.
“For God’s sake, don’t tease me now.”
“Are you all right?”
“I knocked a lamp over…by accident.”
“Did you cut yourself?”
“No.”
“So, you’re a reader? A philosopher even? Plato? Homer?”
“The ancient Greeks are pretty amazing,” he said.
“I didn’t know cowboys read.”
“I’m the smart triplet, remember?”
“I’m impressed.”
He moved toward her and seized her in his arms, kissing her mouth, then her throat, and then her breasts with a madness and a hunger he had never felt before. The thought that he’d nearly lost her inflamed his senses. Every kiss was a raw act of possession. His desire for her was beyond reason. Not that he wanted to think about it.
“I thought you were gone,” he murmured.
“I thought about it…maybe just a little,” she admitted. “It’s what I should do.”
“Do you always do what you should?”
“For a long time I have.” She hesitated, stroking his wet hair. “That was sweet of you to let me think about it. I like that. I like it a lot. I also like it that you’re into the ancient Greeks. I don’t just want you. I think I like you, too.”
“I don’t think. I know I like you. Just like I know you’re wrestling with something difficult. That’s why I wanted to give you a chance to split. I don’t want you to do this if—”
“Now you’re the one who’s thinking too much, cowboy.”
Before his next heartbeat, she set down the picture—the one of him and his triplet brothers stomping grapes that summer they’d gone backpacking in Europe and he’d discovered Greece—on a table along with his book and began tracing his body with her fingertips, letting them run lightly down his abdomen to his navel and then lower until he was on fire for her to pleasure him.
She smelled so damned sweet. Violets.
He groaned when her fingers slipped inside his towel and caressed his naked skin. Then she unknotted the towel, and terry cloth swished down his legs and pooled on the floor. She knelt and placed her hands on the back of his bare legs. Heat shot through him when her lips neared his thighs. He felt her warm breath first, then her tongue. She licked him before her mouth took him whole.
He gasped even before she began moving her head.
She knew a lot. Too much. More than he wanted her to.
Definitely, she was no virgin. But then what had he expected from a single girl in revealing black spandex that cupped her breasts and butt? Hell, she’d had the first letter of some guy’s name tattooed above her heart. If she were smart, she’d never tell him that story. He’d be tempted to hunt the guy down and punch him if he ever found out who he was.
Even as he tried to tell himself she was hot and wild and perfect for a one-night stand, the thought of bedding her and never seeing her again aroused some fierce, irrational possessiveness inside him. Swiftly he pressed her head more tightly against his groin. His feelings hacked at him like a dull machete, making a thousand little cuts that all bled for her. He couldn’t bear to think of her with other men.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he muttered thickly.
She jumped back and stood up. She couldn’t possibly read his expression in the darkness since the only light came from the kitchen behind him.
“Do you?” he demanded in a low, harsh tone.
“No!” Her voice was indignant, furious even.
He was equally furious. “Well, you do now.”
“You think you and I— No. I can’t date you. And I can’t explain why I can’t, either, so don’t ask. But it’s not because I’m dating anyone else.”
“I don’t know what came over me,” he muttered. And he didn’t. “It’s just that you make me feel things… I’m not accustomed to feeling at this stage in a…relationship.”
“We can’t have a relationship.” Her wide-open eyes met his equally stunned gaze. “But me, too,” she admitted in a low voice that was a shade shy of a whisper. Her thin face, which was framed with wild golden hair, was white.
Hell. He’d scared her again with his attack of macho possessiveness.
“Darlin’, darlin’, it’s okay.”
She touched his cheek, traced the line of his mouth with a fingertip. Then her soft hand moved lovingly down his throat.
“What is it about you, huh?” he asked. Then to his surprise, he saw tears in her eyes.
“You’re crying. Why?”
She touched her lashes and then her wet cheeks. “Oh, my. I am. I really am. I…I can’t believe it. I haven’t cried in… I can’t believe it. I’m crying.” She began to laugh a bit hysterically.
“What’s wrong? What did I say?”
She clung to him and then laid her golden head against his heart where his pulse pounded so violently. “Just hold me. Just hold me.” Her voice was low and choked. “Hold me until I’m myself again.”
Her whole body began to shake. Hell, she was really going to cry. He hated tears. Most of all he hated himself for making her cry.
“Oh, Steve, I…I’ve wanted to cry for so long, and I just couldn’t.” Her words came out in fits and starts. “The pain was just too much.”
“There, there,” he murmured as she wept endlessly, her body racked with sobs. His chest was wet with the flood of tears as she continued to weep. “It’s okay,” he said, ruffling her hair and stroking her back.
His words seemed to make her cry harder.
“You don’t understand. It’ll never be okay.”
“Short of murder, nothin’s that bad.”
“Murder,” she sobbed, crying all the harder.
After that he said nothing until she quieted. Then he became aware of her body against his, aware that he was naked and that it wouldn’t take much to pull her blouse and skirt off and get her naked, too.
He knew he should be noble and resist her when she pressed closer, seeking a different kind of comfort from him. But when she started kissing him on the chest and sucking at his nipples, he lowered his head to hers and kissed her hard on the mouth, his intentions clear. Without giving her a chance to change her mind, he pulled her blouse to her waist and ripped her skirt to her knees, which left her wearing her black lacy panties and her cowboy boots.
“No bra?” he murmured.
“Shelf bra.”
Whatever that was.
“I’ll take off the boots,” she said.
“Leave them on,” he whispered, tugging off her panties.
“Kinky.”
“Not really.” His hands began to roam her body freely. She was hot, lush satin and wet there. He kissed her again, rotating his hips against hers, forcing her to feel his erection as his lips and tongue caressed her everywhere. In no time her nipples were as hard as pebbles.
Then he picked her up and carried her to the closest wall. Pushing her against it, he wrapped her booted legs around his waist and was about to plunge inside her when she said, “No!”
>
“What?”
“We’re forgetting…” She was too breathless to go on.
“What?”
“Condoms!”
“Right. Damn.”
“Don’t go anywhere,” he whispered against her hair. “Don’t you dare go anywhere.”
She laughed and spread his towel on the floor and lay down on it while he raced around the hotel suite like a madman.
In two seconds he was back on the floor beside her, fumbling with the damn wrapper. Then he had it on, and he was inside her, where he belonged.
She was tight and hot…so hot.
He groaned. She pulled him closer with a gentle sigh. He kissed each darling ear.
Then he began to pump as she held on to him fiercely. She felt too good, because it was over in seconds, at least for him. Afterward as he held her, shame licked through him, even though it had felt wonderful. When he could breathe normally again, his eyes connected with hers through the darkness.
“Sorry,” he muttered raggedly, touching his perspiring forehead to hers. “I…I don’t know what happened. I’ve never…lost control like that before.”
She stroked his cheek silently. “It was great.”
“Next time….”
“Don’t apologize. I loved being with you.” She continued to trace the line of his jaw with the back of her hands with such tenderness his heart ached. What was it about her that made him feel so much so intensely so fast? They’d just had sex. He barely knew her, and he never wanted to let her go.
He grabbed her hand and wove his fingers through hers. “Sally,” he murmured. “Sally.” Then he kissed her fingers, one by one.
When he led her into the bedroom, he knelt on the floor while she sat on the bed. Together they removed her boots. Then he ripped off the spread and pulled back the covers, and they got into his bed, snuggling closer and closer until their bodies fit perfectly and they were spooning. Inside her or outside her, no woman had ever felt so right.
She began to caress him, and soon her featherlight fingertips tracing the length of his spine had him buzzing. When he reached for her, she pushed his arms gently down on the sheets.
“My turn. I…I want to be in control this time. It’s very important to me.”
He gazed at her across his pillow. Again he was aware of those ghosts haunting her.
“All right. Since you took off your boots.”
She smiled. Then she began stroking the tip of his erection with her hand until he jumped every time she touched him, until he felt spirals of ever-hotter fire radiating throughout his body. Soon he was breathing hard and could think of nothing but burying himself inside her. Still those silky, warm fingers kept making those slow, erotic circles.
More than anything he wanted to grab her hand, to force her to squeeze him harder, to rush her.
But he didn’t. Aw, hell. He thought surely he would die a thousand little deaths before she finally kissed him on the mouth and opened her lips. When finally she climbed on top of him and straddled him, he tore another plastic package open—as a tiny hint. When she took the condom from him and put it on him, it was all he could do not to lose control.
She laughed at his throaty moan and pushed her bottom down on top of him. Again she was tight and soft and warm and a perfect fit. When he started to pump, she splayed her hands against his chest and whispered, “No! My turn…”
He groaned.
“You promised.”
“I’m dying here, darlin’.”
“Oh no, you’re not. You’re very very much alive.”
Then she began sliding slowly up and down on top of him, bouncing rhythmically, her own rhythm though, not his, and not quite at the speed he longed for, either.
Still, it was great. He liked her long golden hair brushing his throat and shoulders. He liked the way she was crooning to herself and the way she seemed to be enjoying herself so much she stretched these moments of ecstasy into a long, feverish, almost unendurable and yet ever-so-delicious agony for them both.
Finally the building pressure inside him was so fierce he had to close his eyes, clench his teeth and knot the sheets with his fists to wait for her. Somehow, and just barely, he hung on even when the desire for release lit every nerve in his male being. He felt like a bomb one instant before it detonated. She made second after second tick by—pulse beats of delicious wanting, wanting, wanting this gorgeous woman with an intensity that he’d never known before.
When the explosion came, it was mutual. She screamed and clung, and he damn sure embarrassed himself by doing the same.
Afterward, when she continued to clutch him, crying softly against his chest, he felt big and manly—protective. When their bodies cooled and he’d kissed away her tears, he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go. For a long time while she slept, he held her, staring at the ceiling.
Something cataclysmic had just happened in his life. Never before had he felt so utterly completed by a woman. Not even by Madison.
Not even close.
A great tenderness for the woman in his arms welled inside him. He knew without a trace of doubt that Sally was the one. Which was hellishly scary because he didn’t even know her.
Damn it. He had sworn he would never trust his heart to a woman unworthy of it again. And here he was, in the grip of something way stronger than he should be with a virtual stranger. That was the trouble with life and with people. You thought you were in control. Wrong. You could be in deep water with the first awkward step in a relationship, and suddenly your life wasn’t yours anymore.
In the morning he would start trying to win her trust. He had to find out why she’d cried and why that was a big deal. Even though he knew better than to try to rescue another person, what choice did he have?
He was in too deep. He couldn’t fail with her as he had with Madison. He simply couldn’t. Too much was at stake.
Snuggling closer into her sweet-smelling warmth, he knew he wanted to hold Sally like this every night for the rest of his life. He nuzzled the nape of her neck with his lips, and the mere softness of her skin stirred him. If he lost her, she’d take a real piece of him with her.
She was the one woman for him.
Yet somehow he knew—hell, he was the smart triplet, wasn’t he?—that she spelled trouble.
When Amy awoke, naked, her long limbs tangled in Steve’s, the icy bedroom was dark except for the gray edges of light around the tall, rectangular windows. Her breathing was slow and measured, relaxed. Her body was filled with indescribable warmth. For a long moment she lay there in a state of utter contentment. As her hands moved across the sheets, she realized she’d never known such a profound sense of tranquillity. Then her hand brushed a warm, muscular arm, and she realized where she was and whose arms wrapped her. For a long moment she let herself sink into the tranquil bliss of just being with him, and in those brief seconds before her brain took over, she felt like a flower blossoming in a paradise that was eternal spring.
Then logic kicked in. It was morning. She had a job, and she’d probably overslept. There were probably a dozen messages on her cell phone and more on her office voice mail. She had calls to make, caterers to meet, hoteliers to woo, budgets to fine tune, and her major client to suck up to.
Her next breath was quick and shallow.
“Steve. Oh, my God.”
Her temple pounded painfully. She had an awful headache. The soft tissues between her legs ached, too. He was big and he’d been an enthusiastic lover. She was sore down there, which meant she’d think of him all day.
Even now she wanted to forget about her cell phone messages. She wanted to stroke his hair, to kiss his throat and his mouth, to kiss him awake and then make love to him for hours.
Frowning, she forced herself to focus on her early meeting with her favorite caterer. Last thing yesterday her number-one client had told her he never wanted to use the caterer again. Amy still didn’t know how she was going to explain. Also, sometime today she had to ca
ll her mother. But first she had to get out of here without waking Steve up. He made her feel things and want things. That terrified her.
Still, for another endless moment she lingered in his warm embrace and felt sad that she had to leave him. He was sweet. He’d been incredible in bed, too. So incredible she wished her life were different…she wished she were different.
She wished she deserved him. She wished she was the kind of person who didn’t disappoint those she loved most.
Careful not to awaken him, she shifted a little.
Oh my, she was sore. Gingerly, inch by painful inch, she scooted her tender body away from his.
She grabbed her boots on the way to the living room where she found her panties, skirt and blouse. Quickly she dressed. She’d only managed to pull one boot on, when she heard something crash in the bedroom.
Another lamp? Was he coming after her like a big bear on the rampage the way he had last night?
“Sally!” His voice was a roar.
With a smothered little cry, Amy grabbed her other boot and purse and ran. On her way out the door, the boot caught on the doorknob and went flying back into his living room.
The bedroom door slammed open and he yelled for somebody named Sally again.
Sally? Who was Sally, Amy wondered as she quickened her step.
Then she remembered that she’d told him her name was Sally.
That was good. At least he would never be able to find her or tempt her again.
Five
Steve woke up with a queasy feeling in his stomach and knew something was vitally wrong. No longer did he feel the silken coils of his lover’s golden hair caressing his shoulder. No longer did he inhale the sweetness of violets with every breath. No longer did her soft, sweet arms wrap him.
He sprang into a sitting position and instantly regretted it.
She was gone.
Gray rectangles of light spun sickeningly, causing his empty stomach to roil. Last night he hadn’t eaten, preferring beer to the pizza he’d ordered. Now his eyelids burned and his brain felt foggy. Still, when he heard his front door close, his heart leaped. He hurled himself out of bed. Dragging a sheet, he stumbled into the living room, shouting her name.