Legendary Lover

by Roszel, Renee

  She nodded at nothing in particular.

  “Have a seat,” he called.

  Dropping obediently onto a diminutive beige leather sofa that faced the companionway, she chewed on a fingernail. He thought she looked nice in white? She glanced down at herself and pulled the neck of the robe more closely around her. It was too big and tended to gape open. Good Lord, had it been gaping open when…?

  She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. Surely not. Working at getting her mind on something else, she looked around her. A fold-down shelf across from her held a compact stereo system and a small television set. There was a beige leather easy chair on her left and a small cocktail table, with a bowl of real fruit, directly in front of her. She debated between eating an apple or putting on some music.

  Music won. She needed calming more than she needed nourishment. She got up and went to the stereo to browse through a stack of compact disks. She found one that suited her purpose and put it in the CD player. After a few seconds, the soulful voice of Smokey Robinson singing something about sleepless nights filled the cabin. The boat was rolling, but not alarmingly. Over the music, Tess could hear the rain. Or was it hailing again? Whichever, the storm outside had cast the cabin in semidarkness.

  “You’re a Smokey Robinson fan?”

  “Yes. His music is quite restful.”

  He chuckled. “If you say so.” There was a wicked note to his rejoinder that seemed to say he had put Smokey’s music to more energetic uses.

  She cringed, not wanting to think about it. Having no intention of pursuing that line of conversation, she changed the subject. “Mind if I turn on a light?”

  Something plopped on the couch next to her, as Cord called, “For cold feet.”

  She eyed the balled tennis socks with suspicion. Exactly how had he meant that? She called back, “I presume that’s a yes.”

  He laughed outright. “Turn on anything you want.”

  “Thanks…” She rolled her eyes heavenward. Either he was totally depraved or she was losing her mind, reading innuendos into his every word! “The light will do,” she quipped, almost light-heartedly. Pulling on the socks, she curled her feet beneath her. A lamp attached to the wall flickered on at her touch.

  “Better?”

  “Cozy.” She leaned her head back to rest it on the partition between the salon and the dinette. “It’s like being rocked in a cradle.”

  “Sorry I can’t offer you a roaring fire.”

  Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. She felt oddly at home. “I don’t think I could stand it,” she murmured too softly to carry all the way back to him.

  “I know what you mean,” he remarked equally quietly, sounding so near that she jumped. “There’s something special about being on a boat.”

  “Oh!” She touched her robe lapel nervously. “You didn’t make a sound walking out here.”

  “It’s the Indian in me. How about a little dinner?”

  He was leaning on the bulkhead, grinning down at her, wearing the other white robe. His, however, was opened to the waist, showing a fetching expanse of bronze chest. A mat of golden hair caught and reflected the light from the lamp.

  The robe was much shorter on him, exposing more than a hint of thigh. It should have been a capital crime to hide those legs, she mused. They were solid and gloriously male. Formidable quadriceps bulged above his knees, speaking of power and strength. His calves curled out wide and hard above well-shaped ankles. Tess had never thought of a man’s ankles as sexy before. But looking at his, she couldn’t fathom why not. She realized that he was talking and snapped her gaze back up to his face. “What?”

  He took a step into the cramped little sitting room, which seemed even more cramped with his towering presence. “I asked what you’d like for dinner. It looks as though we’ll be stuck here for a while.”

  A flash of lightning and an answering blast of thunder seemed to underscore his words. Wind battered hail against the hull of the boat as Smokey, in his dusky, jazz-clarinet voice began to urge someone to fulfill a need. She tried to brush aside the fact that the same idea had occurred to her the instant Cord had appeared in that white come-up-and-rip-this-off-me outfit. She nodded absently. “Yes—yes, food would be a good—” she had been about to say a good substitute; she decided against it; he would probably just ask a substitute for what “—would be good. Anything’s good.”

  “I’m not sure my cooking deserves three ‘goods,’ but it’ll be nourishing.”

  “While you do that, I’ll hang the clothes.”

  “No thanks. Just relax.” He flashed a splendid smile. “Let me not need you this afternoon, Tessa Jane.”

  There was something about the way he said her full name that made it sound like a caress. Trying to appear less touched than she was, she remarked, “‘Not need’ me? That’s very romantic.”

  “Do you want romance?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she denied quickly. If she’d been the type to blush, she’d have been crimson. “It was a joke. What I meant was, I couldn’t let you wait on me hand and foot.”

  “Force yourself.” He surprised her by tracing a finger along her cheek. “Consider it my way of repaying you for getting you into all this.”

  The touch had been brief, but its effect was not. Her skin registered warmth long after he’d removed his hand to his robe pocket. She noticed that he balled his fist once the hand was out of sight. She wondered why.

  Her gaze drifted to his face. His eyes were slightly narrowed, and his crooked mouth had lost much of its amused twist. She got the decided impression that he was suddenly irritated about something. “Dinner will be about fifteen minutes,” he told her, turning away.

  She was confused. Had she seen annoyance in his eyes? She wanted to know what was wrong. “Cord?”

  He glanced back, waiting for her to go on.

  She chickened out, deciding it would be safer to keep their relationship as superficial as possible. She improvised. “Do—do you have a brush I could borrow?”

  “Sure.” He indicated the door beside the companionway. “In the head.”

  “The head?”

  That slow, beguiling grin was back when he said, “Take a guess.”

  TESS MOVED HER TRAY to the coffee table and stretched. “That was good, Cord. Thank you.”

  He was sitting in the chair that stood at an angle to the sofa. Lowering his coffee cup, he smiled over at her. “My mother always said nobody could open a can of stew like her baby boy.”

  Tess felt like giggling, but she restrained herself. “I can’t picture you as anybody’s baby boy.”

  He gave her a mock affronted look. “I’ll have you know I was voted Broken Arrow’s ‘Baby Chubby Cheeks’ when I was eight months old.”

  “Oh, really?” Unable to help herself, she asked, “Which set of cheeks made you famous?”

  He chuckled and set his cup on the coffee table. “Let me put it this way. In the photo that won, I was facedown on a bearskin rug.”

  Laughter gurgled from Tess’s throat. “I’d like to see that picture.”

  He sat back, stretching out his long legs between the coffee table and her sofa. Something in her stomach fluttered at the way the ripcord muscles flexed with the movement. His deep chuckle drew her attention. “You never will. I ate it when I was twelve.”

  “You what?” she asked, incredulous.

  “My mother was about to show it to my best girl.”

  Tess couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer, picturing this handsome, charismatic man, at the tender age of twelve, eating a photograph to save face. How absurdly sweet. She asked, “Did it surprise the girl?”

  He looked a little sheepish. “It scared her to death. She grabbed the photo album she’d brought over and ran out of the house. I guess she thought I was going to eat her pictures, too.”

  “I gather the romance cooled.”

  “Like an Antarctic winter.” His short laugh was almost wistful. “I was brokenhearted
for a week.”

  “I’ll bet. How was it?”

  His expression grew curious. “The broken heart?”

  She blanched, feeling a stab of old pain. She knew how a broken heart felt. Trying to hide her unease, she said, “No—the photograph.”

  “Oh.” He shrugged. “Considering the alternative, it was ambrosia.”

  Lightning flashed, searing the room white, and a gust of wind riveted the hull with rain.

  Being reminded of how much Cord’s rejection thirteen years ago had hurt her took the fun out of their conversation. “Quite a storm,” she murmured.

  He’d grown serious, too, frowning slightly. “Yes. Strange.”

  “What do you mean?” She sat forward, alert. Was there danger she didn’t know about?

  He exhaled. “Nothing I can put my finger on. It was just that crazy jarring when we were in the dinghy. It seemed like we were being rammed by a log.” He shrugged. “But there wasn’t a log.”

  Tess uncoiled her feet, placing them on the floor very near his. “I’m no help. I’ve never been adrift in a dinghy.”

  He smiled without humor. “I try not to make a habit of it, either.” He got up to remove their trays to the kitchen. “Want more coffee?”

  “No thanks.” Not satisfied to lay the subject aside, she followed him into the kitchen. “What, exactly, is bothering you about the jarring business?”

  He set the trays down on the galley counter and turned to face her. “Nothing. It’s just that we were very lucky out there. Almost too lucky.”

  She frowned up at him. “What do you mean, ‘too lucky’?”

  “Who knows?” He passed her a wry smile. “Maybe somebody down there likes you.”

  She blinked in surprise at his remark. “You mean Champ? Are you saying Champ saved us?”

  He shook his head and chuckled. “Not a chance. It was probably just a freak combination of wave and wind action. Fortunately we were washed directly toward the boat.”

  “Probably waves and wind?” she repeated, her smile challenging.

  His eyes took on a sparkle of amusement. “Be quiet, dreamer. Go in and watch an old movie or something. I have dishes to do.”

  “You’re not still on that not-needing-me kick, are you?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve had all the not needing you need.”

  She grinned in spite of herself. He exuded such a boyish charm. “You’re crazy if you believe you can satisfy a lifetime of needing to be not needed in one afternoon. I just don’t think you need to do all the not needing, that’s all.”

  His grin grew bemused. “Say again?”

  There wasn’t much room between the counter and the dinette table. The rocking cruiser swayed them into thigh-to-thigh contact more than once. She was finding it hard to concentrate on any conversation, especially one that had taken such a nonsensical turn.

  They brushed again. She wondered if he was feeling the same worrisome degree of discomfort as she.

  He shifted, clearing his throat. “Go on. Get out of here.”

  She looked into his eyes, searching them in the dim light. Though he’d said he wanted her to go, she saw a completely different request in his gaze.

  “Okay, I’ll go….” she murmured, and she meant to go, she really did. She didn’t mean for her arms to move up and wrap themselves around his neck. She didn’t mean to stretch up on tiptoe and tilt her head at just the right angle to be kissed. And she definitely had no plans for her lips to move in a husky, taunting whisper, “Am I gone yet?”

  She pressed against him and saw the barest widening of his eyes. He was surprised—not shocked but taken off guard. Unsure what to do next, she could only smile tentatively, in wordless invitation.

  For what seemed a long time he stared at her, looking as though he were battling some private war. At last he asked, “Are you sure about this?”

  “Very sure.” Her voice was breathy. “I’m a big girl now. Or haven’t you noticed?”

  “Hellfire, woman,” he muttered. “I’ve done damn little else….” Hauling her into a hard embrace he buried his face in her hair, kissing the softness, his hands moving, searching, arousing. “Tessa Jane…” He lowered his mouth to hers, fulfilling every fantasy about how a kiss should feel, should taste.

  She reveled in the glory of it, her tongue dancing and thrusting with his until their breathing became ragged with desire. Just when she thought she could no longer stand, she felt herself being lifted into his arms.

  “I’m going to make love to you,” he told her softly.

  “I know. But I had to throw myself at you again.” She smiled, nuzzling his chest, licking and nipping. For some absurd reason she had to ask, “Does this playing-hard-to-get ploy work every time?”

  He kissed her forehead. “I was just about to ask you the same question.” He carried her to the forward cabin, lowered her to sit on the vee berth and knelt before her. Looking up into her eyes, he undid the sash of her robe, parting the fabric until he could enjoy the sight of her naked beauty.

  He slid his hands around her waist, making her gasp with delight as he leaned forward to kiss and nibble her belly. The slight roughness of his stubbled jaw sent a thrill through her, and she cradled his head within her arms.

  His kisses moved down, and Tess closed her eyes in shuddering victory as he found her damp, restive core. She whimpered his name as he began to flick his tongue over her, suddenly frightened at the degree of intimacy he had so quickly led her to.

  His response was reassuring and typically male; there was no retreat. He slid his hands down her back and cupped her buttocks, pulling her even more deliciously close. He kissed and sucked and pleased her so well that she could do little more than lie back and accept his gift as it was offered—hot yet unhurried.

  She curled her hands in the sheets as divine tension built in her like flood waters behind a weakening dam. At last, with a kiss so deeply intimate that her body could no longer deny her ultimate gratification, Cord brought her over the brink to the most delectable sensations she had ever experienced. Surge after surge of voluptuous pleasure washed through her body, her whole being quaking with ecstasy.

  A sob escaped her throat. She had never been given such a selfless, beautiful gift as this. Cord’s first thought, his first passionate act had been to please her. How many times in her life had anyone cared even half as much about making her happy?

  He had eased up beside her and was nipping at her shoulder where the robe had fallen away. She stroked his cheek gently, offering in a weak voice, “You didn’t have to do that.”

  He paused for a second, then planted a very definite kiss on the tender skin of her throat before looking into her eyes. He sobered when he saw her tears. “Tessa Jane,” he murmured, pulling her to him, her breasts molded lovingly against his chest. “You give so damned much. You’ve got to learn to take.”

  He kissed each tear-stained cheek, whispering, “I won’t be long.” He rolled away and in a few strides had disappeared into the head. After a minute, when her mind became somewhat less muddled, she realized he’d gone to put on protection. She’d been in such a wild state of passion, she’d forgotten all about taking precautions.

  Turning on her side, she closed her eyes. Thunder exploded above her and rain pelted the hull. A faint smile curved her lips. Never in her life had she known such pure happiness. Cord Redigo might be very wrong for her in the long run, but in a few moments he would be back to wrap her in his arms, to thrill her as most women only dream of being thrilled. Perhaps later she would feel differently about all this, but right now she had no desire to be anywhere else on earth.

  She heard a movement and opened her eyes to see Cord heading toward her, boldly, divinely naked. His blond hair was passion-tossed, his eyes glistening with soft promises. Her gaze moved to that part of him that was erect, primed for her and a shiver of giddy anticipation ran the entire length of her body.

  When he was again beside her, taking her into his arms, s
he sighed languidly, feeling no regrets.

  He caressed her back and then the rounded softness of her buttocks, turning her to look in his eyes. Very tenderly, he whispered, “You’re a lovely woman, Tessa Jane.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I was in a lot of pain when I thought you hated me.”

  She smiled wanly, taking his face in her hands. “So was I, Cord.” Sliding her arms around his neck, she lifted taut nipples toward his chest, teasing his flesh. “Now I see I never hated you. I was just afraid of being hurt again.”

  He groaned and pulled her to him, his lips brushing hers as he whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you. I never did.”

  “I know.”

  They kissed deeply. She drew closer, wanting to know every inch of his body against hers.

  Sensing her growing urgency, Cord pressed her hips to his groin. The hard length of him against her made her damp with hunger, and she moaned against his lips.

  Sliding a hand down the back of her leg, he gently lifted her knee over his hip, adjusting himself against her. Shifting his hands to her bottom, he pressed against the place where she was most sensitive.

  She sighed and pulled from his kiss to look into his eyes. They were closed, but as soon as she had drawn away, the long, light lashes flicked open. When he saw her looking at him, he smiled, and with a cunning move of his hips, made her gasp with delight again.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice weak with pleasure.

  “Teaching you to take.” Stroking her hip, he added softly, “Relax and enjoy the lesson.”

  With that, he thrust more deeply, but not completely into her. She moaned with the rush of erotic delight and closed her eyes. “Teach me,” she pleaded softly.

  At first his thrusts were slow, exotic torture, driving her almost mad with every exquisite plunge. Then, when her nails had begun to bite into his muscled back, he pressed her down on her back and blanketed her, becoming the carnal center of her universe.

  Cord stole from her every vestige of timidity, and she took the pleasures he had to give with gusto. She cried out her delight, wrapping her legs about his hips to hold him prisoner within her. Joined as they were, she became a wild, free creature, at long last truly alive in his arms.