by Alison Kelly
Ryan swore and lunged across her, trapping her wrist in a firm grip.
‘Um, I’m not sure,’ she said hesitantly, ‘but I think you’ll have to get up again so I can put it on.’
‘The hell you will!’
Taking the condom from her now suspiciously pliant hand, Ryan eased back and commenced sheathing himself, the knowledge that she watched his every movement as arousing as it was unnerving. When he raised his head from the completed task, it was easy to see that Kirrily too had found watching him pleasurable.
‘I thought that was how they worked,’ she said, pure devilment dancing in her emerald eyes. ‘But I guess you thought I’d do it wrong, huh?’
‘Yeah,’ he growled, pushing her onto her back. ‘So wrong you’d be named one of the ten most potent causes of premature ejaculation!’
The laughter his comment provoked died the moment his hand parted her thighs. For Ryan the glazed pleasure in her eyes as he checked her readiness was as erotic as her body’s slick eagerness. Awash with emotions stronger than any he’d ever experienced, he stroked her in time with his rapidly beating heart.
Even in the indirect light from the en suite bathroom, her beauty was radiant enough to steal his breath. He looked at the long, silky darkness of her hair against the mattress and wanted to cocoon himself in it. He looked at her slightly parted mouth and tasted its sweetness in his own. On a groan he lowered himself over her body, intending only to possess again that sweet, tempting mouth, but he saw his soul in her desire-clouded eyes and in that instant he was both lost…and found.
Kirrily’s heart and hips lurched as one in a connection that was as spiritual as it was physical, and it was a tossup whether the rightness of what she was feeling would show itself as laughter or tears.
‘Don’t close your eyes,’ Ryan urged, his face mirroring her own awe.
‘I won’t,’ she promised, her vision blurring as she met his intense blue gaze. ‘Oh…Ryan, it’s…’ She snatched an unsteady breath. ‘It’s so…’ Clutching his shoulders, she rose to meeting his slow-building thrusts.
‘So…what?’ he asked, his tongue catching an errant tear.
With desire, passion and love swamping her from all directions, Kirrily struggled to find the right words. She shook her head, more bemused than frustrated. ‘It’s…it’s…’
‘What?’ he repeated, his fingers interlocking with hers, his face showing the pleasurable strain that she too was feeling.
‘It’s…’ She was fighting to keep her eyes open against the intense sensations bombarding her body and brain. ‘Oh!’ she gasped as her body bucked. ‘Oh…Ryan…Ry—’
‘Damn,’ he groaned, his body tensing, yet his gaze still locked on hers. ‘You feel so-o-o good! So…so right…’
Hot, emotional heat spiralled within her. ‘You belong,’ she gasped, her internal muscles gripping him as fiercely as her fingers did his shoulders. ‘Oh…yes! Yes! Ryan…’
‘Look at me!’ His breathy command forced her lashes up. ‘Watch…’ he said as their hips crashed against each other’s. ‘See…see what you…do to me…’
They erupted together in an explosion so spectacular that Ryan continued to shake long after his release. For an endless time he was incapable of doing anything more than let his sweat-slick body remain over Kirrily’s. When it dawned on him that he was probably crushing her, he immediately eased himself onto his back and drew her against him, too spent to do anything more than hold her warmth to him.
Snuggling closer to the damp, naked male body, Kirrily closed her eyes and tried to survive on what little oxygen her lungs could draw from the passion-drenched air. She’d heard it said that the French called orgasm ‘little death’; she well understood why. A shiver hit her as the winter chill gained ascendency over her slowly cooling internal heat.
‘Cold?’ Ryan asked.
‘Actually I think it’s shock,’ she said, nuzzling closer to his solid male warmth as he settled the duvet over them. ‘I never imagined anything could be so…so powerful, so…I don’t know…cosmic.’ She angled her head more comfortably in the curve of his arm so she could see his face. ‘I guess this is why the term “better than sex” was originated, huh?’
His expression seemed to absorb her. ‘Yeah,’ he said, touching a lazy finger against her lower lip. ‘I’d say that’s possibly how the term was born.’
‘Only possibly?’
‘Mmm, unlike you, K.C., I’ve never been one to jump to hasty conclusions and—’ pressure from his finger across her mouth stopped her from voicing an objection to the accusation ‘—based on such limited research, I’m reluctant to firmly commit myself to an answer one way or the other.’
‘Ah,’ she said, forcing down a grin. ‘So how much research do you think it would require for you to…you know, commit yourself?’
‘Hard to say; scientists have been known to research a subject for years and years.’
Ryan’s tone might have been casual, but the look in his eyes was as carnal as the way his finger moved down her neck to rest at the base of her throat.
‘Beautiful,’ he muttered, replacing the finger with his lips. ‘Bone-achingly beautiful.’
He’d only kissed her throat, yet somehow every nerve-ending in her body was tingling.
‘Tell me, Kirrily,’ he said huskily, his hands playing over her shoulders. ‘You ever been interested in being a research assistant?’
She shook her head, struggling with the excitement he was activating within her as he drew a slow finger between the valley of her breasts.
‘Science was never my strong suit. Is it interesting?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ he said, watching her eyes. ‘Better than sex.’
She laughed. ‘In that case, Professor, I’m all yours…’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WITH Ryan’s breath soft at her neck, his chest warm against her back and his lower body spooned firmly around her own, Kirrily welcomed the intrusion of the morning’s sun with a blissful sigh. The male hand pressed to her abdomen slid from there to tease the underside of her breast
‘Mmm,’ she purred, nuzzling closer.
‘Mmm, what?’
‘Mmm, more,’ she responded, her body wakening more quickly than her brain.
‘More what?’ The question was as teasing as his touch.
She sighed, rolling onto her back. Opening her eyes, she stroked a fascinated finger along his bristled jaw. ‘More everything,’ she said, loving the way desire darkened his eyes as he looked at her, but disappointed by his slowly shaking head.
‘It’s too soon,’ he told her gently. ‘You’ll be sore and I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘You’d never hurt me, Ryan.’ Her confidence was absolute, his answering smile pleased.
‘But you’re still sore,’ he insisted, his fingers weaving themselves through her hair.
‘Not that sore.’ She grinned. ‘Besides…’ Her knuckles skimmed the inside of his thigh. ‘I think you could produce the salve needed to cure me.’
One blonde eyebrow shot up. ‘You’re wanton, Kirrily Cosgrove.’
‘Wantin’ you, Ryan Talbot!’ she retorted.
With lightning-fast aggression, Ryan was pulled into a kiss he had no inclination to resist even had he been capable of it.
Kirrily—spirited, impulsive and utterly irresistible. He thought she tasted even sweeter in the early sunlight than she had only hours before, but it had to be the hangover of passion; for surely nothing could be more deliciously intoxicating than the eager, responsive sensuality which had flowed from her as he’d loved her.
Loved her.
Yes, he loved her. Admitting as much had been a battle, but he only had to be hit over the head by his heart a few million times for him to realise that denial of the truth was futile.
Reality: Ryan Talbot had fallen in love with Kirrily Cosgrove and nothing on earth, past or present, would alter that.
He deepened the kiss, as a defence against his overpoweri
ng need to say the words—to tell her. Just as he’d done a dozen times during their night of lovemaking. He didn’t want to frighten her or make her feel pressured. Didn’t want her inexperience and impulsiveness automatically to voice reciprocal feelings.
Ah, hell! Who was he trying to kid? He wasn’t being noble or considerate, he was being a coward! The thought that she wouldn’t respond with ‘I love you too’ chilled him to the core.
His sudden withdrawal startled Kirrily. ‘Ryan?’ she said hesitantly as he sat up. ‘What’s up?’
The sun streaming through the French windows made his tousled hair sparkle six shades of gold and his broad bare back glisten. Her action in touching that back, when he silently shook his head, was only marginally consolatory.
‘Ryan…tell me. What’s the matter?’
He weighed up the choice between fobbing her off and baring his soul only for as long as it took for her to place a soft, tender kiss on his shoulder.
‘This is probably going to scare you to death, but…’ He sucked in a do-or-die breath. ‘I’m in love with you.’
‘I know.’
Her matter-of-fact tone spun him around. ‘You know?’
She was fighting a smile and nodding. ‘Trevor Nichols told me.’
‘Trev…How…? What…?’
‘But I’m not scared,’ she continued over his incoherent stammering. ‘You might make me tremble, but not with fear.’ Rising to her knees, her nudity looking like sculptured perfection, she took his face between her hands and brushed her lips over his with angelic lightness. ‘I love you too,’ she whispered. ‘I fell in love with you so long ago, Ryan, I can’t even remember it happening.’
‘You’re in love with me?’ He hardly dared believe it.
‘Since before I was born.’
Groaning with relief, he collapsed them both back onto the mattress. As it had the night before, their lovemaking ran the gamut of emotions from passion to playfulness, their breathless sighs intermingled with lighthearted laughter, talking and teasing…
‘You knew I loved you because Trevor Nichols said so!’
‘Get over it, Ryan. He did us a favour.’
‘How’s that?’
Kirrily raised her head from her oral exploration of his belly and frowned at him. ‘Do you honestly think I’d have thrown myself at you that night in the hotel if I hadn’t known you loved me?’
‘Aha! So you’ll admit you came on to me that night?’
Her smirk was pure challenge. ‘Make me…’
For the next four days the unexpectedness and newness of having Ryan love her and be her lover kept Kirrily content; there was something deliciously exciting about being cloistered away in a huge rural house with nobody knowing their whereabouts.
Yet, much as she might have wished otherwise, they weren’t without the distractions of the outside world. Ryan had arranged for all calls to his home number to be automatically diverted to the Bowral house so both the police and the staff at Talbot’s could contact him readily. Although it seemed to her that it was Ryan who was initiating all the contact with both, with his calling first the police and then the office within fifteen minutes of getting up and both at least twice more during the day.
More and more she felt an edginess in him that she sensed had to do with more than the police’s clicéd responses such as, ‘The matter is still under investigation; there have been no further developments,’ or ‘We’ll advise you of any progress,’ and his concern about how the office was coping in his absence. On several occasions she’d caught him in silent, deep introspection, and though his distraction had vanished the moment he’d seen her Kirrily couldn’t help thinking his ready smiles were a tad too ready, too perfect, that he was trying to shield her from whatever was bothering him. She tried to tell herself she was imagining it, that, as he had finally recognised and accepted her as not just a woman but his lover, Ryan’s need to protect her was no longer an issue. But his reluctance to confide in her was again brought home on Friday.
They’d spent a carefree morning scouring the antiques shops in nearby Mittagong, and arrived home with a partially restored steamer chest, which Kirrily had convinced Ryan would make a brilliant coffee-table for the living room. Though initially doubtful, Ryan had finally agreed to the purchase, expressing surprise at Kirrily’s haggling skills.
‘I’m a skilled negotiator,’ she told him when they walked into the kitchen, dumping the fresh bread rolls and honeyed ham they’d brought home for lunch on the counter.
‘More like a con artist,’ he returned, tweaking her nose affectionately.
She slapped his hand away. ‘Half the fun of shopping for used furniture is the haggling.’
His hands went to her hips, drawing her nearer. ‘So what’s the other half?’
She grinned. ‘After today, I’d say watching you try not to look guilty after I get them to agree my price.’
He laughed. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
‘And you’re insatiable.’ But her complaint was halfhearted and she was already leaning towards his kiss. Her sigh at the sudden intrusion of the phone was heavy with disappointment
‘Hold that thought,’ Ryan muttered, releasing her after a too brief peck.
She did, but within moments she’d sussed out that the call was going to be a lengthy one and set about preparing lunch. Lost in her own thoughts about the cosmic perfection she’d discovered in Ryan’s arms, she was pulled back into reality by a loud string of explicit comments about architects with more creativity than common sense. Oblivious to her attention, Ryan slammed down the receiver, then raked both hands through his hair. Despite the accompanying colourful verbal tirade, the action spoke more of frustration than anger.
‘Problem at the office?’ she asked.
‘Huh? No. No, it’s nothing any halfway decent builder couldn’t deal with. Ron has it under control.’ The edge in his words was too sharp to be ignored.
‘But you feel it’s your responsibility and you should go to Sydney anyway.’
His gaze focused hard on her. ‘Talbot’s is my responsibility, K.C. The buck stops with me.’
At the lecturing tone of his voice she set the knife aside. ‘Why is it that whenever you slip into your Mr Responsibility mode I go back to being K.C.?’
‘Pardon?’
‘The first time we became lovers you called me Kirrily,’ she said. ‘I don’t even think you were aware of it. And now you call me that nearly all the time except when—’
‘When I call you honey or sweetheart or gorgeous…But I never call you babe.’ He grinned, moving around the breakfast bar and stalking towards her. ‘You hate guys calling you babe.’
His hands on her waist, he pulled her hips against his and nuzzled her neck. ‘You smell good.’
She sighed. ‘And you’re trying to distract me.’
‘Nah, I’m trying to get into your pants.’
Despite herself, she giggled. ‘Ryan, I’m trying to make lunch and have a conversation with you.’
‘Darn. And here I am trying to make time and have sex with you.’ He sighed heavily, his face serious. ‘OK, I give in…You were saying?’ His grin was sinful.
‘Forget it,’ she muttered. After all, she had…it was so damned hard to think with his hand slipping into her scanty knickers…
In the darkness of the early hours Ryan replaced the receiver on the bedside phone, grateful he’d been awake to answer it before it had woken Kirrily. Easing himself back onto the mattress, he stared at the ceiling. He’d grown up believing that falling in love made everything in a man’s life perfect, yet his own had become a bloody mess that was only going to get worse.
He’d always envisaged that he’d be totally honest about every aspect of his past if ever he fell in love, that he’d have no secrets from the woman he chose to share his future with and that with her love and understanding he would, in time, be able to forgive himself, if not forget Such idealistic expectations might have been feasible if
he’d fallen for anyone other than Kirrily Claire Cosgrove, but, because he hadn’t, the truth, be it told or concealed, could only be destructive to their love simply because of who Kirrily was and what he’d done.
Their love had no future.
‘Why?’ he whispered hoarsely, emotion again tearing him apart. ‘Why her?’ Turning his head, he glanced at her peaceful, sleeping face, helpless to prevent his knuckles brushing the softness of her cheek. ‘Why me? Hell, Kirrily, why pick me?’
After they’d made love tonight, she’d asked him where they went from here, and hadn’t been distracted by his teasing reply of, ‘Sleep’. So he’d mumbled something about it being better not to make emotional decisions while she was under threat from a maniac and reluctantly she’d admitted he was right. Then, after blessing him with another dose of her sweet, trusting passion and declarations of love, she’d drifted into a peaceful sleep while he lay awake battling with his own cowardice and the demons of his past.
Though he could almost excuse what they’d shared in the hotel in Melbourne as being lust-driven, allowing what had happened since had been a conscious decision. Not the decision of a clear conscience, but a purehearted one based on hope’s phantom whispers that love conquered all. That was the trouble with hope: it had a way of deafening you to the more experienced voice of reality. And the reality was that while he’d never told a lie to Kirrily their entire relationship was based on her ignorance of the truth.
He’d been living on borrowed time—no! Stolen time—because only he’d known that when it was safe for Kirrily to leave here what they’d shared would end. And it was safe now; the police had caught the man responsible.
Awaking alone and without the gentle loving that had greeted her every morning since they’d come to Bowral left Kirrily strangely unsettled. The concern etched on Ryan’s face when she found him in the kitchen didn’t lessen the sensation.
‘Ryan…?’ she said, puzzled to find him already showered and dressed when their only plans for the day had been to hang around the house. ‘What’s up? Why—?’