When she could bear no more of the sweet torment, she cried out his name. He came up to cover her writhing body with his own, and at last, after one brief sharp stab of pain, they were joined together completely in a union that carried her gradually to the pinnacle of ecstasy, over the edge, and with a burst of exquisite sensation, tumbled her shuddering over to the other side.
Finally spent, he collapsed against her with a groan of fulfilment. He lay on top of her for several moments as his harsh breathing quieted down. She could feel his pounding heart against her breast settle into a steadier, gentler rhythm, and she kissed the cheek that lay on the pillow next to her own.
'Gerry,' she whispered. 'That was beautiful.'
With a groan, he rolled off her and held her close. 'Did I hurt you, darling?' he murmured in her ear.
'Not really. I'm so glad and grateful that you were the first. You're a wonderful teacher.'
His hold on her tightened. 'That's because I love you so much,' he mumbled sleepily.
She felt his eyelashes flutter against her cheek. His hands relaxed, and she heard the steady even breathing that told her he was asleep. She curled herself into the contours of his body and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The instant Bianca awoke the next morning, she was immediately aware of the hard masculine body lying next to her and the smooth bare flesh under her hand. The memory of last night's lovemaking was still fresh in her mind, and with an apparent will of its own, her hand started moving downward over a flat stomach until another stronger hand clutched hers firmly and held it in place.
'You'd better not start something unless you're going to finish it,' came a deep husky voice.
She opened her eyes. Gerry was propped up against a pillow, his broad chest and shoulders bare, the black hair tousled, over his forehead. For a moment she could only stare up into the warm dark eyes, then, feeling suddenly shy, she tensed, pulled her hand away and turned her head towards the window, where the morning sunshine was streaming through.
His arms came around her from behind then, pulling her up against him. 'Hey, I wasn't objecting,' came his low voice in her ear.
She felt the warm breath in her hair, on her cheek, and she relaxed back into the body curved around her own. They lay there quite still for several moments, their hearts beating as one. His hands were resting possessively on her breasts and without moving her head, she glanced down at them. Something about the sight of those large brown hands curled around the white flesh made her catch her breath in a near sob of joy.
As though attuned to every nuance of her inner thoughts and feelings, his breath became more shallow, the heartbeat against her back quickened, and she watched, entranced, as the long tapering fingers began to move on her breast in a slow, gentle kneading rhythm. A delicious warmth began to steal through her, and her own pulse started to race as one hand moved downward.
Then, suddenly, he took a deep breath and turned her around to face him, her body limp and pliable in his arms. He moved away from her, pulled the sheet up to cover her and tucked it firmly under her arms. He propped himself up on one elbow and touched her lightly on the nose.
'Before we start that,' he said firmly, easing his long body farther away from her, 'we've got to talk.'
Bianca tensed at his cool withdrawal. She was suddenly afraid of what was coming. She hadn't pleased him. She was too inexperienced for a man like Gerry. He was going to tell her he didn't want her. But he'd said he loved her, she thought wildly. In today's parlance, though, what did that mean? To her, it meant commitment, total and irrevocable. To a man like Gerry it could mean anything from a one-night stand to… To what? What was the extent of his conception of involvement?
She steeled herself to look calmly into his eyes. 'Yes,' she replied in a steady voice. 'I'm ready.'
He leaned back on the propped-up pillow, his arms behind his head. He was frowning slightly, as though deep in thought. She longed to run her fingers over his forehead, down the straight strong nose, the fine sensuous mouth, the firm jaw and chin, covered now with a fine dark stubble. But she waited, afraid to move, even to breathe.
'Well, as I see it,' he went on in a remote, businesslike tone, 'the first issue we've got to settle is how soon we can get married. In California, it takes three days to…'
'Married!' she cried. It was the last thing she had expected him to say.
He gave her a puzzled look. 'Certainly, married. What did you think, that I made a hobby of going around seducing virgins just for the fun of it?' There was a hurt tone to his voice. He gazed grimly at her, a sudden flicker gleaming in the hooded black eyes. 'Bianca, don't you want to marry me?'
She flung herself on him with a sob of joy. 'Of course I want to marry you,' she cried into his chest. She lifted her head to gaze up at him. 'I just thought…'
He placed a finger under her chin. 'What did you think, Bianca?'
She reddened and lowered her eyes. 'I wasn't thinking, I guess.' She gave him a pleading look. 'This is all so new to me, Gerry. I'm out of my depth. I wasn't sure what you expected, what you wanted.'
'Bianca, I love you,' he said earnestly. 'You're the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me. I admit my life hasn't always been strictly conventional. I've done things, seen things, had experiences that I'm not proud of. But I told you from the beginning that I wanted to put all that behind me.' He reached for her and pulled her up into his arms, burying his dark head in her neck. 'I can't do that without you, Bianca,' he said in a muffled voice.
She stroked his hair and kissed his face. He loves me, her heart sang, and he wants to marry me, spend his life with me. She had never conceived such joy was possible. As she cradled his head in her arms, drawing it now down to her breast, she murmured her love for him in a low crooning voice. She felt fiercely protective of this strong man who had made himself so vulnerable to her, who had literally placed his heart, his life, his happiness in her hands.
She felt his fingers moving now in long sweeping strokes along her thigh, her hip, her waist and up to her breasts. Cupping them from the sides, he buried his mouth in the valley between them, then covered each soft, milky mound with hot, languorous kisses, until she felt her bones grow weak. Her breath was coming now in short panting gasps. He rolled on to his back and pulled her on top of him, his hands firmly pressing her lower body against his hard strong arousal.
This time there was no twinge of pain and none of the urgency of last night's experience. With slow, deep, steady movements, he brought her once again to the peak of fulfilment. As they climbed the mountain together and then went over the edge at the same instant, their hoarse mingled cries of ecstatic union filled the silent room.
After a late leisurely breakfast together, Gerry left her and drove down to Rumania House to retrieve her coat and handbag. When he returned, he took her back to Laura's house so that she could shower and change her clothes.
'Need any help?' she heard him call to her as she luxuriated under the warm spray in the stall shower.
The deep voice startled her. She'd never had a man in the bathroom with her before. Recovering herself, she smiled. 'Yes,' she called back. 'The living room needs vacuuming, and you might see what you can do about mending my costume.'
The glass door was suddenly wrenched open, and he was standing there with a wicked gleam in his eyes. 'Think you're pretty clever, don't you?' he said, cocking an eyebrow at her, and began pulling off his shirt.
She stood immobile under the spray and watched as he took off his shoes and socks, undid his belt buckle, unzipped his trousers and slid them down over his hips. When he was naked, he gave her another devilish grin, but in a second the smile faded, the eyelids came down halfway, and the playful look became one of raw hunger.
Then he was standing behind her, the shower door shut, his hands everywhere. He took the soap and lathered every inch of her body while she leaned back limply against him. His soap-slickened hands did magical thing to her senses, and finall
y, unable to bear another moment of the sweet torture, she turned into his arms and they clung together under the spray, their slippery bodies sliding against each other, their mouths locked.
They spent the rest of the afternoon talking, seated across from each other at the kitchen table so that they wouldn't be tempted to touch. Bianca was in a daze, thrilled to her very core to belong to this wonderful man who seemed to want only to be with her, to make her happy, to fill her with himself. His love for her seemed so direct, so simple, and absolutely unconditional.
'I think three,' he was saying thoughtfully now. 'Maybe four, if you feel up to it.'
'What in the world are you talking about?' she asked with a smile.
'Children, of course. Not for a while, yet. You're just a kid yourself.'
'I beg your pardon,' she retorted. 'I don't feel in the least like a kid, even if you did think I was a boy the first time we met.' Her voice softened. 'Whatever I was then, I'm a woman now.'
'All woman,' he murmured appreciatively. He reached across the table for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. 'And all mine.' He raised her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against the palm. Then, carefully, he slid it back across the table and released it. 'That's not going to help,' he said huskily. 'We really do have to talk.'
She cleared her throat. 'Do you really want to get married in three days?'
'Unless you can think of a way of doing it sooner,' he rejoined immediately. 'I'm not going to let you go. I don't want to take any chances or waste a minute.'
'I wonder where we should live,' she mused dreamily. Living with Gerry, she thought happily. It seemed too good to be true. 'We can stay here until Laura comes back. When do your friends get back from Japan?'
'Not for another month.' He frowned. 'I suppose we're committed to taking care of both houses until they get back, so it really doesn't matter which one we live in. But I want us to get our own place as soon as possible. I want our home. I want to put down roots, build a solid life together, raise a family.'
There was one subject they hadn't discussed, and it worried her. 'Gerry,' she said hesitantly, 'all these plans, all the things you want to do. Won't it cost a lot of money? My parents might be able to help us, but…'
He waved a hand in the air. 'Money's no problem,' he said shortly. 'Don't give it a thought.'
She wanted to ask him where the money was coming from, but something in the way he dismissed the subject warned her not to press the issue. She thought about the way he lived without working, the expensive car, his mother's luxury condo in Florida. Perhaps he'd had a large advance on his book, she thought, but somehow that didn't seem likely. It was a good book, but she didn't think a first novel would earn that kind of money, especially before it was even published.
At five o'clock he drove her to Rumania House so she could get ready to play that night. The red costume was beyond repair, and she needed to get there early enough to try on a new one from the rack in the dressing room. Gerry didn't want her to go back at all after last night's disturbance, but she insisted. With both Diane and Dino out of commission, she couldn't let Madame Tedescu down.
He dropped her off at the restaurant. She would have Laura's car to drive home in, and she still didn't want him to watch her playing in her costume and make-up, in spite of their new relationship, and over his vehement protests.
When she got home, well after midnight, Gerry was waiting for her. He spent the night in her bed, a night of slow, gentle lovemaking. At this point the legal formality of a marriage seemed redund-ant. They were so totally committed to each other, mind, body and soul, that a piece of paper hardly made a difference now.
He left right after breakfast the next morning. She wanted to make some telephone calls to her friends and family to tell them the news of her impending marriage, and she wanted to do it alone, without Gerry's disturbing presence. They had decided to ask Flicka and Tom to stand up for them at the wedding, and she needed to get hold of him as soon as possible.
Since she wanted to shop for a new dress for her wedding and Gerry was anxious to finish up the revision on his book, they decided to drive into town in separate cars and would meet at the county courthouse in Los Angeles at two o'clock that afternoon to get the licence and arrange for their blood tests. It was all happening so fast that she breathed a sigh of relief when he finally, reluctantly, left her to go next door. Somehow, she thought, telling her family and friends about it would make it more real. In the months she and Gerry had known each other they had lived virtually in a world of their own, isolated from their former lives, almost in a little cocoon. It was time to emerge into reality, she thought firmly, and telling people about him and their plans would be the first step.
But every number she tried was either busy or the person was unavailable. She wasn't even sure how to reach her parents, and was hoping Tom could help her, but when she finally got through to his office at UCLA, she was told that he was teaching a class. She left a message and asked that he call her back when he was free. The overseas call to Laura would have to wait until evening because of the time difference.
By ten o'clock she gave up. It was getting late. If she was to meet Gerry at two, she'd better get moving. The calls would have to wait.
She had never driven into Los Angeles by herself, but the city was laid out in a simple straightforward pattern of direct routes without the confusing triangular intersections so common in other cities. With the wonderful freeway system and the help of a map, she had no trouble finding her way, and in the middle of the morning the traffic was light.
She parked in a public lot and started down Broadway looking for a likely department store or dress shop where she might find a suitable wedding dress. The buildings were not nearly so tall here as they were in New York, and the streets were much wider, but the pavements seemed to be just as crowded with people.
Bianca enjoyed exploring new cities. It was a pleasant day, warm, smogless, and she wandered aimlessly around the city centre past the small shops, department stores, restaurants and cinemas. The courthouse wasn't far, and she headed up Hope Street in that direction to gauge her distance. It was still early, but she didn't want to be late for her appointment with Gerry.
There were several likely looking dress shops to choose from, and she had just about decided to go into the local branch of a large exclusive chain she was familiar with, when her eye was caught by a long line of people on the next block. Curious, she wandered past the shop to see what was going on.
When she reached the intersection, she could see that the line curved clear around the corner, and that its objective was a cinema. Imagine, she thought, going to the movies in the morning! It must be something really special to attract such a crowd at this hour.
She glanced up at the marquee, a white background bordered in blinking neon lights that seemed somehow garishly inappropriate in broad daylight. There were bold black letters on the marquee, and as she idly spelled them out, it took a moment for it to register. She blinked and read them again. 'Gerald Richards Festival' the letters said, and down below, 'Sex Symbol of the Seventies'.
No, she thought, swaying slightly in the bright sunshine as it hit her. It couldn't be. The name was a coincidence. Then she vaguely recalled that he had said something once about having done some acting. The light changed. People began to flow past her across the street. In a daze, she stumbled after them, drawn by an overwhelming, irresistible force. She had to find out.
At the front of the cinema was a large placard with a life-sized photographic cut-out of a half-naked man. When she was still several feet away from it, Bianca knew it was Gerry. She stood in front of it now, staring, still unable to take it all in.
His face in the photograph looked a little younger than he did now, but there was no mistaking the arrogant lift to his chin, the same hooded black eyes. The beautiful mouth she knew so well smiled seductively with the hint of a sensuous promise. The wide-muscled shoulders and smooth chest were bare
, and he had on a brief pair of dark shorts. The image flashed into her mind once again of the day she had first seen him standing in the window of the house next door.
The long legs were spread apart, pelvis jutting forward slightly in a provocative stance, his fists resting on his narrow hips in the typical pose that was so familiar to her.
She felt suddenly sick and faint. Her throat was dry, her heart pounding madly, and for a moment a blank darkness threatened to swamp her and carry her into a blessed oblivion. Then her head cleared, and a new sensation began to flow through her, a sensation she recognised as anger and which was steadily building to a cold hard fury that was absolutely foreign to her experience.
The line of people was slowly moving now. Still in a daze, but with this overwhelming sense of outrage to sustain her, she marched purposefully to the ticket office, bought a ticket and moved to stand woodenly at the back of the line. All she knew was that she had to see this for herself.
As the line inched slowly forward, she distracted herself from the turmoil of her thoughts by listening to the conversations around her. The line seemed to be made up primarily of young girls, dressed in every conceivable outfit, from shabby jeans to miniskirts, and their comments to each other were delivered in short breathless gasps of anticipation.
'Honestly, Kathy,' a girl in front of her was saying to her companion, 'he is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I just drool every time he gives the heroine that look.'
'I saw Manhattan Madness four times,' Kathy replied throatily. 'What a hunk!'
'That mouth!'
'That body!' The girl leaned over to whisper something in her friend's ear, and they both started to giggle.
Bianca's face and body burned with humiliation and shame. They were talking about Gerry. Gerry! Discussing his anatomy down to the most minute detail, explicitly describing the way he kissed, made love, even took a shower! It couldn't be! Not her Gerry.
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