Phantom Waltz

by Catherine Anderson

  A flush of humiliation slashed her cheeks. “They’re on my back. I had three surgeries, remember.”

  He started to lean around. “Please, don’t look,” she said. “I’m self-conscious about them. They’re ugly.”

  Ryan narrowed an eye at her. “Well, there seems to be no help for it. I guess I’ll have to drop my trousers and show you what a real scar looks like.” He reached for his belt buckle. “Tangled with barbed wire. Another story. Rafe was behind that one, too.”

  She noticed he was about to unfasten his belt and shook her head. “No, no. I—believe you. You don’t need to show me.”

  Ryan arched his eyebrows. “You need to show me yours. There’s no room for secrets between us, and I don’t want you worrying later that I might see them. Better to get it over with now. Agreed?”

  She nodded, but judging by her expression, she was none too thrilled at the thought. He decided to get the misery over with quickly and leaned around to look at the scars along her spine. His guts clenched when he located them, not because the three marks were ugly, but because they represented all the pain she had endured. He wished she might have been spared that unnecessary suffering, yet he also accepted that he, too, would have encouraged her to have the operations on the off chance that the spinal repairs might have helped her to walk again.

  Aware that she was waiting for his reaction, Ryan tried to think of something reassuring to say—that the scars weren’t ugly, that they didn’t bother him, that he would have barely noticed them when he made love to her. All of that was true, but for some reason, the words wouldn’t come. So instead, he acted on impulse, bracing himself on one elbow to lean farther around, then slowly trailing his lips the length of each incision mark. Bethany stiffened and arched her spine.

  “Oh, Ryan, don’t.”

  He finished kissing each scar, then drew back to look up at her. “I love everything about you,” he said softly. “Even the slightly imperfect parts. They just serve to remind me of how beautiful the rest of you is.”

  Her eyes misted with tears. “You don’t think they’re ugly?”

  “Not at all. Nothing about you could ever come close to being ugly.”

  He grasped the edge of the mattress on either side of her and pushed forward until his nose touched hers. When he continued the advance, she gave a startled squeak and fell onto her back, which was right where he wanted her. He moved his hands beside her shoulders and followed her down. Her eyes crossed slightly as she gazed up at him along the dainty bridge of her nose. He couldn’t resist kissing it, then following the slope in a slow ascent to her brow, where he traced the sable arches over her eyes with the tip of his tongue.

  “My God, you are so beautiful,” he whispered. “I could spend the whole night just tasting you.”

  She curled her hands over his upper arms, and he could feel her trembling. His heart caught. “Honey, you’re not afraid of me, are you?”

  “Oh, no.”

  He bit back a smile. She was so savvy and sassy much of the time that it was easy for him to forget she had absolutely no experience with men. Down, boy. Whether she wanted him to or not, he needed to take this slow.

  Shifting his weight to lie beside her, he braced up on one elbow and traced the edge of her bra with a fingertip, beginning at one shoulder and taking a lazy journey across the swells of her breasts to reach the opposite strap.

  “Do you have any idea how much I want you?”

  “As much as I want you, I hope.” She cupped a slender hand over his jaw, her dainty thumb trailing lightly along his cheek. Just feeling her touch him made his blood heat. “I tried so hard not to want you, but I couldn’t seem to help it.” She smiled dreamily. “It got so bad that I couldn’t sleep. I just lay there, wide awake, thinking and wishing and wondering. I can hardly believe I’m here with you now and that I’ll never have to imagine and wonder again.”

  Ryan searched her eyes and saw desire, turbulent and hot, eddying in those blue depths.

  She nibbled on her lip, a sudden frown pleating her smooth brow. “I really appreciate your being so thoughtful. Going so slow and taking the time to say nice things. But I really don’t need you to, if that’s why you’re doing it. I’m ready for you to—you know—start.”

  Ryan choked back a laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to drag my feet.”

  “Oh, I’m not complaining! I just—”

  “I understand,” he whispered, cutting her off by bending his head to kiss her lightly. Against her lips he added, “But, honey, I have to get you ready.”

  “I’m ready,” she assured him.

  He settled a hand at her waist and deepened the kiss. Sweet Christ. She was ready. Her soft, yielding mouth opened hungrily, encouraging him to enter and take. Only a dead man could resist an invitation like that, and he was a long way from the grave.

  Between kisses she whispered, “No secrets or games. Right? My body’s been as ready as it’ll ever get for over a month.”

  He reared back to search her face. “A month?”

  She nodded. “All those nights on the sofa, while you were watching the movies? I was thinking about—well, you know—doing this.”

  Ryan struggled to keep a straight face. “You’re kidding.”

  “No, really.”

  He unfastened the waistband of her skirt. Then he could no longer keep from grinning and started to chuckle as he bent his head to nibble on her neck. “When I was touching you here?” he asked as he nipped her skin. “And here?” He touched his tongue to the hollow under her ear. “And back here?” He leaned around, trying to reach her nape. “Damn, am I good, or what?”

  She twisted to look at him. “You did it on purpose.”

  It wasn’t really a question. Holding her gaze, he unzipped the side of her skirt. “Do bears live in the woods? Of course I did it on purpose. I was doing my damnedest to seduce you.”

  She giggled and closed her eyes. “When we’re finished here, remind me to skin you with a dull knife. For now, though, rest assured that your efforts were successful. I insist that you start living up to all those unspoken promises you made to me.”

  “What promises?”

  “That someday you were going to kiss me in all those places—and maybe in lots of other places as well. I’ve been wondering how it would feel for a whole month. Now I’m ready for you to put your money where your mouth is.” She laughed again. “Or maybe I should say, put your mouth where your hands were.”

  Ryan was more than ready to make good on those unspoken promises. He just couldn’t quite believe she was asking, or that he was the lucky man she’d chosen. He’d imagined having to ease her into this, thinking that she’d be shy and a little reluctant. Instead she was impatient, sweetly eager, and as hot as a little firecracker if her kisses were any indication.

  Please, God. He wanted to make it perfect for her—an incredible night that would remain in her memory always. She was such a dear heart, He had no idea what she may have imagined while she lay staring at the ceiling in her lonely bed, but he wanted to make her every fantasy come true.

  When he drew down her skirt, tights, and panties, she squeezed her eyes closed in embarrassment, clearly afraid he might be disappointed with her. He skimmed his gaze from the lower edge of her lacy bra to the tips of her dainty toes, drinking in the wealth of milk white skin. Every inch of her was absolute perfection, her ribs forming a delicate ladder of descent to an incredibly slender waist that gave way to the ample flare of her hips. Unable to resist the urge, he bent to nibble on the jut of one small hipbone, which made her jerk, gasp, and open her eyes.

  He grinned and hooked a fingertip under the edge of her bra. Tugging lightly, he said, “Everything off. I want to see all of you.”

  With trembling hands, she reached up to unhook the front clasp of the bra. As the lace fell away, her cheeks turned pink, and she studiously avoided looking up at him. “They’re not very big. Do you like big ones?”

  Ryan was so absorbed wi
th looking his fill that he barely registered the question. The creamy globes of her breasts were small, but exquisitely shaped, each tipped with a delicate, rosy nipple that hardened and thrust eagerly up at him, as if titillated by the searing heat of his gaze. He wanted to touch his tongue to each sensitive peak, to learn the taste of her. But her question still hung between them, waiting to be answered.

  He searched her eyes, realizing as he did that for her this was a momentous unveiling, the first time in her adult life that any man other than a doctor had ever seen her naked. Naturally she was unsure of herself. He hadn’t had a surplus of self-confidence himself his first time.

  “I prefer breasts on the small side,” he finally found the presence of mind to tell her.

  “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

  Ryan couldn’t help but smile. “No, I’m not just saying that. And as soon as I get you fully on the bed, lady, I’ve got some promises I need to make good on.”

  When he leaned over her to turn back the sheets, Bethany’s stomach did flips. She didn’t know why she felt so nervous, only that she did, and no matter how sternly she lectured herself, it didn’t seem to help.

  He slipped an arm around her waist, twisted to turn her on the bed, and then gently settled her back against the pillow. Gazing up at him, she thought she’d never seen anyone so handsome. In the dim light his skin looked as dark as teak, and his gray-blue eyes shimmered like moon-washed silver as they trailed slowly over her body.

  She realized that her knees were parted and grabbed for the blankets to cover her sprawled legs. Grasping her wrist, Ryan stopped her from taking refuge under the blankets as he situated himself beside her.

  “Don’t,” he whispered.

  “But my legs are—”

  “For tonight, they’re my legs.” Still wearing his unbuttoned shirt, he shifted his weight to better see her face, releasing her wrist to slide his palm up the inside of her left thigh. “I don’t know what angle you’ve been looking at those legs from, honey, but from my point of view, they’re absolutely gorgeous. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”

  “No.” Bethany’s breath caught again at the feel of his hard, warm palm on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Not that I—oh, my.”

  “You’ve got dimples in your knees,” he whispered huskily. “The cutest little dimples I’ve ever seen.”

  His dark face moved closer to hers—close enough that the warmth of his expelled breath wafted over her cheek as he spoke. He dipped his head to kiss where his breath had already started to make her skin tingle. His lips were silky and touched her like a whisper, blazing a fiery trail to her ear where the tip of his tongue came into play, licking at her lobe and electrifying her nerve endings.

  “Bethany’s eyes drifted partway closed. She grasped his shoulders and dug in hard with her fingers, feeling as if his sturdiness was her only anchor in a world that was suddenly spinning. Oh, God. She loved the way his lips trailed over her skin, so lightly it was like being teased with butterfly wings. And, oh, how wonderful it was to feel his chest graze the tips of her breasts. With every pass, her heart leaped and her breathing hitched. The softness of his shirt was a flimsy barrier over hard, vibrant pads of warm muscle that rippled and flexed each time he moved. Ryan. She even loved the smell of him—a tantalizing blend of masculine scents that titillated her senses.

  When he trailed his lips to her throat, she let her head fall back and arched, loving the sensations as he kissed and nibbled and suckled her skin. A hot tingling feeling ribboned through her to pool like liquid fire low in her belly, and the funny, achy sensation that had kept her awake countless nights grew so acute she wanted to arch against him like a cat. The inclination became more intense when he traced the shape of her collarbone with the tip of his tongue. Her breathing grew more uneven, the shallow little pants barely reaching her lungs. An unbidden whimper escaped her when she felt his lips moving lower.

  A thousand times she had wondered how it must feel to be loved by a man, and a fair five hundred of those times had occurred over the last two months. In the darkness of her room, while she lay alone in her bed, she’d stared blindly into the blackness of night, and wondered, the ache of need inside her making her fantasize and want.

  How would it feel to have Ryan’s hands on her body?

  How would it feel if he kissed her skin?

  How would it feel to have him suckle her nipples?

  Now he was finally about to do it, and she could barely stand the wait. She held her breath, yearning for the heat of his mouth on her breasts.

  As he kissed his way downward, he kept to the center of her chest, following the line of her sternum to her cleavage. Bethany’s heart started to pound—a resonant pounding that rang in her ears. Her nipples went all hard and were so sensitive that the slight movement of his shirt over the tips made all of her thoughts splinter. He kissed the inside swell of one breast, then he kissed the other. She wished he would just get over there where she so desperately wanted him to be, but he seemed bent on teasing her and building the suspense first.

  He kissed little trails toward her nipples, then veered off course, mercilessly tormenting her until she felt sure she would go mad. Each time his jaw grazed her aureole, she jerked and thought about taking fistfuls of his hair to hold him fast.

  When she couldn’t stand the sweet torture any longer, she did just that, bracing her arms against him when he attempted to move away. He lifted his dark head and stared at the bare peak of her breast, his eyes turning dark and molten. He clearly knew what she wanted. And when he didn’t give it to her, as she was praying he might, she could have wept with frustration.

  “Oh, God, Bethany, you’re beautiful,” he whispered raggedly, his hot breath whispering across the throbbing peak to intensify her yearning. “You make me think of strawberries and cream, my favorite thing on earth.”

  She just wanted him to take a taste. “Ryan … ?”

  He moved up to take her mouth in a long, deep kiss instead, which wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but he kissed her until she couldn’t quite remember what she’d been wanting, anyway.

  Until his chest dragged over her breasts. Instant recall. “Ryan?”

  “What, honey?”

  “Would you—” Bethany gulped, wishing he would just get down to business. “Would you kiss me, please?”

  He took her mouth again. A deep, tongue-tangling, whopper of a kiss that set her head to reeling. It was lovely. Beyond description. A fantastic, wonderful, soul-shaking kiss that made her heart pound. But it wasn’t what she wanted.

  When he finally broke away to grab for breath, she gulped and said, “Not my mouth. My breasts.”

  He searched her gaze for a long, pulse-hammering moment. Then he grinned and said, “The waiting is what makes it fun.”

  “I’ve had enough fun. Twenty-six years of it.”

  He chuckled, the sound wicked and laced with purely male satisfaction. “Got you beat. I’ve been waiting to kiss those breasts for thirty years, and I’m damned well going to enjoy the anticipation.” He dipped his head to lap at the V of her collarbone. “I’m going to taste every sweet inch of you and save those beautiful breasts for last.”

  Bethany nearly groaned. She wanted him to kiss her there so badly that she was trembling. She kept a tight hold on his hair—or tried to, anyway—her mind splintering when the heat of his mouth zeroed in on the underside of her upraised arm and trailed slowly up to the bend of her elbow. She didn’t know how he managed it, but he made the most ordinary parts of her body feel like supersensitive erogenous zones.

  “Oh, God.” She nearly sobbed when he shook her hand loose from his hair and attacked her palm, tracing the lines etched there as if he meant to commit each one to memory. When he drew the tip of her finger into his mouth and she felt that incredibly wet, soft heat drawing on her flesh, she did sob. “Ryan, enough. I can’t bear it.”

  “Sure you can.” He licked his way down her finger. �
�When I’m done with you, you won’t remember your own name, and you’ll be begging me to kiss those breasts. And when I finally do, the sensations will send you straight over the edge.”

  “Ah-ah-ahhhh” was all she could get out by way of response. He was nibbling on her wrist bone now. She felt like a smorgasbord laid out for his enjoyment.

  He nipped his way back up to her elbow and sucked on it, laving her skin with his tongue. “I’ll take your nipples between my teeth,” he whispered raggedly, “just like this.” He gave her a preview of the delights in store for her, nibbling gently on her arm. “And with each tug of my teeth, I’ll make you think you’re dying from the pleasure.”

  She was already dying. He ducked his head under her arm to nibble on her ribs, ascending the ladder of ridges to her underarm, which she might have found embarrassing if she’d still had a clear thought in her head.

  “Ryan …” she murmured, dragging out each syllable of his name.

  He grasped both of her wrists in one big hand, anchored her arms above her head, and then reared back to gaze down at her chest. “Lordy, girl, you’re something.” His eyes burned with the heat of passion when he met her gaze again. He smiled slightly—the smile of a man who knew exactly what he was about and was savoring every second of it.

  “I’m going to kiss them now. Are you ready?”

  She’d been ready for ten minutes. She managed to nod. He grinned and then, with an agonizing slowness that made her skin burn with anticipation, he bent his dark head. “Watch,” he whispered.

  The edict was entirely unnecessary. Her gaze was riveted to his mouth and followed its lazy descent. When his lips came to within an inch of her breast, her nipple went even harder, thrusting upward to meet him. He smiled and blew on the tip. The unexpected waft of steamy warmth followed by the coolness of the air made her spine arch and her breathing stop. She tried to wrest her hands free from his grip, but he tightened his hold.