Dreams Don't Wait (Contemporary romance) (17 page)

"Don't," he said.

She looked up at him, tried to look more relaxed than she felt. "Don't what?"

"Don't second-guess this. It's meant to be.
We're
meant to be."

He was right. She lowered her head and, with awkward movements, tried to tug her shirt away from her skirt. His hands covered hers.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nerves. I want this to be... good."
I don't want to disappoint you.

"It will be. And if we don't get it right the first time, we'll keep working on it until we do."

"I don't really know much about lovemaking." Still hesitating, she didn't smile back. She felt a dime short of miserable.

He gave her a wicked grin. "That makes one of us."

With one smooth move, he freed her top from her skirt. Kneeling in front of her, he slowly undid the buttons on her shirt, kissing each inch of skin as he exposed it.

She closed her eyes when his head lowered to kiss the valley between her breasts. When she opened her eyes, her bra was off, and Linc was openly admiring her breasts. Cupping them, he glanced up at her.

"Beautiful," he said, touching each nipple.

He rubbed his knuckles across them and watch when they hardened and strained to his touch.

Every nerve in her body quivered and tensed. Linc's breath, his warm, moist lips on her breasts, struck her senses a knockout blow. She struggled to fill her air-depleted lungs, but her hard won breath was expelled in a rush when Linc's expert tongue played across the tip of one straining breast.

"You know all you need to know, love," he whispered against her skin. "You're a natural."

She knotted her fingers in his silky hair and drew his face to hers. What came naturally was to kiss this man until it was his turn to beg for mercy. She fell back on the bed, pulling him with her, and while she concentrated on kissing him senseless, he removed her skirt and slip, leaving her down to a filmy slash of silk panties.

She rolled over and braced an arm across his chest. When she managed to catch a breath between kisses, she said, "The way you did that, I'm guessing I'm in the hands of a master."

He ran his hands down her back, slipping two fingers under the wisp of silk. "What?" he asked.

"Get my clothes off, Mister Slick—at the speed of light. I came into this room fully and properly dressed. Blouse, skirt, bra—the works. And now..."

In a rapid movement, Linc relieved her of her panties. "And now?"

She laughed. "And now I'm as naked as the New Year's baby."

"More naked." He dropped her panties on the floor beside the bed.

"More naked—while you're still fully clothed."

"I figure when you get interested enough, you'll take care of that."

"I'm interested."

"Good."

She straddled him, and he groaned when the weight of her pressed down on his erection. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea." He closed his eyes.

She smiled, shifted her weight to cause him further agony, and set about undoing the last buttons of his shirt, unclasping his belt buckle, and opening his zipper,

Stroking the hard length of him through his briefs, she bent to lick and kiss his nipples. He lifted himself, and shrugged the shirt from his shoulders.

In the next second, she was on her back, Linc looming over her, his eyes a mixture of humor and pain. "My turn," he murmured, running his hand between her breasts, around the curve of her waist, and down her abdomen. He teased at the apex of her thighs. One finger. Touching. Not touching. Her knees fell open, begging for more.

Her breaths came in gasps. "You're good at this, aren't you?" His finger slipped into her, and she inhaled deep, arcing to his hand.

"I'm a tactile kind of guy." Another stroke. Deeper.

Evan swallowed hard and reached for his hand. She needed a fully drawn breath, and couldn't get one while he continued his assault. She pulled his hand to the hollow of her stomach, held it still.

"I need you to..."

He looked into her eyes, his hand unmoving where she held it in hers. Evan was surprised at what she saw in his face. Disappointment? Resignation?

"Take off your clothes," she said. "I can't manage it right now. And—"

"And?" His smile came back instantly.

"Don't take too long." She moved his hand back to its starting point and opened her legs.

He didn't.

Skin on skin, they entwined on a long, satisfying shudder, coming together perfectly and completely. For a moment, passion ebbed and they lost themselves in each other's heat and curves, the fit of their bodies.

"You feel so good." He buried his head in the hollow at her throat. "I could hold you forever."

He lay between her legs, his erection pulsing against her. She put her hand between them to stroke him. His entire body quaked, heaved.

He swore softly, before he turned his mouth to her ear, giving her earlobe a nip. "Witch," he growled, lifting his head. When she took him fully in her hand, encircled him and squeezed, he closed his eyes. When he opened them, she was studying him.

"You like that, don't you? Watching me squirm?" But he didn't seem to mind.

She ran her hands over his firm buttocks, his back; couldn't stop looking at him. "I like watching you—period," she said.
Enraptured. That's what I am. Enraptured.

Linc tangled his fingers in her hair and drew her face to his. The kiss was deep, probing, and deliciously thorough, his tongue keeping a sensual, seductive rhythm. The threshold of pleasure/pain reached, every part of her body yearned for his.

"Please," she whispered. "Now."

He nestled his hand intimately in the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs. She heard her own cry as he readied her, loved her, felt the heat and moisture pool to ease his way. She twisted, writhed against the motion of his hand until the friction was unbearable.

After he'd protected them, Evan pulled him back to the cradle of her thighs and he entered her, slowly. Exquisitely.

Linc closed his eyes, strained for control. It didn't work. Nothing worked. When Evan dug her nails into his back, when her breath gusted hot over his neck, a wildness came, and he plunged deep—again and again—each stroke more powerful than the last, with Evan lifting to him, taking him. All of him. Buried in her, he heard himself curse—or was it pray?—for restraint. He didn't know. But it worked.

He held back, swallowed Evan's breathy moans until her final cry, until the tremors of her body told him what he needed to hear.

His own release was seconds later.

Chapter 9

"It's midnight. You'd better go. Maud might... and I wouldn't want her to think... Oh, you know what I mean." Evan's words trailed off into an indecipherable mumble when she buried her face near his shoulder.

"I do," Linc said, kissing her hair, then smoothing it back. She was right. He should go, but he made no move.

"Linc?"

"Hush," he said, glad when she did as he asked, sighed, and cuddled closer to him.

"What, no argument?" he whispered in her ear.

"Who has the strength to argue?"

He chuckled. With Evan nestled under his arm as though she belonged there, he had to be the most satisfied man alive
. All good and very, very right.

A slight frown creased his forehead. There'd been one moment when he'd thought she didn't want him to touch her, when the long, cold years of his marriage intruded. But he'd been wrong and the moment passed, replaced with a feeling he hadn't felt in years—had
never
felt. A feeling so new and overwhelming, he hadn't recognized it, wouldn't name it.

I'm in love with her.

Admitting it to himself brought a settling, a kind of peace he hadn't known in years. But while there was no doubt in his mind, that wasn't true for Evan. Which meant building their relationship was going to take work–everything worthwhile did.

I love her... And when the right time comes, I'll tell her. For now I'll have to be content with showing her—by doing what she asked. Get out of her bed even if it kills me.

He lifted her chin, kissed her lightly on the mouth, and started to get up. Immediately her grip on him tightened.

"Make up your mind, sweetheart." He kissed her again and smiled. "Stay or go?"

She moaned and pulled the pillow over her face.

"I take it that means go?"

She looked at him from under the pillow, nodded her head in pained resignation, then stuffed the pillow behind her to sit up and look at him. When she pulled the sheet up to cover herself, he pulled it down and planted a kiss on her breast. He tousled her already tousled hair, then forced himself to stand up, amazed to find his body ready for her again.

"At least you have the grace not to look happy about it." He pulled on his briefs and wrinkled slacks.

"I'm not." She smiled at him, but her expression turned serious when she added, "It was... wonderful. It's been so long, I'd forgotten—" She stopped. "No, that wouldn't be right. I haven't
forgotten
anything. It was
never
like that for me before."

He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his hand across her sheet-covered thigh. "For me either. Believe me."

She touched his mouth with a questioning finger. "Why didn't I meet you years ago?"

He clasped her hand and kissed her palm. "Saving the best for last?"

"Egotist!"

"You're the one who just told me I'm a world-class lover."

"I never..." She hit him with a pillow instead of finishing the sentence, and he pinned her to the bed, arms above her head. She was laughing when he kissed her. The kiss deepened, and for a moment both of them forgot to play. Her breath fanned across his cheek as he lifted his head to look into her eyes.

"Not fair," she said, "using superior strength to take advantage of me." She didn't look as if she minded.

When their gazes locked, smiles faded, and the air between them warmed and thickened. Linc's emotional center shifted with a gut-wrenching twist. And there, amidst rumpled sheets, tossed pillows, and laughter, he knew he couldn't wait—he had to tell her. Now. The words rose in his throat, welled upward. Unstoppable. He knew the risk, knew she might reject him—but it was a risk he
had
to take.

"I'm in love with you, Evan," he said.

Her eyes widened at his words, then slowly closed. "Don't. Please don't."

"Don't?" He shook his head. "Not possible. Holding back the tide"—he gestured to the ocean outside the window—"would be easier. I love you. I can't—and don't want—to change that. And I want everything that comes with it."

"You're talking two-car garage and white picket fence here, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh."

She sat up, pulled the sheet to her as if it were chain mail and she were under siege. "I told you, Linc, no entanglements."

"You did," he agreed. He stood away from the bed, put on his shirt, and buttoned it, looking down at her as he did so. Her expression was guarded, beyond wary and a shade short of fear. Not the reaction he'd hoped for, but not exactly a surprise. It appeared the battle to win the heart and mind of Evangeline North had begun in earnest—and it wasn't going to be easy. But damned if he wasn't looking forward to it.

"Then you didn't hear me."

He stopped buttoning and stared at her grim face. "I said I love you, Evan, not that I'd just lost our firstborn in a poker game."

"But what if I don't—can't love you back?"

He did up the last button. "You do."

This time when her mouth fell open, he closed it with a quick kiss, then sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his shoes.

When she found her voice, she was kneeling in the center of the bed, shrouded in linen. "This is crazy. I don't want any of this. I told you, no plans and no promises. There's going to be... pain, hurt... for both of us." She sounded desperate.

"Not if we do this right, there won't."