Fools Rush In (19 page)

With a tremulous smile on her lips, Erin laid her cheek against Max's sable curls and rubbed back and forth. His hair was soft against her skin, its clean fragrance pleasing. His breath filtered through her cotton shirt and flowed warm and moist over her breasts. It had been a stupid, reckless thing to do, falling in love with Max, she admitted forlornly, but there was no denying it. Just as there was no denying him. Not when he needed her so.

Soft endearments and meaningless words of comfort tumbled from her lips. The need to console, to soothe, to shield this strong, caring man from further pain consumed Erin.

For endless moments they simply held each other. Then Max twisted and stretched out on the bed, tumbling her with him. Erin offered no resistance, going willingly into his arms when he aligned his body to hers.

He pressed his face to the side of her neck and murmured her name over and over. Erin smoothed her hands over his chest, her fingers flexing against his shirt, feeling the warmth beneath it, the heavy thudding of his heart against her palms. There was something so right, so comforting in human closeness, in touching.

They lay belly to belly, breast to chest, legs entangled. Warmth generated warmth. Max nuzzled her neck, her ear, the underside of her jaw. Easing back, he brushed a wayward curl away from her face. Their eyes met and held. His were stark, hers infinitely soft. Silently he sought. Silently she gave.

When their lips met in a tender kiss, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. It was a balm, solace for a wounded soul, a gift of caring.

One kiss followed another, and another, brief, feather-light touches, lips rubbing, breaths mingling. Moist. Warm. It was a leisurely give and take, relaxed and soothing, making no demands, yet it was incredibly sensual. Each nibbling caress stirred emotions and stoked fires, until, imperceptibly as night easing into dawn, the exquisitely delicate exchange altered.

The need to give and receive comfort became merely need. Pulses began to pound, chests tightened. Heat and anticipation grew.

Still, with quivering restraint, the excruciating kisses went on.

"Oh, Erin. Sweet Erin," Max murmured against her lips. "Your touch is magic. Somehow, when I hold you like this, nothing else seems important."

She felt the same. At that moment nothing and no one else mattered—not her sister, not the danger they faced, not even the need to protect herself from the pain of loving a man she could never have.

"Max." His name was all she could manage, and even that was said in an aching whisper that carried the threat of tears, so overcome with emotion was she.

Rising on one elbow, Max looked down at her, his face dark and intense. With his other hand, he unfastened the top button on her blouse... and then the next... and the next... his gaze locked with hers all the while. When he reached the last one he paused. "I need you, Erin," he said in a voice that shook with raw urgency. "I need you so much."

It was there in his eyes—burning desire tinged with desperation—and in the blue depths there were also shadows of pain he made no attempt to hide.

His grief did what no amount of logical reasoning or masterful seduction could have. Erin gazed up at him, eyes glistening. She touched his cheeks with her fingertips, then his temples, feeling her chest swell and ache. He had suffered a loss so great that it was almost unbearable, and his bereaved heart was asking for the comfort of her love.

And because she loved, she gave. All that was in her, all that was soft and nurturing came rushing up from deep within, pouring through her in a warm tide. She felt as though her heart would surely burst.

Erin slid her hands behind his head and clasped them together, pulling him down to her. "Max, my love, I need you, too," she whispered. Her eyelids drifted shut, and with a soft sigh, her open mouth met his.

The time for gentle exploration and restraint had passed. The kiss was filled with hunger and heat and feverish emotion.

Max tugged the blouse free of her slacks and spread the edges wide. He slid his hand up over her rib cage and cupped her breast, and Erin moaned, her nipple peaking against its lacy confinement as his fingers flexed rhythmically around the soft mound.

Erin shifted against him, a feeling of urgency building within her. Blindly, a bit desperately, her fingers sought the buttons of his shirt. Her hands shook, and her movements were jerky and awkward, making her task harder. When the final button resisted her efforts she whimpered and gave it a sharp yank, and with a pop of thread the tiny disk came off in her hand.

Frantic, she ran her palms over his chest, threading her fingers through the mat of soft hair covering it. She found the flat nubs nestled there and with her fingernails drew circles around them, lightly scoring his flesh. Max stilled, then shuddered as she nipped his lower lip and at the same time flicked the small turgid nipples.

"Oh, God, Erin," he said on a groan. "I can't take much more of this." He rose to his knees and looked down at her, his face flushed with desire, his eyes a burning blue. "I want you too much."

"I want you, too." Erin trailed her hand down over his flat abdomen and slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans.

Max sucked in his breath. "Come here, love." He pulled her to a sitting position and stripped the blouse and lacy bra from her. She lay back, languid and flushed against the pillow, and watched him with drowsy eyes as he removed her shoes, then eased her cotton slacks down over her hips and legs.

He straightened and hooked his fingers under the top of her bikini panties to remove them, then went still as he took in the picture she made, clad in only the brief wisp of white silk and lace. "Dear Lord, you're so beautiful," he whispered. Tentatively, he touched her breasts. With his forefinger, he traced a blue vein that rivered just beneath the surface. The sight of his dark hand against that pale, delicate flesh was unbearably arousing and, unable to help himself, he bent and touched a pink nipple with his tongue. It tightened at once, and he drew the rose velvet tip into his mouth. Erin cried out, her back arching.

With a growl, Max shoved her panties down and off and tossed them aside. He scrambled from the bed, snatching at his own clothes, his eyes never leaving her as he disrobed. Then he was there beside her, pulling her to him, their sighs blending as warm, bare flesh met and melded. As he kissed her deeply, hotly, he rolled her onto her back, parting her legs with his knee, and eased between her silken thighs.

His mouth rocked over hers as he pressed intimately against her. Erin shifted and moaned. Their lips clung, then parted as Max lifted his head. Looking into her eyes, he whispered, "I love you, Erin," and he entered her with a slow, silken stroke.

The beauty of it wrung a cry of joy from Erin. She clung to him, her hands roaming his bare back in restless passion, her body responding with a thrusting urgency that matched his.

Their joining was intense and powerful, almost frantic. It was the natural coming together of a man and woman in the ultimate expression of love; it was an act of comfort; but, dimly, Erin was aware that it was also a reaffirmation, proof that they were alive, that they could feel and respond, that life in all its beauty and struggle was theirs still. After the past two days of trauma and near disaster, that was something they both desperately needed, and they grasped at it like eager children.

The pleasure was glorious. It spiraled rapidly, fueled by days of pent-up tension and longing. Max rose on his elbows, his face tightening with fierce gladness at the glaze of passion in her eyes. He thrust deeper, harder, and smiled as he watched her rapture grow.

"I knew it would be like this for us," he declared in a ragged voice. He threw his head back, and his jaw clenched as though he were in pain. "Oh, God, Erin! It feels so wonderful to be inside you."

Erin gazed up at him, almost senseless with pleasure. She slid her hands down his sides to his hips and grasped them, her fingers digging into his firm buttocks. "Please, Max," she whispered, her head moving back and forth on the pillow. "Oh, please."

His response to her incoherent plea was immediate. "Yes! Oh, God, yes!" he cried, and he lowered his chest over the soft mounds of her breasts. A low moan rumbled from him as he felt her hardened nipples push up through the mat of hair and touch his flesh, felt her silken legs wrap around him.

The flames of passion raged. Pressure built. Ecstasy grew and grew until it bordered on pain. It swirled around them, within them. It made them breathless and desperate and filled their hearts to bursting. Bodies grew taut, straining for more, still more, until the sweet agony could no longer be borne.

The end came in a cataclysmic explosion of sensation that flung them to the edge of the universe and gave them a glimpse of heaven that shook them to their souls.

The drift back to earth was slow and dreamy. It was several minutes after their harsh cries of completion had faded before their hearts slowed and their breathing approached normal. Erin lay with her head cradled on Max's shoulder, her eyes closed. Savoring the delicious lassitude, she absorbed his warmth, his scent, the feel of his skin against hers.

The aftermath of passion rendered her mindless for a few moments, but too soon, reality began to nibble at the edges of her consciousness. Erin opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the expanse of damp hair covering Max's chest.

Her hand lay curled in the silky thatch. It stirred with every breath she took.

A heaviness began to grow in the region of Erin's heart. She swallowed and gazed across the room at the garish red wallpaper. Oh, Lord, what had she done?

Erin squeezed her eyes shut, her face contorting with anguish.

The slow rotation of Max's hand on her shoulder came to a halt. "What is it, darling? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." She spoke with forced lightness, her tone soft and sincere. Hearing her own voice, Erin was amazed that she could sound so convincing when what she wanted to do was cry and wail at her own foolishness.

"Then why are your lips quivering like that?"

Erin wondered how he knew, but before she could puzzle it out he tipped her face up with a finger under her chin, and when her eyes popped open she grimaced. She had forgotten the mirror on the ceiling.

She turned her head aside and fought against tears and guilt.

Max shifted, bracing himself up on an elbow to lean over her. "Ah, love, don't." He would not let her evade him. Cupping her jaw in the V between his thumb and fingers, he turned her anguished face back. He grimaced at the sight of her moist eyes and wobbly chin.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. When you kissed me so sweetly, things just got out of hand. God knows, I didn't mean for our first time to be in a dump like this. But I'll make it up to you. I swear it."

His apology made her feel worse. What she had done was bad enough, but to betray her sister in a place like this...

Erin's eyes swept the room with distaste. She was suddenly conscious of the sleazy feel of the red satin against her skin and the smell of cheap perfume that hung in the air. Though she kept her gaze averted from the ceiling, she was aware of their wanton reflection in the mirror, and even the slightest movement of their nude bodies registered in her peripheral vision.

"It's not that," she denied, unable to meet his eyes. "At least... not completely.''

"Then what? Something is bothering you."

Giving a little cry, Erin rolled away and sat up on the side of the bed. She felt vulnerable and wanted to hide, or at least cover herself up, but her robe was in the suitcase, and she didn't have the courage to make a dash for the bathroom. She kept her back to him and pulled the bedspread across her front, tucking it under her arms. She sat hunched over, head down, arms crossed over her breasts, clutching the quilted satin.

The bed shifted as Max moved closer. Erin sucked in her breath and shivered when he trailed a finger down her bowed spine.

"I think I'm developing a fetish for your back," he murmured wickedly in her ear. His hand explored her shoulder blades, mapping the long inward curve to her waist and the flare of her hips. Once again he drew his finger along her spine, down to that shadowy cleft at its base. "It's easily the most beautiful back I've ever seen. I get all hot and bothered just looking at it." As if to prove his statement, he placed a lingering kiss on her shoulder.

Erin wriggled in a halfhearted protest, which he ignored. Slipping an arm around her waist, Max pulled her into the curve of his body, and she closed her eyes as she felt the feathery brush of his chest hair against her back. He propped his chin on her shoulder, and his moist breath dewed her ear as he said, "Now then, why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"

"Several things," she admitted. Her mouth twisted in a pained grimace and she shook her head. "For one, I can't believe that I... that we..."

"Made love?" Max supplied helpfully.

"Yes! Do you realize that we met only a little over two days ago? You may find this hard to believe, but I'm not in the habit of jumping into bed with a man I barely know. Or even with one I do know!" Erin closed her eyes and moaned. "Oh, Lord, I can't believe this!"

Max chuckled and gave her waist a squeeze. "Honey, we know each other, all right. In these past few days we've lived through a lifetime and experienced more together than most couples ever do. There's nothing like stress to cut through all the polite facades and reveal true character. We got to know each other under the worst possible conditions, yet we still fell in love." He grasped her chin and turned her head, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Didn't we?"