Her Ideal Man (15 page)

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Authors: Ruth Wind

BOOK: Her Ideal Man
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Her eyes were closed, her chin was faintly lifted, and her nostrils were Hared. The lush red lips were faintly parted to let her hurried breath through. She was as aroused as he, but struggling not to show it.
The dark rose nipples were aroused, and Tyler sighed as he bent close. “This is the second part,” he said, “and then I'll let you go. Just let me—” he moved his mouth very close to the tip of her left breast and flicked his tongue over it “—taste you.” Trembling with desire, he opened his mouth and drew her inside his lips.
And he was lost, lost in the soft cry that escaped her, lost in the taste of nubby flesh, lost in the sensual pleasure of giving and receiving pleasure like this. Anna shivered against him, her hands lighting on his shoulders, then in his hair.
Delirious pleasure. Every inch of her. Every sound, every movement. Every—
She gripped his hair tightly. “Tyler, please stop now.”
He raised his head, hearing the urgent sound in her voice. There was anguish on her face, and she whispered, “Please.”
Tyler released her abruptly, shattered by his own driving sensuality. “I'm sorry,” he said gruffly. “I'm going outside for a minute, okay?”
Careful not to look at her, he yanked open the glass door and stepped out into the cold, cold night.
Chapter 14
A
nna was shaking all over—bone-deep trembling she could not seem to still, no matter what she did. She was grateful that Tyler had given her a moment to collect herself.
Until that last moment, the teasing between them had seemed harmless. Anna had been drawn into his passion because she was so hungry for him, but it had seemed like a game until the last.
Until that big head lowered close to her breasts, until his beautiful mouth closed upon her, hot and wet, and skillful. She had fallen adrift on the feel of him, on the erotic pleasure he gave so easily, on the wonders of him wanting her at all, much less with the passion she sensed in him tonight.
That passion was part of the hidden Tyler, a passion vast and deep and too long denied, a passion that held a fierceness that frightened her. She remembered the way they had bruised each other with the force of their passion that night at his cabin, and knew she could not hold him off forever. Whatever else there was between them, she suspected the physical link was far more intense than was usual.
But it was that very intensity that terrified her. That passion would engulf her, devour her, snare her heart and soul and mind, until the real Anna was submerged somewhere in a desperate, doomed love for a man who would never love her in return.
Shakily she fixed her clothes and retreated into the luxuriously appointed bathroom. On impulse, she stripped and turned on the shower, very cold, to break this spell. She yelped when she stepped under the spray, but it provided the shock she needed.
Sooner or later, she would have to make love with him. Probably better sooner than later, if she was to blunt the ferocity of his barely contained passion. But even standing under a cold shower, she couldn't imagine how she would do it without losing herself in the bargain.
A bit of remembered sexual lore popped into her head: If a couple put a penny in a jar every time they made love the first year, then took a penny out every time after the first year, they would never use up the pennies in the jar.
Maybe it was just normal chemistry, and would burn itself out. Maybe she didn't have to be so afraid. Maybe she was fighting the wrong fight.
In a sudden decision, she turned off the shower and wrapped herself in one of the enormous bath sheets hanging on the racks. Rubbing her skin hard to make it glow, she hurried into the bedroom and found the silk gown Louise had given her. With anticipation knotting in her belly, she donned the wispy fabric and went to find Tyler.
He still stood on the balcony in the falling snow, staring out into the darkness. Anna stepped over the cards on the floor, and went to the door. “Tyler,” she said quietly. “I'm sorry.”
Without turning, he said, “I'll live.”
She winced. She had really hurt his feelings. “Tyler, why don't you come inside?”
“In a minute.”
She gathered her courage, and said, “I have a surprise for you.”
He turned, simply swiveled in place, putting his hands behind him on the rail. In the full-sleeved shirt and black jeans, his hair tossed by the wind, snow falling around him, he looked like the ghost of a pirate. An angry pirate.
His pale gaze flickered downward, caressing her form below thin silk, and she saw his jaw harden. “I'm not really in the mood for a virgin sacrifice,” he said.
Stung, Anna took a step backward, then stood her ground. “I think
virgin
is the wrong choice of words here.”
“Sacrifice
isn't.”
She stared at him, hurt welling up in her chest. Without a word, she turned and walked away, holding up her head so that he would never know how deeply he'd wounded her. Damn him.
Resolutely she climbed into the enormous bed and curled into a fetal position of comfort. Until she lay down, she had no idea how exhausted she was, but the instant she was prone, her body gave a collective gasp of relief, and the long night before, and the long day, and the demands of the pregnancy, caught up with her. In moments, she was sound asleep.
 
Tyler stayed on the balcony until he was chilled from his bones outward, until he was absolutely certain he could trust himself to respect the distance Anna had asked for. Closing the door behind him, he listened for her in the suite. For all he knew, she might have left.
A move that might be best for both of them. Quietly, he moved through the sitting room and peeked into the bedroom. Until he saw her small, still form, the black hair flung over the pillows, and felt relief course through him, he didn't know how much it mattered that she'd stayed.
On the wide expanse of the enormous bed, she barely took up the space of a postage stamp. Half of him wanted to crawl in next to her, but the other half—the sensible half—told him he would only make things worse if he did.
His head ached vaguely from champagne, and there was a hollow thud of shame in the region of his heart. Turning away from the temptation of Anna, he moved back into the sitting room and, from long habit, bent down to pick up the cards. His winning straight flush was scattered from the force of his need when she had moved toward him at last, and he halted, assailed by a vision of her kneeling before him in her red sweater. With it came heat and need, and a new stab of guilt.
Idly, he picked up the cards and dealt them into a game of solitaire. All his life, he'd held himself to be made of better cloth than his father and brothers, taking quiet pride in his devotion to one woman, when they all seemed to want dozens. After Kara's death, he'd clung to chastity as if it were a life raft, arrogantly secure in his moral superiority.
But both of his brothers had proven their steadfastness when they found the women meant for them. Between them, Jake and Lance had probably had more women than Tyler had ever seen, but all conquests were forgotten when they found The One.
What an arrogant fool he'd been all these years. Because he found Kara when they were young, Tyler had never been tested. He'd found harmony and satisfaction in his wife, and he'd never needed to look beyond his own front door. Afterward, his grief had been so encompassing for so long that even managing to take care of Curtis had taken every scrap of physical and mental and spiritual energy he owned.
What would he have been like if he'd never met Kara? He wondered if he would have charmed women into having sex with him, as his brothers had, never regretting the liaisons because, as Lance was fond of saying, he gave them something worth remembering. Kara had instinctively understood his teenage lust, and even when she did not allow intercourse until their wedding night, she had known a lot of other tricks to keep him from going insane. By the time he was sixteen, Tyler had had a lot more regular sex than anyone he knew, though he hadn't talked about it. It had been private, personal.
And because he'd explored the world of the senses with one woman, he had developed no inhibitions except the one against sleeping with anyone else. Together, he and Kara had explored the farthest reaches of sensual pleasure.
He frowned at the cards. Poor Anna. She had been a virgin when he took her the first time, and his memory of that night brought with it a roar of noise and heat and steam. Even now, he could hardly believe they had found such furious physical accord, that they had torn into each other the way they had. That night had held the force of a speeding train.
And Tyler had not recovered. He'd taken refuge in his arrogant, morally correct world and gone into a state of deep denial about his hunger for her. A hunger he had been able to deny neatly until he kissed her this afternoon. And then he'd turned into a caricature of a lustful man, unable to think about anything but having her, unable to do anything without trying to meet his own selfish need of her.
But even now, he ached. Even now, all he wanted was to lie down next to her, flesh to flesh, and tumble into the narcotic world of sensual pleasure. The way he felt in this moment, he'd abandon himself to erotic addiction to Anna's body for the rest of his natural life.
Covering his face, he groaned softly. The trouble was, he didn't want a trembling, frightened Anna. He wanted her whole, and giving herself freely. Sex, married or unmarried, was not the sin. Coercion was. If he coerced her, he really would be no better than his father.
In the meantime, they would have to sleep together in the presence of Curtis, especially since there was only one bed in the cabin. Curtis would not understand if one of them slept on the couch, and anyway, that would get old real fast.
Tyler rose and turned off the lights. A truly moral man would be able to sleep beside a woman he desired and leave her alone. That would be his test.
Before he undressed, he turned off the bedside lamp. Through the windows came the soft grayness of a snowstorm at night. It gave the room a silvery, almost enchanted glow, and for a moment, Tyler admired it, feeling himself calm and center on the quiet of the falling snow. Nature had a way of putting everything into perspective.
He stripped to his boxers and climbed gently into the bed. Although he stayed as far as he could on his own side of the bed, it was impossible to completely ignore the warmth of her body on the other side. Impossible not to hear the even, steady whisper of her breath. Tyler resolutely closed his eyes, and when his mind was tempted to stray toward the delectable bit of woman nearby, he imagined the snowy sky, silent and peaceful.
 
Anna was awakened by the insistent press of light against her eyelids. Twice she tried to burrow back into the pillows, but no matter which way she turned, the light was bright and inescapable. Finally, she shifted and opened her eyes to a room bathed in the brilliance of bright morning sunlight sparkling against undisturbed snow. She blinked against it without moving, waiting for her brain to follow her into this world.
She stretched below the covers, and her foot encountered flesh. She turned over more completely. Tyler lay sprawled on his stomach, the covers tangled in a knot around his waist. The light had evidently not bothered him in the slightest, for he slept on obliviously.
Anna plumped her pillow a little and took the moment to observe him privately. The thick blond hair was scattered over his face and the pillow, and his jaw was bristly with unshaven beard. Even in sleep, he did not lose that guarded look, that wariness that surrounded him like a cloak, and it made Anna sad. Everyone should have the freedom of putting down his burdens while he slept.
She ached to touch him, to slide her palm down the smooth, supple length of his back, over the firm, wellformed shape of his backside. Where her toes had encountered his furred calf, she let them stay, since it had not disturbed him.
In this moment, he did not look like a prince. Only a man who had suffered too much, first at the hands of his father, then from the loss of his beloved wife. A man who lived too much alone, too far away from those who could have helped heal his wounds.
But somehow, Anna carried his child in her body. By magic or fate or the saints, she had been given the task of reaching out to him, of trying to shatter the walls he'd erected to protect himself—or, failing that, at least going behind the walls herself to keep him company.
It had been selfish of her to hold him at arm's length last night. She wanted him at least as much as he wanted her. It meant risking her heart, but she suspected that heart was already lost, and in the meantime, she might give them both joy to remember.
Hesitantly, she reached for him, and gave in to her wish to touch his warm, strong back. He stirred the smallest bit, and Anna scooted closer so that she could reach him better. She trailed her hand down his back, then, more daringly, over his hips and the lovely firmness of backside. It aroused her oddly, and she grew bolder still, brushing her hands down under the covers, over the backs of his thighs. He made a soft noise and shifted onto his side, but did not awaken.
Anna smiled to herself, and stilled until he fell deeply asleep again, taking pleasure in simply gazing at his face, at the crease on one cheek and the scatters of hair over his forehead. When she was sure he was fast asleep again, she ran her fingers down his chest, through the silky hair between his nipples, down his flat stomach, and wickedly lower, to the heavy flesh nestled between his thighs. It responded with a delightful little leap and, with a few more light, teasing brushes, grew solid and thrust against the light cotton shorts.
His hand closed around her wrist. “Anna, no.”
She looked at him. “I'm ready, Tyler. I was selfish last night. I want to make love to you.”
He closed his eyes, but did not release her hand. “I can't, Anna.” He swallowed. “I was dreaming of—”
“Don't say it.” She pulled out of his grip. Humiliated and burning with shame, she struggled with the covers. “I understand.”
Before she could bolt, he snagged her around the waist, hauling her close to his body in a cradling hold. Anna covered her face with her hands. “Let me go,” she whispered, holding herself rigid.
He stroked her hair. “I don't want to be thinking about another woman when I make love to you, Anna.”

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