Improper English (18 page)

Alex doubled over and whooped as I shuffled toward him. I had adopted a hunched-over, Quasimodo sort of gait due to my hasty attempts to extricate myself from my garments.

“You’re just getting back at me over that little raincoat episode, aren’t you?” I tried to kick my feet free of underwear and dress as I manipulated my bra hook onehanded, finally releasing it, but pulling a clump of hair out in the process. “Ow! Damn! See what you did? Are you happy now? Now I’ve got a bald spot.”

Alex straightened up and gestured toward his groin. “It matches mine.”

“Hrmph. No one but me will see yours. At least,” I glared at him as he unbuckled my sandal and slid his hand up my calf, “no one but me had better see your bald spot!”

His hands continued to trace a path up my legs, his lips following, kissing higher and higher until both hands were on my head, rubbing the tender spot, while his lips were fluttering across mine, teasing me, igniting me, making me burn for him. I sent my own hands out on an exploratory mission, enjoying his groan of pleasure when I dug my fingers into his wonderful behind, pulling him closer to me, rubbing myself across the hardness of his arousal.

Somehow, without my being aware of moving, I was in the bathroom and he was turning on the water.

“Um…Alex…shouldn’t we be in the bedroom? Your bed has to be more comfortable than the floor.”

“Later,” he mumbled against the ticklish spot at the nape of my neck, his hands stroking down my back, over my behind, and up my sides to make my breasts ache with desire. His head dipped as he tasted first one, then the other nipple. I dug one hand into his shoulder as I arched my back so he could have better access, and cupped his balls with the other hand, squeezing and tugging with the gentle pressure I had found drove him wild.

“Alex, I really think the bedroom is a better choice than a cold bathroom floor.”

“We’re not going to be on the floor,” he said, his breath hot against my breastbone as he pushed me into the shower. “Haven’t you ever made love in a shower?”

The water was lukewarm, body temperature, not hot but not cold. He backed me up against the wall of the shower, covering me with his wonderful heat, the hairs on his chest tickling my breasts until we were both wet.

“Um…not really. I guess the closest I came to sex in a shower was when a boyfriend made a banana split out of me.”

Alex paused in the act of soaping up a washcloth and raised one adorable eyebrow.

“You know, with whipped cream and chocolate sauce and cherries. It was really messy, but this…are you sure about this? It’s kinda different, isn’t it? You’re not going to suddenly turn all kinky on me, are you? Because if you are, I think you should know I’m a white bread kind of girl when it comes to sex.”

He leered and rubbed his soapy hands up my belly to my breasts, soaping my entire front. “You’ve told me to loosen my control, sweetheart. This is as loose as I’m going to get.”

His hands slid down my back, moving like hot silk over my skin as he made sure every bit of me was lathered up. The feeling of his hands running up my legs almost made my knees buckle, especially since I knew where those hands were headed. Inside me, deep inside me, the fire he started spread its heat, warming me, readying me to receive his most intimate touch. His fingers spread and swirled an intricate serpentine path up my
thighs, pausing once to re-soap before continuing their dance up to my center.

“Open your legs for me, love,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. I moved enough to give him better access, and gasped when his fingers slid along me, teasing me, parting me and dipping inside to feel the heat he was generating.

“Christ, you’re hot,” he moaned against my neck, his breathing almost as ragged as my own. I wanted to touch him as well, to do the things he was doing to me, to make him wild and uninhibited, but I could do nothing more than cling to his arms, unable to speak when his fingers danced their magic dance, building my desire and pleasure until I thought I was going to scream from the sheer joy of it.

“Alex, please,” I whimpered, unsure of what it was I begged for, but knowing that whatever it was, only he could give it to me.

“I can’t wait, love,” he groaned, nibbling on my neck, his hands gliding around behind me, grasping my behind and pulling me upwards. “I’ve thought about you all morning, thought about the taste of you, how your skin feels, and how you feel when you tighten around me. I want you now, Alix. Wrap your legs around me.”

He hoisted me higher up his chest as I locked my legs around his waist, pressing my back against the wall as he held onto my hips. Gently, with a slowness I thought would kill me, he entered me, parting me easily, filling me and making me complete. I nibbled and kissed at his lips until he gave me what I wanted, then suckled his tongue as he rumbled his pleasure deep in his chest. I flexed my legs around his waist, crying out my discontent
when he slid out of me, then repeating my cry, this time of joy, when he filled me again.

“Christ, I’m not going to be able to take my time,” he gasped as I dug my fingernails into his shoulders and lightly scored his back. “I’ve tried, but I’m not—ah, God, I’m sorry, Alix. This is going to be fast.”

He groaned loudly into my mouth as he slammed deep into me, his control snapped, his body taking over from his mind. My body responded likewise, matching his frenzied rhythm, my heart racing with his as we struggled against each other, trying to push each other higher, closer to that one moment of bliss, the moment when we would be joined by a means far more profound than just the physical. He rocked into me as I thrust back at him, his dark, heated words of praise heavy in my ears, stirring my soul until he possessed all of it, all of me, merging with me so when we climbed to that last peak, that moment of profound pleasure, there weren’t two people making love in a shower, there was just one glorious creation that was the best part of both of us.

Alex’s roar of pleasure reverberated through me, crescendoing above the sound of the shower, echoing in my heart as I gave him the only gift I had to offer.

“I love you, Alex,” I gasped against his neck, kissing the wet skin of his collarbone. “I love you.”

His head turned until his lips were almost touching mine. Spiky dark brown eyelashes framed eyes so green they would make a leprechaun weep. I know he heard my whispered confession, I could see the mingled passion and doubt in his eyes, but he said nothing.

The warm water continued to pour around and over us as he kissed me and held me tight against him until my trembling legs could stand on their own again, the
words of love I’d spoken hanging portentously in the humid air.

Until I looked down.

“Aw, hell! We forgot your raincoat!”

“Fool!” Rowena railed to herself as she paced the length of her damp prison. “I am a thousand times a fool!”

“Oh, say that not, my lady!” cried Babette, Rowena’s little maid as she clung to the latch on the iron-banded door that kept them prisoners in the Mysterious Spaniard’s subterranean crypt. In between pounding on the door for help, she spoke. “ ’Twas not your fault that the Mysterious Spaniard overheard your declaration of love to Lord Raoul! ’Twas fate that brought us this low, not love, my lady. Never love. Above all, do not deny your love for Lord Raoul! Why, love is a wonderful and grand emotion—”

“Be quiet,” Rowena snapped, dismissing the maid’s unwelcome words. “Love is foolishness. Love is folly. I do not love anyone, least of all Lord Raoul. I was temporarily insane when I told him that, swayed by his overwhelming and extremely pleasing manly attributes and
suchlike. Love? Ha ha! I laugh at the very thought of it! I’ve never heard of anything so foolish in all…my…days!”

As I read the last few words my voice took on a piercing, strident tone that made me flinch, but I gritted my teeth against the need to apologize for it, and instead sat quiet, waiting for the prognosis. When none was forthcoming, I felt it behooved me to prod my audience into speaking.

“That’s as far as I am now. It’s almost to the end—Lord Raoul will save Lady Rowena from Lord Thomas—he’s the Mysterious Spaniard in disguise—and that’s it. My agent thinks she has a publisher who will like it.”

I sent my gaze from the familiar planes of Alex’s face across the heavy oak table where a man sat in a shimmering pool of shadows cast by the candles that were the only lighting in the room. Daniel, Alex’s writer friend, was a recluse who seldom ventured out of his house. At first I had thought access might have something to do with his hermit-like state, since he was confined to a wheelchair, but as it turned out, he just preferred to remain alone, visiting with friends around the world via the Internet, and watching the several thousand movies in his personal movie collection.

That didn’t let him off the hook as far as giving me his opinion about my book, however. “Um…Daniel? I realize that I only read a chapter to you, but what do you think so far? Does it have promise? I know it’s not perfect, and it’s a bit rough in parts, but everyone I’ve asked seems to like it.”

I leaned forward as I spoke, hoping to get a glimpse into his eyes so as to better judge whether his response was merely polite, or if he really meant what he said. It
helped that he had lovely velvety brown eyes that seemed to hold eons of wisdom in them. Alex had told me on the way over to Daniel’s flat that he was originally from Rhodesia, his family having fled to England during one of the more violent political coups. Considered an ignorant native by prejudicial school systems, Daniel had triumphed over adversity to emerge as one of Britain’s strongest voices in fiction, his books selling as popularly in the U.S. as they did in England.

Daniel sat still as a rock. I leaned over to the other end of the table to ask, “Is he breathing?”

A bark of laughter from the dark corner confirmed that Daniel was still with us, but Alex wasn’t about to be distracted by a minor thing like a sense of humor. His long fingers turned a glass of wine around and around in his hands. He wasn’t drinking it, just periodically frowning into the golden depths as if seeking some insight. “Alix, I warned you earlier it wasn’t fair to ask Daniel’s advice about a type of book he doesn’t write, and, I assume, doesn’t read as well. It’s like comparing apples and oranges.”

“No, it’s not,” I interrupted, smiling apologetically on Alex’s behalf at the shadowed figure of Daniel. “Good writing is good writing—you can recognize it no matter what the genre. Right, Daniel?”

“That may be so, but you’re still putting him in an untenable position.”

I turned back to Alex, narrowing my eyes at his innuendo. Blast the man, couldn’t he see I was trying to establish a writerly rapport with his friend? That’s why he had brought me to meet Daniel, wasn’t it? Didn’t he know how important this was to me? And just
what
was
he hinting at? “Are you saying that I’m putting him on the spot because my writing sucks?”

“No, of course not, but you must admit that it’s not very…erm…”

I gasped as the full intent of his words hit me. “You are, too, that’s exactly what you’re saying, you think my story is awful, don’t you, you pompous…jaded…
non-reader!”

His lips thinned. “You’re putting words in my mouth again, Alix, but this time I’m not going to let you blame me. If you want to work yourself up over something so trivial—”

“Trivial?
Trivial?
My writing career is not trivial!”

“I never said it was,” Alex snarled at me, slamming down his glass of wine. I expected to see the stem shatter, but it was well made and just vibrated a warning.

“That’s what it sounded like to me! You said my writing was trivial—”

“Christ!” Alex shoved a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. “Will you stop attributing your insecurities and self-doubts to me? All I said was that you were working yourself up over something trivial—namely my opinion of your story.”

“Your opinion isn’t trivial, dammit! And what insecurities and self-doubts? That’s insulting in the extreme! I don’t have insecurities and self-doubts! I’m the most secure person I know!”

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he unclenched his teeth long enough to say, “Alix, you’re taking this far too personally. All I said was that Daniel might not care to comment on something he’s unfamiliar with. Literary criticism is difficult enough—”

“Ha!” I snorted, hurt by his cruel words. I wasn’t insecure. I simply faced up to my flaws, admitting them rather than hiding them. “That’s rich coming from a man who probably couldn’t critique his way out of a paper bag. Go ahead, tell us all about it, Alex. I’m sure you’ve picked up lots of critiquing skills staring at pictures of naked women pleasuring themselves with garden produce!”

“You insist on taking this personally.” Alex shook his head in mock sadness. I spat out an invective as I got to my feet, marching over to where he sat so I could poke a finger into his chest.

“Why not, you just told me my writing stinks!”

“I didn’t,” he growled, his eyes glittering in the halflight as he pushed back his chair and rose, towering over me. “But if you insist on pressing the issue, I will tell you exactly what I think of it.”

“Well, you’ll notice no one is asking your opinion, Detective Bloody Inspector Blackheart!” I poked him in the chest again, just to annoy him. It worked.

“That’s a damn good thing, too!” he said.

“Oh, yeah? And just what is
that
supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what you think it means!”

“Ahem.”

We both turned to look at the head of the table where our host sat.

I turned back to Alex, my hands on my hips. “Well, hell. Now see what you’ve done? You’ve made me lose my temper in front of your friend. I hope you’re happy, Mr. Never Make a Scene!”

I marched back to my chair and mustered a ragged smile for Daniel. “You’ll have to forgive Alex. He is, as I’m sure you know, the most aggravating of men, and
could drive the Pope into swearing a blue streak.”

“Alix—” came a warning growl from the other end of the table. I ignored it and kept my smile firmly aimed at Daniel.

“It was your opinion I was seeking, Daniel. I’m all alone in London, you see, and I have no one else upon whom I can call for assistance—”

“For Christ’s sake, I should have brought my violin.”

It took immense effort, but I didn’t react to Alex’s goading. Why he was in such an unreasonable mood, I didn’t know, but I suspected it had something to do with my admission of love the previous night. Men, I had found, always got touchy when the subject of love entered the picture. “As I was saying, I don’t have anyone else I can turn to for assistance with my book, so I would greatly appreciate it if you could give me a word or two of advice, and perhaps let me know what you perceive to be problem areas in the story.”

“I think…” The words rolled out of the corner almost as smoothly as the wheelchair glided forward into the light. I was relieved to see a smile on Daniel’s face. Thank God he hadn’t been offended by Alex making such a scene.

“Yes? You think…? What is it you think?” He was smiling—that had to be good!

“I know what
I
think…” came a mutter from the other person in the room.

Daniel pursed his lips. “I believe…”

I held my breath. Surely it couldn’t be criticism he had on his mind, not with that twinkle in his eye as he steepled his fingers under his chin and considered me.

“…and it has to do with certain people’s ability to twist every word I say into meaning something else…”

I frowned quickly at Alex’s unwelcome interruption, then sent a rapt gaze back toward the man to my left. “You believe…?”

“I’d wager…”

Oh, God, the suspense was killing me! I clung to the edge of the table, leaning forward and willing him to say it.

“…in her attempt to justify a self-fulfilling prophesy of doom…”

I whirled to the right for a nanosecond. “Alex, will you be quiet!” Daniel was grinning when I turned back to him. “What? What would you wager? For God’s sake,
WHAT?”

“…simply because she has commitment issues and doesn’t want to face that fact.”

“Oh!” I leaped out of my chair and slapped the flat of my hand down on the table as I leaned over Alex. “I do not have issues, commitment or otherwise, you horribly annoying man! You’re the one with all the issues! You’re anal and controlled and you wouldn’t know spontaneity if it danced on your thickheaded…er…head! Just because I’m willing to face reality while you live in your sheltered little world where nothing and no one ever touches you, don’t you dare tell me I have issues! You want to talk issues? I’ll talk issues—you’re so bloody rigid it’s a wonder you can sit!” I straightened up and glared at Daniel, who was shaking his head and laughing softly to himself. Men! They were universally aggravating. I took a deep breath and tried to keep the bellow from my voice. I wasn’t completely successful.
“Now what the hell were you going to say about my story?”

Daniel laughed even harder, wiping his eyes with the corner of his napkin, waving me back into my seat. “I’m
sorry, Alix, I didn’t mean to make matters worse, it’s just that you’re so very…”

He erupted into another bout of laughter. I picked up the tiny shrimp fork that lay across the top of my plate, weighing it in my hand, wondering how much damage it could do. “I’ll take you down with this cocktail fork if I have to, Daniel! Don’t think I won’t!”

He wiped his eyes again as he gave in to a big old belly laugh, sputtering and wheezing as he tried to speak around the laughter. “…you’re so very
perfect
for Alex!”

I stared at him for a moment, then looked at Alex. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your friend is a choice candidate for the booby hatch.”

Alex was still scowling over being called thickheaded. He ignored me and shot Daniel a surly look.

“No, truly, you two are perfect for each other. I can’t remember the last time I saw Alex lose his temper, really lose his temper, and over something so asinine, too.”

I bristled anew over the slanderous comment. “Well, thank you very much!”

He was quick to smooth over his mistake. He took my hand in his and kissed my fingers. “No, no, that was no insult, sweet Alix, it was a compliment I’m paying you.”

There was something sounding suspiciously like a low growl from the opposite side of the table.

Daniel covered my hand with his and squeezed gently. I smiled, a bit unsure about his method of doling out compliments, but unable to withstand the effect of his lovely dark eyes at close quarters. If our genders were reversed, I’d swear he was fluttering his eyelashes at me.

“I’m not surprised, however, that it took a woman as beautiful as you to get under his skin.”

Ah, flattery. It worked on me every time. I increased the wattage in my smile, deciding to remove Daniel from my mental list of pigheaded males even as I relegated to the top of the list the man rumbling ominously from the other side of the table.

“It would take a stronger man than he to withstand the seductive promise in your provocative, deeply mysterious eyes.”

“Oh,” I said, a bit flustered when he lifted my hand to kiss my fingers again. Seductive? Provocative? Mysterious? Me? His lips lingered over my knuckles, his dark moustache tickling as he did a little eye-flirting with me. “Oh.”

“Stop mauling her,” Alex growled.

Daniel smiled and winked at me as he released my hand. “He sounds jealous. Are you jealous because I was enjoying your pretty lady’s hand, Alex?”

“I’m not jealous.”

We both looked at Alex. He
looked
jealous. It made my heart flutter around and sing a happy little song about how wonderful it was when handsome green-eyed men ground their teeth and sounded like they were talking through gravel because they were positively seething with jealousy.

“Are you sure?” I asked, tipping my head to one side as I noted the muscle twitching in his jaw. “Maybe we should try it again, just to be sure.”

I held out my hand and wiggled my fingers at Daniel.

“Alexandra!” Alex bellowed, slamming a fist down on the table. I looked at Daniel and withdrew my hand.

“He’s jealous.”

“Yes, he certainly is,” Daniel agreed with a pleased nod. “That bodes well. Now, to get back to the—Alex,
calm down, we’re through experimenting with your newfound jealousy, tuck it away and rejoin civilized mankind—to get back to the question you asked me, Alix, I would be happy to give you my opinion, advice, and help with your manuscript, but I must read the whole thing. I couldn’t begin to offer any help based on just one chapter.”

The little voice in my head pointed out it was unreasonable to feel let down because Daniel hadn’t declared it the best novel since
Gone With the Wind
. Despite such sage advice, I had a hard time keeping my voice from sounding as disappointed as I felt. “Oh. I suppose that makes sense. I’ll drop the entire manuscript by tomorrow, shall I?”