My One And Only (21 page)

"That's an understatement. But I guarantee I
wouldn't have been nearly so calm if the roles were reversed. You'd have been peeling me off the ceiling."

"I'll remember that."

He seemed slightly off-kilter, as if he didn't quite know what to do with himself. Abby decided to forge ahead. "And thank you for what you did last night." At his puzzled look, she felt her skin flush. "About turning me down, I mean. I don't think I was in a good place to make that offer."

His expression was unflinchingly intense. "It wouldn't have been fair."

"I guess not," she said, wishing he'd said more. Wishing he'd gushed out an explanation about how he'd wanted to, really wanted to, but he'd forced himself to walk away and then paid for it all night by pacing the floor and fighting a Herculean battle with his self-control. With a slight smile, she took a few more sips of her coffee. She really had it bad.

Ethan turned his head to gaze out the window. Abby studied the fine lines of his chiseled profile. He reminded her more than ever of a Roman gladiator, alone and stoically brave in the face of his own personal tragedy.

Her heart ached for him, practically overwhelmed by her love of him in that moment. What would she have done all these years if she hadn't had the freedom to rage at fate while she
grieved over the loss of her parents? Why had no one ever loved Ethan enough to set him free? Her heart raced as she acknowledged how much she yearned to be the one who'd hand him the key. An inner voice cautioned that-the inevitable storm that would follow had the potential to break her heart. But a stronger voice insisted that her heart was a small price to pay when his life seemed to be at stake.

With that realization, a calm assurance and a clear sense of purpose settled on her. She'd proved to herself in the past ten years that the pain of loss didn't outweigh the joys of living— and that she was strong enough to take risks. She would reach this enigmatic, unapproachable man and show him all the riches of life. If she got hurt in the process, she'd always have the memories to sustain her. "Ethan?"

"Hmm?" He didn't look at her.

"I'm feeling much better."

"I'm glad."

"I'm in my right mind."

He still didn't look at her. "I can see that."

"So would it be fair now?"

He didn't move. She wasn't certain why she sensed a sudden stillness about him. The black panther, she mused, was poised to strike. And, God help her, she wasn't even worried about being the slowest and fattest gazelle. "What did you say?"

She touched his arm. "I said, would it be fair now?"

When he turned his face to her, the look in his eyes took her breath away. "Be absolutely certain, Abby," he said slowly. "I'm not going to say no a second time." His voice sounded stark with need.

A good sign, she thought. She eased carefully away from him, keeping her gaze trained on his face. He held out a hand to her. It trembled, she noticed, and found it odd that he would be the one with tremors. She smiled at him softly and placed her hand in his. "I'm sure," she said.

His fingers closed on hers in a crushing grip. He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. "I won't hurt you," he promised. "You won't regret this."

He obviously had no idea how deep her feelings ran for him, she realized, or he wouldn't have needed to make that promise. She could never imagine regretting something as profound as what she knew she'd share with Ethan. "I know," she assured him, and reached for the buttons of his shirt. "You wouldn't let me."

A violent tremor raced through him. Like a pre-volcanic eruption, she mused.
"
Upstairs," he said, his voice slightly hoarse, "there's a bed."

Abby placed a hand on each of his shoulders and brought him slowly against her. "Maybe we'll get to it later today."

Something seemed to galvanize him then. He collapsed back on the couch, pulling her with him. Abby felt the amazing sensation of his strong, rough hands as they skimmed her flesh. She began flicking open the buttons of his shirt. He kissed her deeply, intently, as if he couldn't get enough of her taste. "God, Abby, can you imagine how much I want you?"

She worked his shirt open—no easy task while the button, clung to the wet fabric. Little frissons of pleasure were raising the goose bumps on her skin. His chest felt as hot as the rest of him. "I think I've waited forever."

He thrust a hand beneath her shirt and cupped her breast. "You set me on fire."

She hoped so. Lord, how she hoped so. "It's the same for me," she said, feeling a sense of wonder.

Ethan kissed her again. He showed her the entire repertoire of emotions he could put into a kiss. She felt his hunger and answered it with her own, pressing herself tighter to him. When he groaned her name against her mouth, she nipped his lower lip with her teeth.

He dragged his mouth from hers. "Let me slow down," he told her. "There's plenty of time."

She yanked his shirt free of his jeans. "No. Don't. Please don't."

He kissed her once more, but soon broke the delicious contact. His hand traveled down her ribcage and over her hip. "It's too much. Too fast."

"Not enough," she corrected him, and sank her teeth into his earlobe. Ethan released a harsh breath, then abruptly flipped her beneath him.

"Lord, Abby, you're driving me crazy."

She wedged her thigh between his. "Then don't stop. Please don't ever stop."

His hands and his mouth were everywhere at once. He unbuttoned her shirt and peeled it back, gazing at her with a look that stole her breath. "Spectacular," he murmured and dipped his head to kiss the hollow of her throat. His tongue found the wildly beating pulse at the juncture of her collarbone.

Abby gasped as he overwhelmed her with a spikin
g passion that made her skin burn
. She believed she could feel her blood pressure climb. Her heart was beating a mad rhythm. She'd never felt like this. Vaguely, she remembered thinking that she was supposed to be overwhelming him, stripping away his restraint. She hadn't counted on the tables being reversed. She hadn't imagined experiencing this relentless sense of need that drove her to unparalleled heights. She reached for the button of his jeans. His hand closed over hers and held it to his bare chest. "Not yet," he said gently.

"Now," she said, beginning to feel frantic. "Oh, Ethan, please,
now."

He jerked his mouth from hers and rolled away from her. She felt swamped and overcome by the
sudden rush of cold air. He placed one hand on her belly and ripped open the button of his jeans with the other. He made quick work of the zipper before he peeled off the denims. He stopped to place a kiss where his finger rested on her stomach. "I need something," he explained, and grabbed his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

Abby reached for the cool, damp leather billfold and opened it for him. Ethan produced a foil packet, which she snatched from his hand and tore open. He finished the job. He kissed her, hard. "Are you—"

She grasped his hips with her hands. "Oh, yes."

Ethan covered her mouth and claimed her in a move of seamless grace that took her all the way to paradise.

H
is throat felt raw, he realized as he shifted gingerly on the sofa and
nestled a sleeping Abby against
him. The scratchy feeling owed itself to the hoarse shout that had erupted from his chest the moment Abby had given him unimaginable bliss.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Ethan understood how passion had driven his mother to desperation, and why she'd allowed it. The turmoil of the previous night had still kept him off balance when Abby had awakened this morning. She would probably never know what it had cost
him to walk away from her when she'd been so very willing and so very vulnerable.

At least he had that for comfort. He'd managed to cling to his self-control long enough not to take advantage of her. This morning, however, she'd been fully aware of what she was doing. Honor hadn't demanded that he turn her down. Had he known, however, that she was about to send him hurtling over a cliff, stark fear might have sent him running.

He'd never experienced the mind-numbing release he'd had with Abby. Like a match to kerosene, her gentle touch had set off a conflagration. He'd lost control of it almost immediately. He'd rushed to the end with little or no thought for her pleasure. Thank God, he thought with bitter self-condemnation, that he'd had the presence of mind to protect her. He'd demanded everything, taking whatever he wanted and dragging her along with him. While Abby, the most generous woman he knew, had given it all to him.

He'd known the minute he'd joined with her that whatever experience she'd had was limited at best. She'd been exquisite, and innocent, simultaneously soft and strong. She'd welcomed him with a soft cry that had ricocheted off his nerve endings and carried him to new heights. How could he have known that the fierce embrace of an unpracticed but giving woman would have quantu
m
power compared with the practiced seduction of the sophisticated women of his past?

He closed his eyes and softly caressed her shoulder with his fingertip. Like the bastard he was, he'd taken everything she'd offered with no consideration of her needs. There had been no slow, building passion. He'd given her no chance to stop him—or even to slow him down, for that matter. He'd muttered a few obligatory phrases, but he'd known, even then, that the words were empty. He could no more have halted the roar of passion in his blood than he could have kept the sun from rising.

He'd overwhelmed her, and while she might be resting against him now, with her fingers curled gently on his chest, soon she would resent the hell out of him.

That idea left him feeling unaccountably morose. Ethan dropped his head back against the sofa arm with a low groan.

"Ethan?" Her voice was soft, like the rest of her.

"Um?"

"Are you all right?"

Hell, no, he thought glumly. "Why?"

"You groaned." She shifted so her chin rested on his chest. "I thought maybe I was making you uncomfortable."

"You're not." If, he added silently, you don't count the fact that my damned body is already
starting to respond to you. He was supposed to be too old for that.

"I had no idea
,"
she said quietly, and a soft blush spread over her face. "I mean—it's never been like that."

Recriminations flooded him. He accepted them as his due and prepared himself for the worst. He smoothed a hand down her bare arm. "I'm sorry, Abby," he told her.

Her eyes widened in momentary confusion. "You're sorry?"

In the morning light, with her hair tumbled around her shoulders, she looked better than any fantasy he'd ever had. He gently touched one of the golden curls on her shoulder. "I didn't give you enough time."

Abby frowned then and struggled to sit up. She pulled the cotton throw around her shoulders. "I
see.
"

"I should have paid more attention."

"You weren't paying attention?"

She wasn't going to make this easy for him, he realized. He should have known she wouldn't be the type to back down—not when he'd seen her ready to do battle with Harrison on his behalf. Guilt roiled around in his gut and started to eat away at him. "I wasn't paying enough attention to you," he clarified.

"Oh." Her eyebrows drew together. "What
were you thinking about, then?" She glanced at the ceiling. "I mean, if I need a coat of paint, I guess I could hire someone."

My God, he thought, was she actually teasing him? "That's not—"

She placed a hand on his chest. "You weren't doing something like analyzing your stock portfolio, were you? Because I could probably get over something like—oh, I don't know—your glancing around the room and seeing the crack in the wall near my door and thinking, Gee, she really ought to get that fixed. But I'm pretty sure I'd have to be
really
offended if you were concentrating on pork futures or something."

He stared at her. She drummed her fingers on his chest. "I mean, geez, Ethan, I've never even
seen
a pork future, but I'm pretty sure I'm more entertaining."

The teasing note in her voice felt like a hammer in his brain. "You are," he choked out. "I should have given you more."

Her lips curved into a sultry smile. "Oh, Ethan. Are you seriously trying to apologize to me?" He didn't respond. She placed a soft kiss on his lips. "In case you didn't notice, I wasn't exactly complaining."

Ethan twined a curl around his index finger. "I could have made it better for you."

Her sultry laugh twisted around his gut tighter
than the curl twisted on his finger. "Really?" There was nothing but wonder in the question. "Is that a promise?"

Slowly he began to absorb the incredible truth that not only had he not overwhelmed her, but, by some miracle, he'd actually managed to avoid screwing up this re
lationship. He rubbed his curl-
wrapped finger over the smooth skin of her shoulder. "There's so much more," he explained. "I wanted to take my time with you."