Only My Love (24 page)

"Can you?" he asked again, his voice just above a whisper.

"No."

She had never thought when she conceived her scheme for escape that it would bring her to this pass, yet against all reason she couldn't conceive of any other place she wanted to be. She understood now that she had been wrong about the articles in the Denver paper, not wrong about their content, but wrong about the significance she had attached to them. Ethan had given them to her for a reason, whether he realized it or not. She had misinterpreted the gesture. She thought he'd meant for her to trust him enough to make her escape. She knew now he'd meant for her to trust him enough to make her stay.

Ethan's hands slid under Michael's hair and rested lightly against the skin of her neck. Beneath the callused pads of his fingers she was incredibly soft. He stroked her from the back of her ear to the curve of her shoulder. His thumbs caressed the soft underside of her jaw. Her hair was a whisper against the back of his hands, silk against his knuckles.

"Touch me," he said. When he saw her hesitate his hands circled her wrists and lifted her fingers to his chest. "Here. Anywhere. If you don't touch me I'll come out of my skin." His eyes had gone from flint to smoke. "It will probably happen anyway."

Her fingers explored. Lightly at first, hesitantly, but not reluctantly. She wanted to touch him. When she was being honest with herself she could admit to wanting to touch him for a long time. Her palms curved over his chest, ran softly along his rib cage, and learned about the heat and tension of his flesh. She felt him suck in his breath as her fingers made a light pass across his abdomen. His skin retracted in anticipation of her touch.

"Yes," he said. "Just that way."

Her fingers slid along the edge of his jeans. Her hands disappeared behind his back and moved slowly over his skin. She felt the taut smoothness of him, the warmth and strength of him. Her stroking brought her flush against him and Michael knew the shape of Ethan by the planes and curves of her own body. And yet she had never been so aware of herself as when she was touching Ethan.

Her breasts were fuller, slightly swollen and tender, aching with the need to be caressed by his hands. Her belly felt flat and hard, full of tension. And her hips, where they were pocketed by his thighs, had an emptiness in their middle she only partially understood.

Ethan's hands drifted over the neckline of the nightshirt, his fingers sliding just beneath the material to whisper across her skin. She held her breath as he undid the first button. It made him smile.

He set her back slightly so that he could see what he was doing, enjoy what he was uncovering. He began to widen the gap in the neckline.

Michael's fingers curled around his wrists, gripping him tightly. Her dark green eyes were anxious, imploring. "Please," she said, a catch in the single word. "The lamp. Couldn't we..."

"Turn it back?" he asked.

She nodded.

"No." He didn't move and she didn't release her grip. "I want to see you," he said. "All this time... I've only imagined." He waited. Warm color tinged her skin. The fingers around his wrists eased slightly.

"All right."

He saw that she seemed surprised by her answer, as if she hadn't known she would say it until it was said, as if her response were against her will. He waited again, giving her a chance to change her mind. She didn't. In the end her hands slipped away from his. "It will be all right," he said softly, brushing her eyelids with his mouth. "I won't hurt you."

A small shudder swept through her. Her eyes fluttered open. "I know."

He nodded. "Then watch me," he told her. "Watch my hands on your skin."

Her eyes dropped from his face to his hands. His knuckles brushed the curve of her breasts as his fingers dropped to the next button. He undid it. His hands slipped inside the nightshirt and lifted slowly, caressing the smooth skin of her belly then cupping the underside of her breasts. The nightshirt slid off one shoulder. Ethan bent, his mouth took in the tip of her breast and sucked.

Michael's hands came to rest on Ethan's shoulders, not to push him away, but to clutch him. His mouth was hot and wet on her nipple, his tongue sweetly rough. The ache she felt in her breast was deeper now but somehow more deeply pleasurable. The nightshirt slid from her other shoulder as Ethan's mouth moved into the hollow between her breasts. Her fingers lifted and caught the ends of his hair. There was a little tug as she threaded between the strands, stroked, and learned the texture of it. She caressed the nape of his neck. She thought she heard him groan. She didn't trust what she heard anymore, only what she felt. And she knew she felt the hard press of his mouth to her skin in that moment.

The nightshirt fell to the floor. Ethan's arms curved around her back and below her hips. He lifted her easily and set her down on the bed, following her with his body. Pushing her back, he stretched out beside her.

One hand rested against her waist. His thumb made a slow arc across her skin.

"So soft," he said. "You can't even know..." He bent his head and touched his mouth to her collarbone. His tongue made a small damp spot on her skin. Brushing aside her hair, he nuzzled her neck. His lips teased her skin, drawing it into his mouth, sucking gently. She stirred restlessly beside him. He moved one leg to trap her and his hand slid from her waist to her hip. His fingers curved around her buttock and pressed against her flesh.

Ethan continued to tease her with his mouth. He traced the line of her throat, her jaw, tickled her ear with his tongue. He held her head immobile while he kissed her feathered brows, her eyelids, the arch of her cheeks. When he finally settled his mouth over hers she was hungry for the taste and feel of him.

The kiss she returned was hard. No longer just sweetly eager, Michael was fully responsive, opening her mouth under his to return the fullness of his kiss measure for measure. It was she who pressed for a deeper kiss, sweeping her tongue along the line of his teeth and into his mouth. When she moved this time it was not to get away but to get closer. Michael arched against Ethan's chest, slipping her arms around his shoulders, keeping her fingers threaded in his hair. The pressure of his body was an exquisite sensation everywhere he touched her. She rubbed against him.

"Whoa," he chided softly, raising his head. The centers of her eyes were black as polished ebony and so large there was only a sliver of emerald surrounding them. Her mouth was damp and beautifully swollen. He kissed her lightly. Then again. "God, you're sweet. I don't think—" He didn't finish as he started to sit up.

"Ethan?"

He bent again and kissed her swiftly. "I have to get these boots off. The jeans, too. And if I don't slow us down I won't be able—" He cursed softly as the left boot proved to be a tougher customer than the right one.

Michael was unhappily aware of her naked body stretched out on top of the bed. When Ethan had been covering her it didn't seem so brazen somehow. With his back turned as he worked on the boots, Michael slipped between the sheets. They were cool to her flushed skin. "Won't be able to what?"

"Won't be able to last more than three seconds inside you," he said bluntly.

"Is that so bad?"

He looked over his shoulder while he worked off his jeans. One of his dark brows was arched skeptically. "It is if you want any pleasure." He saw her frown. Her well-kissed mouth flattened just a little. Ethan managed to kick off his jeans. They cartwheeled in the air and landed on the wing chair. Turning back the lamp, Ethan slipped under the sheet and comforter and warmed Michael's feet with his. "Is that it, Michael?" he asked, searching her out with his hands. His thumb brushed one nipple. The sound she made in the back of her throat was still audible. "Is that why you explode in my arms? No man's ever pleasured you?"

"No man," she whispered. She felt the heat of his mouth. She closed her eyes and knew that in another moment he would touch her with his lips. His tongue would be sweet and insistent and curious. She would give him whatever he wanted. "I
do
explode in your arms." She wasn't sure she liked the idea.

"You don't sound happy about it." That, at least, he understood. She thought he was a robber and a murderer. She was denying every value she held dear so she didn't have to deny him. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want her to think about it. That's why he kissed her hard and long and sweet and deep.

Ethan's knee insinuated itself between Michael's legs. His hand trailed lightly from her breast to her thighs. He cupped her mound with his hand and pressed when she jerked against him reflexively. "It's all right," he whispered, taking her mouth again. His fingers sought her out, searching, stroking, pleasuring. She was moist and warm. He wanted to use his mouth but he held back and was satisfied for now with the urgent sounds she could not contain.

He moved so she could feel how hard he was against her belly. He wanted to be inside her desperately. Instead he used one finger. She gasped. Her fingers dug into his upper arms but her body accommodated his seeking. Her movements became less restless and more purposeful.

"That's it," he encouraged as she moved her hips against him. "Will you take me now?"

"Yes." The sound was a little eager, a little panicked. Ethan's mouth was on her breast then, soothing the panic, playing to the eagerness. He laved her nipple with his tongue, worried the bud between his lips and tugged. Tension radiated just under the surface of her skin. She felt it in the tips of her fingers, in the length of her legs, and most especially between her thighs where his hand continued its intimate caress.

Ethan moved over her, covering her with his body just for a moment. The sheet slipped down his back as he positioned himself between her thighs. He helped her raise her hips and before he realized she was clutching the sheet in a white-knuckled grip, he was inside her.

She was so tight. Too tight. And he knew he was hurting her when it was the very thing he promised not to do. He held himself very still, denial making his features hard, and his eyes, even in the dim light, burn with a blue-white intensity.

"Why?" he asked as he felt her try to accommodate him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Michael couldn't pretend she didn't know what he was asking. Her fears of being too clumsy to pass as experienced were borne home. If he didn't know for certain, he at least suspected that until a moment ago she'd been a virgin. "I didn't know it would bother you," she said. She squirmed slightly under him.

He practically growled. "For God's sake, don't move."

"You said yourself no man had ever pleasured me."

"I didn't mean that no man had ever had the opportunity."

It didn't seem prudent to tell him to be more clear in the future.

Chapter 7

"Ethan?" She said his name hesitantly. Her hands came up to touch his face. She felt the tension in his features beneath her fingertips. "Don't you want me now?"

He shut his eyes and tried not to think of how good it felt to be inside her with her hands on his face and her legs curved against his thighs. Even as he started to withdraw he felt the hot, moist center of her tighten around him. "What I didn't want was everything complicated by a virgin." He swore as her body, probably without her even being aware of it, tightened around him again. He couldn't contain the thrust that followed. He was aware that Michael moved with him. "Michael," he said. "Tell me to stop."

"I told you I wouldn't," she said. More softly she added, "And I'm not a virgin anymore."

Her husky voice did what her hands and legs couldn't do: pushed Ethan over the edge. "It's that sweet mouth of yours," he said, slanting his mouth across hers. "It's always getting you in trouble."

His thrust was hard and sure. He wanted to take his time, to draw out the pleasure. It was much too late for that. He needed to take her swiftly, needed to feel, not think. His hips quickened as a force outside himself seemed to take over. The pleasure was there because Michael met him thrust for thrust, hungry and as needy as he. That loving could be so mutually greedy and satisfying was a new experience for Ethan. Her hands clutched and caressed him, her mouth tasted and teased, and when she reached the point of pleasure's end her mouth opened under his and he felt the rush of tension pass from her into him. His name was on her lips. He swore he could taste her wonderment. The shudder that shook her became his a few moments later. She stroked his hair as he spilled his seed.