Running Wild (33 page)

“Damn,” Nicholas whispered, “damn, but you feel good.” She
opened her eyes to find his countenance creased in a sort of tormented ecstasy.
He leaned in for a rough, bruising kiss as he started thrusting, building
excitement again.

“Nick . . . oh . .
. faster
.”

He inhaled sharply, moved to balance on his hands, and
rammed into her, harder, faster, a runaway caress taking her deeper and deeper
inside herself and pulling him along with her as pleasure swelled: impossible,
unbearable. His harsh breath, her light moans, drowned out the patter of the
rain, the crash of the waves. Everything, everything slipped away until the
world was just the two of them, joining, merging. . . She felt him shake, his
breath turned into a low, rumbling growl, and the explosion came, shooting them
to paradise. As her orgasm rolled over her in wave after wondrous wave,
welcoming him, he spilled inside her.

“Star,” he rasped, collapsing next to her, his arm lying
under her breasts. His breathing filled her ears as they lay there, tangled up
in each other.

“I suppose,” Star said, several minutes later, when the
world started to take form around her again. “I suppose you were correct. I
hadn’t seen anything yet.”

His deep chuckle warmed her ear. “Sure am glad to hear that,
ma’am,” he answered, in his best cowboy twang. “Wouldn’t want to be accused of
bein’ a liar and that’s a fact.”

Inhaling slowly, he rolled on to his side, propping his head
up on his hand. His eyes shone affectionately. “So maybe this time I did
justice to your expectations?” he asked with a wide smile.

She smiled back as love spread through her body to join the
glowing beauty of sexual fulfillment. “Oh no,” she answered, “for how could I
ever have expected
that
? I truly had no idea it could be so . . . oh
there are no words.”

“Well that’s a first, you unable to speak.”

“But look at what it took to bring me there!”

He smiled and reached up to push a stray piece of hair out
of her eyes. “Not so much, ma’am.” He made “ma’am” into a caress, filling her
heart to bursting. “Just two people finding a little enjoyment, is all.”

“A
little
? Good gracious, Nicholas if that’s a
little, I’m quite certain I should expire from a lot. And I am not a delicate
woman, as you well know!”

“No, you aren’t. Bet we could do it again in a little while,
and you wouldn’t suffer a ’tall.”

“Again?” she asked. “I hadn’t, thought . . . we could do it
a third time?”

“We could sure try.”

“I believe,” she said, her pulses starting to quicken, “I
believe I should like that.”

“O.K.,” he said. In one smooth move, he rolled to his feet.

“What are you doing?” She followed his movements with her
eyes. Oh, what a divinely rounded bottom—

“Getting under the sheets like most folk do when they’re
naked,” he replied, grasping the sheet.

“Ah.” She shifted to accommodate him. At his nod, she pulled
the sheet over her and he slipped in next to her. He felt so
right
. “And
so,” she ventured a ‘mite’ timidly. “All merriment aside, was it, well, the
same for you? It could not have been better for me, but. . .”

Emotion flashed through his eyes, warm and sweet. “Yeah, I
reckon it was as good for me,” he said. “What I mean is—damn I’m not good at
this kinda thing.” He took a deep breath. “This was the best, Star. Right here,
this. With you.” Vulnerability softened his eyes and his face, exposing a
tender inner core under all his cowboy toughness.

A lump rose in her throat as she reached out to touch his
face, sliding her thumb across his stubborn, stubbly jaw. “No doubt because you
were half-drunk,” she replied tentatively.

“I started sobering up as soon as you entered the room. It’s
not the alcohol. It’s you.”

She swallowed as she willed tears not to spring to her eyes.
“But your women back in Colorado . . . I’m sure they’re skilled in ways I am
not and can—”

Shaking his head, he stopped her speech with a finger to her
lips. “Shhh. No. No amount of skill can bring me where you just did. With you I
don’t need the rest.”

She reached up to take his hand in hers, caressing the back
of it with her thumb. “But, as you once told me, there is a great deal of
difference between need and want. And passivity, you must know, is not in my
nature. Perhaps you’ll teach me what it is you like?”

He chuckled. “No, you’re not passive, that’s for damned
sure. O.K., I’ll teach you, if that’s what you want. Later, though. I need time
to recover.”

He was amused, not shocked or appalled at her wanton
request. For all Nick’s stubborn conservatism, she had, from the very
beginning, felt entirely free to be herself with him and she loved him for it.
Loved him down to every last happy little nerve in her languidly satisfied
body. She let out a little sigh of contentment and wriggled closer to him.
“Good. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll rest my eyes for a bit. It never
occurred to me that such activity would be so wearing.”

Another chuckle. “Sure, you go ahead.”

“You’ll wake me, correct? So that we might ‘try’ again?” she
asked. Her eyelids were so heavy and it felt wonderful to let them fall shut.

“Sure enough.” Then darkness descended and she couldn’t for
the life of her keep sleep at bay.

***

Nick looked down at Star sleeping next to him. In the
shadows of the lamplight, she appeared several years younger than when awake.
Younger—and naked under that sheet. A body hardened with muscle from years of
tennis, rowing, biking and sailing, yet gently curved due to her love of
chocolate and port. A perfect female body, everything he’d fantasized about for
months.

He was in love. Madly in love and, as expected, lying with
Star had only deepened it. Heartbreak was coming his way, no two ways about it,
but, he thought, recollecting that incredible joining and their wild ride to
paradise, it was worth it. His blood heated and his heart fluttered at just the
thought of it. Entirely worth it.

Rolling onto his back, he cried calf rope, letting months of
tension seep from his muscles. Star had won, or passion had won, or maybe even
he had won, but he couldn’t fight it any longer. The prize wasn’t going to last
just one night, either. He was going to enjoy it for just as long as possible.
Wrong or right no longer mattered. It was what it was.

But he couldn’t do it here, he thought, picturing Ward and
Morgan. And Lee and Port. Sadness nipped at his heart. To have Star, he would
lose them all. He couldn’t have the family
and
the woman. He chose the
woman. Come tomorrow he’d move to a hotel. He only hoped they wouldn’t take
offense at whatever excuse he came up with for leaving.

Gaius Valerius Catullus, Carmina

Ibid

Heart tripping merrily, Star arrived at the bottom of the
stairs and moved on silver-lined clouds toward the breakfast room. Toward
Nicholas. Would he still be there? Had he slept as late as she had? If so,
she’d have just a roll and coffee for breakfast and then seek him out. She must
see him again, the sooner the better. Her whole body craved it.

The only occupant of the breakfast room was Port, sitting at
the table reading a newspaper and lingering over his morning coffee. Well, she
told her dampened spirits, it was, after all, past ten.

Nicholas had kept her awake until well past four.

A little thrill tripped over her nerves and down toward the
area he had stimulated so remarkably well the night before.

“Star. Rather late this morning, my dear,” Port said.
“Feeling poorly, are you? Father asked that I send a maid to check on you
should you sleep much later.”

“Why, no, just difficulty sleeping last night due to the
heat and thunderstorms,” she fibbed, strolling casually to the sideboard.

“I see,” Port said, but from the amusement flittering
through his voice, what he saw was quite different from what she hoped to
convey. “It was rather oppressive. Will you be attending the Lancaster’s dinner
tonight? I’m afraid Meredith and I must bow out. She is fatigued as well.”

Taking three rolls and a cup of coffee, Star strolled to a
chair opposite him, facing the ocean. “Is Meredith ill?”

A smile spread across Port’s face. “Not ill, really. It’s
not quite confirmed yet, but congratulations may be in order.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, eyes widening as warmth flooded her
already-full heart. “Another child? Oh Port, how wonderful!”

He fairly beamed at her. The expression dropped years from
his countenance, showing the twenty-six-year-old man that he was. “We’re
cautious as of yet. You know the difficulties she’s had in the past.”

“Yes, but then Charlotte was born, and as pretty and healthy
a child as ever I’ve seen! Oh Port,” she rose, unable to contain her joy. She
moved around the table to bestow upon him a large hug. He rose, too. His arms,
hard and strong despite his pretense at fashionable gentility, held her tightly
for a brief moment. As he stepped back, she saw an unusual brightness in his
eyes, which brought tears to hers. She wiped them away, chuckling. “Now will
you look at my silliness? Do you think you may have a son this time?”

“At present I would be most satisfied for a healthy child
and an easy confinement. So you will attend the dinner? McGraw mentioned that
he still planned to go.”

Her heart jumped. “Why should he not?”

A guarded, contemplative expression settled on Port’s face.
“Why, because of his change of residence.”

Her eyebrows shot up as her heart took another leap, this
one not at all pleasant. “Change of residence?”

“He didn’t tell you? He removed himself this morning to The
Oceanside.”

The Oceanside. But no . . . . Good God,
no
! Oh, not
possible, she thought as the world spun slightly and she grabbed for the back
of the chair next to her. “But . . . but,” she sputtered, “why would Father
allow that? The talk—people will claim that we’ve alienated him.”

“Why, yes, Father mentioned that.” He studied her with a
knowing eye. “Nick responded that he’d never stayed in a ‘grand’ hotel other
than in Saratoga Springs, and he wished to partake of the experience. He
expected Society would attribute it to his peculiar Western ways, and he
earnestly wished that we still consider him as our guest.”

Star, slightly dizzy, pulled out the chair and sat down.
Port continued staring down at her. “He hasn’t left Newport, Star,” he said at
length. “He’s only left the house.”

“Yes, but . . . you don’t think I’ve run him off, do you?”
she asked, raising her head.

His dark eyes, usually so cool, filled with heartfelt
compassion. “No. Sometimes a man requires independence. You of all people
should understand that.”

“Yes,” she said on a pained sigh, for Port was incorrect.
She
had
run him off. Too forward, too brash. Too tall, too aggressive,
altogether too mannish. No doubt for all his assertion to the contrary,
Nicholas didn’t care for the body of a woman with so much muscle. For once, she
thought swallowing back tears, she wished she were thin and wan and demure. Oh
why, oh why must she love athletics so much? Why couldn’t she be a natural
woman, inclined to needlework and—

Port laid a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be there tonight.
Once you talk to him, you’ll feel better.”

She doubted it. “Thank you, Port. I’m sure you’re correct.”

***

Nick moved casually around the enormous, gaudily decorated
parlor, nodding and stopping to chat here and there to the other thirty or so
dinner guests, the way two months of high-society life had taught him.
Gradually he made his way to the group surrounding Star, where he carefully and
discreetly culled her from the herd. “Nicholas,” she said when they were alone.
“You left without so much as a goodbye.”

The moment she’d entered the room, he’d marked the hurt in
her eyes, battling with barely-concealed accusation. He’d expected it and had
conjured up several speeches to sooth that pain, to explain in person what he’d
not been able to do in five drafts of a letter. Letters could be found and
read. But now with her so near, dressed in a dark red, low cut gown, which
displayed her breasts in a way that would
not
be discreet out West,
words failed him. Her scent mixed with the ocean air flowing through open
windows and heated memory washed over him, of the taste of salt on her skin,
and her nipples tickling his tongue, of her head dropping back as her moans of
delight danced in his ears.

She raised an eyebrow. “Nicholas?”

“I thought it best to leave,” he answered in a voice
roughened by desire. He coughed to clear his throat.

Her Cheshire grin slowly curled her lips—she’d read his
face. Even through the pain still lurking in her eyes, answering desire gleamed
back at him. “I see,” she said.

She didn’t. Drawing a deep breath, he took her arm and
walked her a few more paces from the other guests, into a corner. His heart
hammering, he leaned forward, toward her ear. “I had to after last night,” he
said in a low voice.

He was so close that he felt a shudder run through her body,
pulling gently at her muscles. Muscles pillowed in velvet-soft skin. He
clenched his jaw as he fought his body’s instinctual response.

“Was it so bad, then?” she asked.

“Bad?” he repeated in shock. “
No
! Why would you think
that?”

She lifted her head, her eyes light brown in the dimness of
the corner. “I can divine no other reason for your sudden escape.”

He could feel the heat of her desire. All he could think of
doing was pulling her into his arms and kissing her until they were both wild.
He fought the urge, while hunting through his brain for words to ease the pain
still lingering in her eyes. They eluded him, and as the time ticked away, the
need to hold her grew so strong that his muscles ached. He shoved his hands in
his pockets to stop them from reaching for her and found the duplicate key to
his room. Glancing around the parlor, he withdrew it. He reached for her hand.
She watched him as he unfolded her fingers and dropped the key in her palm.