The Gentling (15 page)

Katy lay mesmerized, unable to look away from that hard, sensuous mouth as it drew inexorably nearer. Warm breath feathered against her skin as he added softly, "I don't know how I managed to wait this long for my good morning kiss."

Then his mouth found its target. The kiss was exquisite, his lips moving over hers with great tenderness, coaxing, imploring, enticing. The tip of his tongue traced back and forth between her slightly parted lips, only just penetrating into the sweet moistness within, yet the tiny invasion was excruciatingly sensual and explosive. Its shock waves rocked Katy to her toes. Her soft mouth quivered beneath his as fear and intense pleasure battled for control.

Meeting no resistance, Trace leaned closer. His bare chest brushed the tips of her breasts through their thin covering as one hand closed possessively around the inverted curve of her waist. For an instant Katy's trembling fingers hovered just a scant inch from his chest. Then, drawn by a power beyond her control, they settled against the hard, muscled flesh and threaded hesitantly through the crisp hair that covered it.

Trace's instant response was a shuddering moan. The hand at her waist stirred as the pressure of his mouth increased.

Katy felt like a tightly wound spring, her body taut and quivering with conflicting emotions. She was terrified; she was thrilled. She wanted the kiss to end; she wanted it to go on forever. She wanted to wrench herself out of his arms and scream at him to leave her alone; she wanted to burrow closer, to melt into him, to become a part of him, to never let him go. It was hell; it was heaven.

Through the haze of fright and pleasure, Katy became aware of Trace's hand, moving slowly, caressingly up the side of her ribcage, then halting just under her arm, the heel of his palm against the side of her breast. Pressing ever so slightly inward, his hand began to move in tiny circles, massaging the soft flesh with a sensuous rhythm.

A choked gasp was wrenched from Katy's throat as she felt her breast swell against his palm. She stiffened, and instantly Trace withdrew.

The hand was removed as he raised his head and smiled down at her. "You see. That's all it takes, my love. I'll never push you farther than you want to go."

He lowered his head and brushed a feathery kiss across her mouth, then astonished her by throwing back the covers and springing out of bed. As he walked away toward the bathroom Katy's dazed eyes foamed over the rangy frame, noting distractedly that the thin pajama bottom hanging low from his hips did little to conceal his blatant masculinity.

When the door closed behind him, Katy stared at it in perplexity. How could he just turn his emotions off at will like that? She certainly couldn't. Every inch of her body still tingled from his touch. Of course, she was grateful that he had ended the embrace before things got out of hand, she told herself quickly. It was very reassuring to know that Trace truly did intend to keep his word.

Her eyes widened as she realized that was exactly what Trace had intended. His demand that she share his bed and this morning's warm, provocative lovemaking were his method of proving to her, right at the onset, that he could, and would, keep his word.

In the bathroom the shower started, and over the rushing noise she could hear Trace singing slightly off-key. Katy slid back down under the cover, smiling to herself as the tension began to slowly seep out of her. For the first time since she had accepted Trace's proposal, she actually began to feel optimistic about their future together.

After breakfast, which, to Katy's delight, was eaten on the balcony, Trace left the choice of activities up to her. Katy elected to spend their first morning on the beach. She had never even seen an ocean before and was as excited as a child when they stepped onto the white sand of Waikiki Beach. She even forgot to be self-conscious about appearing before Trace in a bathing suit, until, slipping out of the thigh-length beach robe, she looked up to find his eyes running over her hungrily, as though he would like to devour her on the spot.

She was wearing a form-hugging maillot in a shimmering, vivid blue that exactly matched her eyes. When she had tried it on at the store it had seemed perfectly modest, but now, as she watched Trace's eyes widen and flicker with some strong emotion, Katy was very conscious of the way the clinging material molded her high breasts and boldly defined the curving line of waist and hip.

In her heightened state of awareness Katy could actually feel the touch of that hazel-green gaze as it traveled the length of her body, from the thick ebony plait that lay over one shoulder, all the way down to the pink toes curling into the sand. When he raised his eyes to hers, Katy's heart jerked to a halt, then took off with a crazy, erratic beat. The look on his face was one of such desperate longing, such intense, burning desire that she felt her mouth go suddenly dry.

"My God, you're beautiful," he groaned huskily. "Even more beautiful than I imagined."

Katy stood frozen, oblivious to the other people on the crowded beach, her gaze caught and held by the liquid green fire in his. Her lips parted, and the tip of her tongue slid over them in unconscious provocation.

Trace drew a sharp breath, took a jerky step forward, then brought himself up abruptly. Snaking his head, he heaved a sigh. His mouth twisted in a rueful smile. "Come on," he murmured hoarsely, reaching for her hand. "Let's go for a swim before I do something I'm sure I'll regret later."

In the next instant he was racing toward the surf, dragging Katy along behind him. They hit the water at a dead run, and she squealed with shock at the coolness of it against her heated skin, but within seconds Katy felt as though she were surrounded by soft, warm silk.

Trace released her hand and they both dived into an oncoming wave. She made no attempt to keep up with him as his powerful body cleaved through the water ahead of her. Turning parallel to the beach, she swam at a leisurely pace, feeling marvelously free and relaxed. She kept at it as long as she could, but finally tired muscles forced her to stop for a rest. As she trod water Katy's eyes idly searched for Trace. When she failed to locate him she merely shrugged and flipped over onto her back.

A short while later, floating along with her eyes closed, completely lost to the world around her, Katy was brought suddenly and rudely awake when something closed around her ankle and tugged her downward. There was barely time for a short, terrified scream before the blue-green water closed over her head.

As she kicked out in blind panic her leg was released and a hard, sinewy body slid up hers. A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist, and with a powerful kick. Trace sent them both shooting upward toward the spangled sunlight.

Sputtering and gasping, they broke the surface. It took Katy several seconds to realize what had happened, but when she did her eyes shot sparks.

"Why you—you beast! You scared me half to death!" she ranted. She hit the water with the flat of her hand and sent a stinging spray into his grinning face. Trace quickly retaliated in kind, and the battle was on. With an indignant cry, Katy lunged forward and upward, coming down on his shoulders with all her weight, dunking him soundly.

For the next hour they played like two boisterous children. With mock anger, they tormented and teased one another unmercifully. It was an exhilarating new experience for Katy. Never before had she shared that kind of lighthearted fun with anyone, most especially not with a man.

Only once during their play did even a hint of sexuality break through, and that was so brief, so non-threatening that Katy had no time to object.

Popping up suddenly in front of her, Trace had pulled her against him and planted a swift, hard kiss on her mouth. Drawing back only slightly, he traced the tip of his tongue around the outline of her parted lips.

"Mmmm, delicious," he murmured thoughtfully. "A trifle salty, but delicious all the same." He held her close for just an instant, running his hands over the wet silkiness of her body with shocking expertise. Then, with a grin, he released her and streaked away.

Bemused, Katy stared after him. She tried to work up a bit of anger, but it simply would not come. Trace in this teasing, carefree mood was impossible to resist. Slowly, a small, wicked smile curved her mouth. With a decidedly determined gleam in her eye, Katy took a deep breath and set out after him.

Finally, exhausted, they stumbled from the water and collapsed onto the woven mats Trace had placed side by side on the sand earlier.

Katy's chest was heaving from her exertions as she patted herself dry. "I can't remember ever having so much fun," she said breathlessly. Her eyes sparkling, she tossed Trace a happy smile.

He stopped his own drying to give her a long, intent look. His expression was suddenly very serious. "That was only a taste of what it's going to be like for us, sweetheart," he said in a soft, sure voice. "I'm not saying our life together will be all fun and games, but it's going to be good, babe. I promise you that. Because, whether you know it or not, we belong together, Katy."

Katy felt a fluttering, uneasy sensation begin in the pit of her stomach. Trace's quick change of mood brought her down off the euphoric cloud with a bang. To cover her confusion, she picked up the bottle of suntan lotion and began to rub the creamy liquid methodically onto her arms and legs, letting the silence lengthen. She had no idea how to reply to his statement, so she simply said nothing.

She had finished anointing the front of her body and was about to recap the bottle when Trace took it from her.

"Roll oyer and I'll do your back," he instructed.

"Oh, no, I'll—"

"Don't be silly, Katy. You have very delicate skin, and I don't want to see it burned. And you needn't be afraid to let me touch you. I'm your husband. Remember?"

Reluctantly, Katy did as she was told. She felt the cool squiggle of lotion trail down her spine, then Trace's hands were moving, slowly, hypnotically over her skin. The maillot was practically backless, cut well below her waist. Trace made sure every inch of exposed flesh was covered. Katy's breathing was shallow, almost painful, as she felt the caressing touch of those calloused hands work the lotion over her shoulders and spine.

Suddenly Trace sat back on his heels and gave her a slap on the bottom. "Okay, now it's your turn."

When Katy looked up, startled, he stretched out on his stomach and handed her the bottle. "Be sure to put a lot across the top of my shoulders, will you," he instructed blithely. Ignoring her shocked expression, he rested his head on his crossed arms and closed his eyes.

Suspicion sparkled in her narrowed gaze as it ran over his bronzed form. Surely skin that deeply tanned didn't need any protection? Tight-lipped, Katy squeezed a generous mound of the white lotion into her palm and slapped it between his shoulder blades.

She had meant to keep her movements brisk and impersonal but as her hands made contact with his flesh, she faltered. The feel of hard muscle and bone beneath warm skin was strangely pleasurable, and Katy's hands, as though with a life of their own, began to move in a slow, massaging rhythm across the broad-shouldered back, her slender fingers kneading and flexing as they smoothed on the slippery lotion.

She became mesmerized by the task. She was only dimly aware of the other supine bodies stretched out on the sand, the steady rush and retreat of the roiling waves against the shore, the dry rattle of tattered palms. Entranced, she watched the hypnotic movements of her pale fingers against the tanned skin. A few loose tendrils of hair around her face lifted in the soft breeze. The sun was warm against her bare back. She breathed in slowly, deeply, her senses swimming. All around her were the smells of sand and sea, of warm masculine flesh and coconut-scented tanning lotion.

How long she continued the sensuous massage Katy had no idea, but suddenly she realized that Trace had fallen asleep. Oddly piqued, she jerked her hands away. She recapped the bottle and stowed it in her beach bag, then stretched out beside him on her back. Her heart was thumping.

Through slitted eyes Katy watched the puffy clouds floating overhead. Honesty forced her to admit that she had enjoyed touching Trace. She hadn't expected to, but she had. What was it about Trace that made him so different from other men? Why did one man's touch evoke revulsion and fear, while another's offered pleasure and security? Was it merely a matter of technique— violent demand versus gentle enticement? Katy mulled the thought over for a moment, but finally came to the conclusion that there was more to it than that. There was something about Trace she found irresistible, something that beckoned to her, despite her attempts to ignore it.

Turning her head, she studied his strongly masculine face. Her searching gaze traced over the network of tiny lines that rayed out from the corners of his eyes, the stubby lashes that looked almost white against his bronze skin, the hard, sensual mouth that had softened appealingly in sleep. It was a surprising, disturbing thing to face, but there was no escaping it; she was strongly attracted to her husband, mentally, emotionally, and physically.

That night when she slid into bed beside Trace, Katy felt only the vaguest flutter of fear in the pit of her stomach. Surprised, she told herself she was simply too exhausted to be afraid.

They had spent the entire afternoon sightseeing, beginning with a walking tour of Chinatown and the Cultural Plaza. Amazed and delighted by the wide variety of wares, Katy had gone from shop to shop, looking at rare pottery, turquoise, jade, silks, and herbs. In one of the food shops she had stared in wide-eyed amazement when shown one of the greatest of Chinese delicacies—an egg which was a century old and which looked and smelled every single year of it.