The Spellbinder (14 page)

“No romance, Sacha,” he cut in harshly. “Sex. Don’t fool yourself it’s going to be anything else.”

Her gaze lifted to his. “No illusions at all?”

He started to shake his head, his expression strangely stern. Then, as he detected wistfulness in her, he stopped and said quickly, “Dammit, don’t look like that.” He sat down beside her and cupped her face in his palms. “Perhaps a few illusions wouldn’t hurt,” he said softly. “As long as we realize what we’re doing. What would you like to pretend, Sacha? What role would you like me to play?”

The role of a man who would love her forever, she wanted to tell him. “I don’t care,” she said in a tone that was almost inaudible. “You’re a spellbinder in whatever role you play. You choose.”

He bent slowly until his lips were only a breath away from her own. When he spoke, his lips brushed hers with a gossamer kiss punctuating every word. “Then I choose not to play at all. The spellbinder is on vacation.” His warm tongue lightly outlined her lower lip. She inhaled sharply and a throbbing began wherever his tongue touched her. Her lips felt suddenly full, swollen, exquisitely sensitive. “This is only a man.” He lifted his head, and the look in his eyes was like the room around them. Sunlight and shadow, ghost and substance, an emptiness that overflowed and became … loneliness.
“Make me real. I want to be real for you, Sacha.”

“You are real,” she said shakily. “If you became any more real. I think I might melt into a puddle on this fine velvet spread.”

His eyes suddenly twinkled. “I don’t think I have to worry about that. I’ve noticed you always have both feet on the ground.” He pushed her back on the bed. “A state I’m about to correct. That position might prove to be a bit inconvenient for what we have in mind.” He removed her shirt and bra, then looked down at her. “Lord, you’re pretty, love.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m no Dolly Parton. You always asked for women with large breasts when you called Marceline’s.”

He lowered his lips to tug at one pert nipple. “I’ve changed my mind. Small breasts can be quite erotic when you add a certain dimension.” His hand cupped and squeezed rhythmically. “Sort of a do-it-yourself project.” Her breasts were swelling, firming, beneath his hands and mouth. She couldn’t breathe; she was almost panting for air as his teeth nipped at the engorged peak.

He lifted his head, his eyes glazed and hot as he looked at his work. “And it definitely gives a man a certain feeling of accomplishment.” His hand moved down to unfasten her jeans. The zipper slid sibilantly, the sound sending a shiver through her. His gaze left her breasts and traveled up to study her face. “Are you excited?”

She gazed at him helplessly. “Yes.”

“How excited?” he asked. “Tell me.”

She could scarcely speak, her throat was so tight. “I think you know.”

He lifted her hips to strip off her jeans and the bikini panties beneath them before tossing the garments carelessly aside. “But it’s fun to hear the words. Haven’t you found that out?”

“No, I’ve never—” She stopped. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything you like.” His palm teasingly rubbed the tight curls surrounding her womanhood. “This feels so good. I’ve just thought of another item of clothing I want you to stop wearing.”

“Pretty soon you won’t have me wearing anything.”

“Probably.” His fingers wandered down to stroke, toy, and rotate. The muscles of her stomach clenched, and she made a sound that was a half gasp, half moan. “But think how convenient it would be. You’d like it too. I’d make sure you liked it.” Two fingers plunged into the heart of her, and her body arched helplessly up toward him in a motion as old as desire. “Just think about it. We’d be walking along the beach, and all I’d have to do would be to pull you behind a dune and lift your skirt.” The rhythm of his fingers quickened. “And do this. It would be so easy.”

“It doesn’t feel easy,” she gasped through clenched teeth. Shivers of fire were quivering through her.… She felt as if she were exploding, burning. She couldn’t think. Brody’s deep, mesmerizing voice was painting pictures that she felt as well as
envisioned. Hot sun stroking her body, white dunes hiding them from the world. And the rhythm—“It feels … hard.”

He stopped. “But good?”

Her hips moved yearningly. “Yes.”

“Roll over.”

“What?” she asked vaguely.

His hands left her and he stood up. “Roll over, love,” he said softly. “You’ll like this, too, I promise you.” He pulled his black sweatshirt over his head and threw it aside. He smiled coaxingly. “For me?”

Who could refuse him when he smiled so sweetly? She rolled over on her stomach and felt suddenly very vulnerable now that she couldn’t see him. She heard the sound of his undressing and the deep harshness of his labored breathing. She could smell his musky maleness, but she couldn’t
see
him. “Brody?”

“I’m here.” He was beside her on the bed again, his lips brushing the exact center of her lower spine. An excited shudder quivered through her. His palms began kneading the pert swelling of her buttocks. “You have a wonderful derriere. That first night I met you, I was thinking I’d like to see you like this.” His teeth nipped sharply at one rounded cheek. No pain, just a flicker of liquid heat between her thighs. “Do you like this?”

“I’m not sure. I feel … helpless.”

“Do you? In a moment I’m the one who’s going to be helpless. Part your legs, love. Let me come into you.” He was moving her, coming between her thighs, lifting her, invading her.

She cried out in surprise, then bit her lower lip in annoyance.

Brody stopped. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” It was true. Heat. Fullness. Not pain.

“You’re so tight,” he muttered. “I didn’t expect … Tell me if I hurt you.”

His hands slid around to cup her breasts in the palms, his thumb and fingers plucking at her nipples, his breath feathering her ear as he braced himself on his knees. “We’ll lie like this in the dunes and the sand will be warm and rough against you.” His tongue toyed with the lobe of her ear. “And I’ll be warm and rough inside you.” He plunged deep!

This time she kept from crying out, but it was impossible to mask the betrayal of her body.

He froze. “Sacha, my God.…”

She was glad her face was hidden from his. “It doesn’t hurt.” Her voice was muffled in the pillow. “I like it.” She suddenly bucked upward, clenching around him. “Go on.”

“Sacha.” Her name was a low groan. “Don’t …”

She clenched again. “Go on!”

He muttered something beneath his breath. “Dammit, Sacha.”

She felt his shudder within her body. “It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” he said thickly. “But not enough to stop me. Not now.” He drove forward and began a wild, tempestuous rhythm that rocked her to the foundations of her being. Her hands clenched into fists. She tried to help him, but his
pace was too furious, too wild. Fullness. Beauty. Brody. Always Brody. Passion. Fire. Spellbinder.

His breathing harshened above her until it was nearly a sob. “Sacha, I can’t wait any longer.”

Neither could she. The spiraling tension snapped, exploding into a million sunlit shards. She heard Brody’s low guttural cry above her. He collapsed against her, his chest lifting and falling against her back, his words spaced by gasps that made his voice almost inaudible. “Sacha, I never felt anything like that before. You nearly tore me apart.”

She laughed huskily. “I think you’ve stolen my line. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say?”

Brody stiffened against her. “That’s right, it is.” He moved off her quickly. “Turn over, dammit. We have some talking to do.”

Sacha sighed contentedly and then lazily turned over to look at him. How beautiful he was, she thought tenderly. His rumpled chestnut hair gave him an air of boyishness that was in strange contrast to the mature masculinity of his tough, muscular body. The bronze of his skin appeared much darker in the hazy half-light illuminating the room, and his eyes shone a more brilliant shade of blue.

“I liked that very much,” she said softly. “But next time could we do it in a way that makes it possible for me to watch your face? I think I would enjoy that even more.”

He muttered a low curse and jumped up from the bed. “What the hell would you say if I said no?” He strode over to the huge wardrobe trunk against the far wall and threw it open with barely
contained violence. He jerked out a velvet surcoat in a shade of rich chocolate-brown and pulled it on. “What if I said I’d rather have you on your head or maybe—” He stopped and leaned his forehead against the side of the trunk. “Dammit, Sacha, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t important, and I knew you would feel guilty about making love to a virgin.” She smiled. “You’re far more noble than you think you are. And it wasn’t as though I were saving myself or anything. I’m merely very selective.”

“And so you ‘selected’ a man who’s been notorious for his sexual escapades since he was a teenager. Not very smart, Sacha. There’s no telling what I could have asked you to do.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t have done anything that would hurt me or that I wouldn’t have enjoyed.” She frowned. “I didn’t mean to complain before. You have a wonderful face, and I would have liked to watch your expressions, but if you really prefer to—”

“Sacha, for heaven’s sake, be
still
.” His voice was muffled. “Now isn’t the time for you to …” He reached into the wardrobe and riffled through the costumes. “I’ve never even had a virgin. I didn’t think there were any over fifteen these days. I can’t think.”

“It’s very foolish of you to be so upset. I didn’t know you could be this old-fashioned.”

He found the garment he was looking for and jerked it from the hanger. “I’m not old-fashioned; I’m merely a little disconcerted.” There was a thread
of indignation in his voice as he turned and came back toward her. “I’m not accustomed to situations of this type.” He stopped halfway to the bed as a thought occurred to him. “This should make us quits. You don’t owe me anything now. Even trade.”

Her laughter rang out, echoing in the enormous room. “Oh, no, Brody. Not even at all. I told you my inexperience was not important. Our arrangement stands.”

A flicker of emotion touched his face, which was a mixture of frustration, sadness, and relief. “Sacha …” He came toward her. “Sit up and let me put this on you.”

She knelt on the bed and gazed at the loose sapphire velvet robe in his hand. “That’s Guenevere’s robe in the bedroom scene. She looked quite beautiful in it.” She slipped her arms into the wide sleeves, her fingertips caressing the white ermine trim that bordered the robe. “Blondes always look lovely in blue.”

“Do they?” He fastened the ermine-covered button at her throat and arranged the shining bell of her hair to free it of the jeweled collar. “I think it looks better on you.” He stood gazing at her and felt a familiar tightening of his throat. Her eyes—clear, honest, and warm with humor and joy—gazed back at him. His hands moved from her hair to cup her face gently. “Sacha, Sacha, what am I supposed to do with you?”

Her face was suddenly alight with mischief. “You should know better than I, but I think you’ve
done it. We have only to repeat. First, though, I believe it would be nice if you held me. I understand that is pleasant also.”

He sat down on the bed and pulled her into his arms. “Like this?” His voice was husky. He rocked her gently back and forth, his lips brushing her temple. “Anything else, milady? Perhaps I should break into a few verses of “How to Handle a Woman.” Though I wouldn’t recommend it. A voice like mine needs all the help it can get from the orchestra.”

“You do very well.” Her palm stroked the softness of his dark brown velvet surcoat. She was content enough to purr as her cheek nestled dreamily against his shoulder. “Though I never really understood why you took the part. It’s so much lighter than the roles you usually choose.”

“I wasn’t going to do it.” His hand came up beneath her hair to rub the tendons of her nape. “I was prepared to turn it down right up to the very last page of the script. Then I came to Arthur’s speech to the boy Tom. Do you remember? He talks about mankind as less than a drop of water in the sunlit sea.”

“I remember.”

“And then he says, ‘Some of the drops do sparkle.’ He was a man with a broken dream, but he could still see hope shining in the darkness. I liked that. I think this weary old world needs all the hope we can bring to it.”

“Yet you claim you’re a hardened cynic,” she whispered. “I don’t believe a cynic would take a role just because it was about hope.”

“Maybe not.” His tone was self-mocking. “Maybe I really took it because I wanted to show the world how versatile I was. Vanity, pure and simple.”

“No,” she protested. “It wasn’t for that reason. Why do you—”

“You don’t think I’m versatile?” He bore her back on the bed. “I’m always willing to demonstrate.” His fingers were at her throat, unfastening the ermine closing he had so recently buttoned. His eyes darkened and his mockery vanished as he parted the robe and looked down at her. “If milady permits?”

She could feel the heated tension start to spiral within her. The world was beginning to narrow down to checkered sunlight and Brody’s intent eyes gazing down at her. “Milady applauds,” she said, and reached up to touch his cheek with a fingertip. “Could I see your face this time?”

He turned his head to catch her finger between his lips. “I’m not sure I want you to. You see entirely too much, and I don’t know if I care to be vulnerable to anyone.”

“I’m vulnerable but I’m not afraid.”

He nibbled at her fingers, not looking at her. Then his gaze swung back to her, and she experienced a little shock at what she saw there. It couldn’t be.… Then whatever emotion had been revealed was first veiled and then gone and she realized she must have been mistaken. “But you’re braver than I, Sacha.” He parted her legs and moved between them. “I thought you realized that by now.” The expression on his face was half sad,
half tender, as he looked down at her. “But I’ll try to have a little of your courage.” His lips lowered until their lips were only a breath away. “Because I want to watch your face, too, love.”