Trust in Me (21 page)

Her hands roaming eagerly over his body, she rained kisses on his face, his neck, his chest as he hurried to sheath himself.

Finally, he pushed her back into the pillows and positioned himself at the entrance of her body. His expression was pain and pleasure, agony and ecstasy as he sank deep inside her, groaning his satisfaction. His eyes never left hers as he withdrew then buried himself further. Again. And again.

The emotion and reverence glittering in his dark eyes said clearly what went unspoken. This was no meaningless tryst for him, no one-night stand or summer fling. With his body, with his gaze, he was sharing his soul, giving her a glimpse of what was in his heart.

He was offering her what Blaine never could.

With his eyes, Kevin told her she was cherished, she was needed, she was loved. The power of that look alone nearly sent her careening into her climax.

But along with unimaginable joy, something cold skittered through her. Danger lurked here. She was losing her heart to this precious man before she'd even found what she wanted in herself.

Moisture gathered in her eyes while the rhythmic pumping of his body carried her higher and higher. For a moment, she teetered on the edge of completion, holding back, uncertain. But he whispered her name, and she couldn't contain her heart or her pleasure another second. With a glad cry, she shattered in a million stars of light and heat and bliss. Kevin caught her cry with a kiss and followed her into the maelstrom with a final, deep plunge and shudder of completion. Breathing hard and collapsing on her with a sigh, he wrapped her in his arms and held tight.

She clung just as tightly to him, not wanting to do anything but relish the moment, the feeling of his body joined with hers. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. She didn't want to think about how this bliss she'd found could alter her future, derail her goals for herself. But nagging thoughts nipped at her conscience.

She strummed her fingers down the bumps of his spine and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. Kevin, bless his soul, with his sweetness and gentle warmth, could eclipse her dream of independence before she'd really gotten started. She could fall so hard for this man that she'd forsake her quest for autonomy in order to share herself, her heart with him. But when loving him felt so good, so right, how could she not want to give herself to him? Completely. Forever.

She couldn't.

He raised his head to peer down at her and caught one of her tears with the pad of his thumb. Worry washed over his face. "You're crying. Claire, what—?"

"It's all right. I cry at the opera and at weddings, too."

He angled his head. "Then this is a good cry? Or are the opera and weddings especially painful for you?"

She smiled and wiped her cheek. "No. They're beautiful and moving to me. They touch my heart...the way you have."

He didn't respond. For a moment, he only held her gaze, then he closed his eyes and brushed his mouth across hers, dusting a tender kiss over her lips. With the next graze of his lips, he deepened the kiss.

And they started all over.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

Kevin woke the next morning to the first rays of the sun penetrating the threadbare curtains of his back window and Claire's leg nestled against his groin. The first led him to throw an arm over his eyes to block the harsh light, while the latter quickly made him achingly aroused.

When the tickle of warm breath teased his ear, followed by nuzzling lips, he peeked out from under his arm to find Claire grinning at him with a provocative glint in her eyes.

"Finally. I thought you'd never wake up."

He surveyed her sleep- and sex-tousled hair and the impish grin tugging her mouth, and warmth pooled in his chest. He could easily get used to waking up with her. "You could have wakened me sooner if you needed." He checked his bedside clock. It was still quite early, even if he did have to open the store at eight this morning. "It's only 6:15. Why the impatience?"

"Because I'm ready now for my pie."

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched, enjoying the weight of her thigh against his. Dragging an appreciative gaze over her, he admired the curve of her bare shoulder, the satiny glow of her skin in the morning sun and the pink-tipped breast, inches from his hand, asking to be touched. He reached for her just as she rolled away and scooted to the edge of the bed.

Kevin frowned. "Where are you going?"

"To get our breakfast."

He propped on his elbows to watch her cross the floor. Naked. Gloriously, beautifully naked. Desire body-slammed him.

"Claire."

She turned at his bedroom door. "Hmm?"

Putting his hands behind him, he opened and closed his fingers. "Blink, blink."

He wiggled his eyebrows, and she laughed. "Hold that thought, Bug-man. I'll be right back."

Giving him a sultry smile and a hand-blink in return, she disappeared out the door. Kevin sank into the pillows and waited for her to return, hungry only for her and the satisfying release he found buried deep inside her.

Closing his eyes again, he replayed his favorite parts of the evening before.

Hell, who was he kidding? The whole night had been his favorite part, from eating lasagna to catching fireflies, from sharing the sunset to waking at first light with her. The wonder and pleasure had been in sharing it with Claire.

Granted, the moment he'd first pushed inside her and felt the warm grip of her body hugging him, milking every drop of bliss from the moment had been a highlight. But so had the simple act of kissing her eyelids as she drifted to sleep and her confession that she'd never been fully satisfied with a man before him. He especially loved the lightning-hot way she'd taken him in her mouth to show her gratitude.

That particular memory made his body hum with a sensuous tension. He stirred restlessly, wondering what was keeping Claire.

The clunk and rattle of dishes in the kitchen filtered into his bedroom. Was she cooking? The idea was nice, but he'd much rather have another few minutes making love to her before he had leave for the store than a scrambled egg. "Claire?"

"Just a minute!" she called back.

Kevin stared at the water spot on his ceiling and fought for patience. Since when had a minute been such an eternity? Since he'd learned how much gratification could be packed into sixty seconds. He sighed contentedly.

But a disturbing thought invaded his peace-of-mind. How many more minutes could he realistically expect to have with Claire before she decided to move on? Last night, when they talked on his front steps, she'd made it clear that she wanted her freedom, wanted self-determination and the self-confidence she could gain only through her independence. Making her own way was a matter of pride and self-respect for her, something he could understand well.

In all his years of poverty, he'd clung to his self-respect, his dedication to his principles and his determination not to give up. Keeping his dignity despite his living conditions had been all-important to him. At times, his pride was what pulled him through a rough spot.

Yet Claire's domineering father had denied her the inner peace and self-satisfaction of following her dreams. One of the things he loved most about Claire was her courage and determination to do whatever it took to claim her place in the world, to find the serenity of self-fulfillment.

The very things Robin had feared losing if she committed herself to a life with him
. Kevin's heart clenched painfully when he made the connection.

Would a life with him cost Claire her dreams? Would she sacrifice the opportunity to prove her self-reliance and find the confidence she was searching for? Clearly her plans were to fly solo for a while. She didn't want or need a co-pilot. If he loved her, and after last night he was pretty certain he did, how could he stand in the way of her happiness?

"Ta-da!"

He looked up when she strode into the room carrying the chocolate pie Mrs. Proctor had sent. She grinned playfully at him, and his chest squeezed.

He loved her.

But he couldn't tell her. He couldn't put any pressure on her to stay with him, to make a commitment to him because
he'd
fallen for her. He'd deal with his feelings on his own, give her the freedom she needed to decide for herself what she wanted from their relationship. That was what she wanted after all. The right to choose her life for herself. No undue influence from anyone else.

He cleared his throat and sat up. "Pie for breakfast? Are you serious?"

She lifted a delicate eyebrow. "Why not?"

He laughed at the haughty expression that crossed her face. "Why not. Did you bring forks?"

She set the pie on the bedside stand and gave him a wicked grin. "Who needs a fork?"

With that, she dipped her finger into the whipped topping and scooped up a glob of chocolate and cream. Sticking her finger in her mouth, she licked the pie off in a manner that made his heart race and his groin throb.

"Mmm." She cast a naughty slidelong glance at him and tugged up the corner of her mouth. "Delicious."

Kevin suddenly found it hard to breathe. "You planning to share?"

"Of course." She dug her finger in the middle of the pie again and brought her fingers to his mouth.

Catching her wrist in his hand, he took her pie-coated fingers into his mouth and sucked. The heat that filled her eyes as she watched shot another bolt of lust through his veins. Heaven help him, he'd never known chocolate pie could be so erotic.

"More," he rasped, and she obliged.

As she transferred the next glob of pie to his mouth, a drip of chocolate landed on her thigh.

"Whoops," she said, chuckling.

He stopped her when she reached to wipe it away. "Let me."

She gasped when he ducked his head and took care of the drip with his tongue. He lingered on the smooth skin of her inner thigh, pressing open-mouthed kisses up her leg. He stopped just short of the tender spot where he knew she wanted him. The restraint cost him. His body was already strung tight and quivering with desire. But this was too good, too hot to rush through. He wanted to savor this sexual play with Claire. Who knew if he'd ever have the chance again?

When he raised his head and met her gaze, her pupils were large, her eyes heavy-lidded. Holding his stare, she dipped her finger in the pie again then thrust her chest out. His body roared with approval and impatience when she painted her breasts with the whipped cream.

"Whoops," she muttered, her voice deep and husky.

Something like a growl rumbled in his chest as he rolled her onto the bed. He lapped up the treat she offered while she squirmed and sighed her enjoyment. He tugged on the tight nipples and flicked the taut peaks with his tongue, ready to shatter in a million lust-crazed bits.

"Now! Please, Kevin!" she cried and arched into him.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and rubbed herself along his stiff length.

Condom,
his conscience whispered, remembering her rush last night. The seconds it took to sheath himself were agony. When at last he pushed home, he slid deep inside her with a groan and clutched her to him with no intention of ever letting go. In her arms, he'd found paradise.

But how could he live with himself if he didn't let her go?

***

An unfamiliar car sat in Mrs. Proctor's driveway when Kevin stopped his motorcycle in front of the house. Judging by the make—a Jaguar— and Claire's reaction—a gasped "Oh, my God!"—Kevin felt safe assuming the car didn't bode well. He killed his bike's engine and waited for Claire to slide off the seat before stating the obvious. "You know whose Jag that is."

She came up beside him, handed him the helmet, and nodded. Her face taut and her movements jittery, she stepped out of the way for him to swing his leg off the motorcycle. "My fa—"

"Claire!"

She turned with a jerk as a silver-haired man with broad shoulders and a murderous expression stormed out of Mrs. P's house.

Cripes
. Busted. The frog had been caught dallying with the princess and now the king was royally ticked. Her father's dark blue tie flapped like a flag carried into battle as Mr. Albritton stomped toward them. His starched white shirt and pressed suit pants seemed overkill for this early on a Saturday morning, but Kevin would bet the man had worn the same shirt and suit pants since yesterday. He'd likely been waiting for Claire. All night. While Kevin had been taking liberties—hot, extremely erotic liberties—with the man's daughter.

Cripes squared
.

"Daddy! What are you doing here?" Claire pressed her back against Kevin's chest as if seeking his protection. Was it her father in general she feared or just the fury that rolled off him like steam that had her trembling and edging into his arms for reassurance?

"I think a better question is
where the hell have you been all night
? And who is this jerk?"

And just like that, Claire's quivering subsided. She stiffened and drew back her shoulders. Fire leaped into her eyes, and she stepped out of the circle of his arms, a princess warrior meeting her opposition. "His name is Kevin."

"Fuller. Kevin Fuller, sir." Kevin edged past her and extended a hand that was summarily ignored.

"And he's
not
a jerk," Claire added tightly.

Kevin couldn't help but grin at the way she stood up to her father for him. Damn, she made him proud.

"I see you finally figured out where I was. What took so long, Daddy? Haven't I always told you how much I wanted to follow in Nana's footsteps, how much I loved her hometown and wanted to attend her alma mater? Or were my dreams, my wishes too trivial for you to pay attention?"

"I'm here now, aren't I? And you still haven't answered my question. Were you with him—" Mr. Albritton jabbed a finger toward Kevin, a muscle in his square jaw twitching. "
All night
?"

Claire folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. Only the slight shift of her weight from one foot to the other gave away her discomfort with this topic. "I'm an adult. I don't owe you any accounting of where I go and what I do."