Part 12 (1/2)

”No more games, Katriane,” he said softly. He took away the pad and pen, and, bending, took off her warm coat and dropped it beside his on the chair. He lifted her off the floor. ”I won't hurt you. But I've gone hungry too long.”

There would never be a better time to tell him the truth. But just as she started to, he bent and pressed his open mouth against the peak of her breast. She cried out, shocked speechless at the intimacy of it even through two layers of cloth.

He didn't say a word. She felt him lower her, felt the soft pile of a rug under her back. And then his body was spreading over hers like a heavy blanket, making fires that blazed up and burned in exquisite torment.

His mouth moved up to hers, taking it with a power and masculine possessiveness that she'd never felt before. She wasn't even aware of what his hands were doing until he lifted her and she felt the slight chill of the room and the heat of the blazing fire in the hearth on her bare flesh.

”Egan,” she protested shakily as he laid her back down.

”G.o.d, you're something!” he breathed, looking down with wild, glittering eyes on what he'd uncovered. His hands went to the b.u.t.tons on his s.h.i.+rt and unfastened them slowly, methodically. He pulled the s.h.i.+rt free of his jeans and stripped it off, revealing bronzed skin that s.h.i.+mmered smoothly in the light of the fire.

Her eyes fastened on him hungrily, loving every rugged line of him, wanting the feel of his hard muscles against her own trembling softness.

There was only the crackle of the fire as they looked at each other, only its reddish glow in the room. She knew what he was going to do, but she was powerless to stop him. She loved him. Oh, G.o.d, she loved him!

He came down slowly, easing his chest over hers by levering himself over her on his arms. His eyes held hers every second as he brushed his chest against her taut b.r.e.a.s.t.s and watched the wild, sweet surge of her body upward to make the contact even closer.

”Don't hold anything back with me,” he said under his breath. ”And I'll please you until you scream with it.”

His mouth eased down as his chest did, and she reached up to catch his head in her hands, tangle her fingers in his hair while he kissed the breath from her swollen mouth.

She experienced her own power when she felt the tremor in his long body; and without thinking about consequences, she tugged his head up and s.h.i.+fted to bring his lips down to the bareness of her body.

”Kati!” he burst out as if she'd surprised him, and he dug his hands in under her back. His mouth opened, and she felt his tongue, his teeth at flesh that had never even known a man's eyes.

Her body rippled in his arms, on waves of sweetness, and she moaned as his mouth learned every smooth inch of her above the waist. He rolled suddenly onto his back, bringing her with him, and she felt his hands going under the waistband of her jeans onto the softness of her lower spine.

”Look at me,” he said in a husky tone.

She lifted her head just as his clean, strong hands contracted, and he smiled at the hunger he could read in her eyes.

He nipped her earlobe with his teeth and whispered things that excited and shocked, all at once, embarra.s.sing things that she'd only read until that moment.

”Egan,” she protested weakly.

”Just relax,” he whispered, bringing her hips back against his in a slow, sweet rotation. ”Let me show you how much I want you.”

He ground her hips into the powerful, taut muscles of his own. She cried out as he freed one hand to bring her shaking mouth down onto his, thrusting his tongue up into it in a rhythm that said more than words.

”My room,” he whispered. ”Right now.”

He rolled her over and handed her the blouse and sweater he had taken off her minutes before. ”You'd better put those on,” he said in a taut undertone. ”In case Dessie's still up.”

She clutched the cool things to her, staring at him like someone coming out of a trance.

”Well?” he ground out. ”My G.o.d, you felt what you've done to me. I need you, d.a.m.n it!”

She swallowed, trying to find the right words. ”I need you too, Egan,” she said shakily. ”But there's something you'd...you'd better know first.”

”What? That you aren't on the Pill?” he demanded. ”It's all right, I'll take care of it. I won't let you get pregnant.”

She blushed and lowered her eyes to the jerky rise and fall of his chest. Her fingers tightened on the s.h.i.+rt and sweater. ”I'm a virgin.”

”My G.o.d, that's a good one.” He laughed coldly. ”Try again.”

”I don't have to,” she said, trying to hold on to her pride and her self-respect, both of which were slipping. ”I've told you the truth.”

”Sure, I'm a virgin, too,” he told her. ”Now can we go to bed?”

”Go right ahead,” she said with venom in her tone. ”But without me! Didn't you hear what I said, d.a.m.n you, I'm a virgin!”

”At twenty-five?” he asked in a biting tone. ”Writing the kind of books you write?”

”I've told you until I'm blue in the face that I don't research those love scenes-most of which are foreplay with a hint of fulfillment!” She flushed, avoiding his eyes. ”And some of that is obligatory-I can't get historical fiction published without it. And as for men...” she added, lifting her face to glare at him, ”...most of them have felt as you do, that a woman's place in the modern world is to be available for s.e.x and then disappear before anyone gets emotional. I can't live like that, so I don't indulge.”

”Never?” he burst out.

”Never!” she returned. ”Egan, didn't Ada ever tell you about my parents?”

His breathing was steadier now, but he still looked frustrated and full of venom. ”That they were old?”

She took another steadying breath of her own. ”My father was a Presbyterian minister,” she whispered. ”And my mother had been a missionary. Now do you understand?”

He looked as if he'd been slapped. His eyes went over her, right down to the fingers that trembled on her discarded top. ”Why didn't you tell me?” he ground out. ”My G.o.d, the things I said to you...!”

He got to his feet and grabbed up his s.h.i.+rt, shouldering angrily into it. ”Get out of here,” he said coldly.

She managed to get to her feet gracefully, pausing as she tried to decide between running for it and dressing first.

”Put on your blouse, for heaven's sake!” he snapped, and turned away again to light a cigarette with jerky motions.

She put on the blouse and pulled the sweater on over it without ever fastening a b.u.t.ton. She couldn't even look at him as she walked toward the door. Her fingers fumbled with the lock, and when she pulled the door open, he still hadn't turned or said a word. She closed it quietly behind her with trembling fingers and went upstairs as quickly as she could. When she was safely in her room, with her own door locked, she burst into tears.

Chapter Ten.

It was the most agonizing night Kati remembered spending. Egan had bruised her emotions in ways she hadn't dreamed possible. Rejecting her was enough of a blow. But couldn't he have done it gently? She cringed, thinking of the way he'd been, the things he'd said until she confessed. Ada had warned her. Why hadn't she listened?

Worst of all was the fact that she'd been more than ready to give in to anything he wanted of her. She'd wanted him to know the truth because he was so hungry that she was afraid of being hurt the first time. But her revelation had backfired. Instead of comforting her, he ordered her out of the room and turned his back.

Well, at least she knew how he really felt now, she told herself miserably. She knew that he'd only wanted her, and there was no feeling on his part except desire. She couldn't remember ever hurting so much. She loved him. What she'd felt in his hard, expert embrace was something she'd never get over. But he'd turned away as if such devastating interludes were just run-of-the-mill. To him, they probably were. With good-time girls like Jennie.

She got up well before daylight. She packed quickly and dressed in her boots and jeans and a burgundy sweater. She decided to go downstairs and have breakfast, and make sure Egan had left the house before she called a cab. It was eight o'clock, and he was usually long gone by then. She didn't know how she could face him if he was still there, not after last night. It made her color, just remembering the things they'd done together.

Her footsteps slowed as she reached the kitchen. She pushed the door open part way and found Dessie puttering around the stove. With a sigh of relief, she pushed it open the rest of the way and came face to face with Egan, who was just behind it picking up his hat from the counter.

She actually jumped aside. He looked down at her with an expression she couldn't read. His eyes were dark silver, cold, angry.