The Red Diary Page 17

  Her hand was quivering when she emptied her wineglass and lowered it back to the table.

  He shook his head. "Please don't be so nervous with me."

  "I can't help it." She got to her feet as she spoke. "I mean ... I'm not, okay? I'm not." Then she picked up her plate and moved it to the counter. "Are you done eating?"

  "Yes."

  She leaned over and snatched up his plate as well, giving him just time enough to catch the earthy scent of her perfume and a glimpse at the hollow between her breasts before she spun back to the counter.

  He didn't know what to do, so he just sat there watching as she scraped the remains of their dinner into the disposal, then put the plates in the dishwasher.

  "Have you bought the trim paint yet?" she asked.

  The trim paint? What an out-of-the-blue question.

  "No. Why?"

  She stood on the other side of the counter, facing him yet clearly putting distance between them. "I saw a picture in a magazine of something lighter, and I'm wondering if the color I picked is too dark." Her eyes still looked panicky.

  He remained surprised by the conversation's new direction, but admitted, "It is kind of dark. Something lighter, closer to the base color, might enhance your architecture more."

  She nodded quickly. And he still wanted her, but a part of him was actually starting to feel a true sense of relief that she'd separated them. It's best, he kept telling himself. It's definitely best.

  "I have the magazine if you want to see it." "Sure."

  "It's upstairs." She pointed toward the ceiling. "I'll just go get it and be right back."

  She nearly ran from the room, leaving Nick tom by his emotions. He hated how nervous he'd made her, hated that he'd just sent her dashing away from him like a woman on fire, and making up crazy excuses about paint on top of it. But he still wanted her, badly. In spite of her nervousness. Or maybe because of it? He wasn't sure he'd been with a girl since high school who looked at him like that, who felt his touches that much, who let sex move her so profoundly, who let it hurt that deeply when he walked out the door.

  The entire house felt still, quiet, around him. The first haunting notes of Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game" echoed through the speakers, seeming to darken the air. His heartbeat increased as he sat there waiting, trying to keep himself in check. Because he didn't want to keep sitting in this chair. At the moment, he didn't want to be anywhere she wasn't. He ran his hand back through his hair, took a deep breath. Damn, he must be losing his mind. Because he didn't want to keep hurting her anymore, he really didn't. And as he'd been telling himself, he could have nothing with this woman. He wasn't even the type of man to want something, but if he was. he couldn't have it with her. Not Henry Ash's daughter.

  Even so, something pulled him to his feet, made him push back the chair. Something led him through the hallway and to the staircase.

  Placing his hand on the banister, he paused, listened, grew yet more aware of the hungry ache between his thighs. Over the music, he heard the faint sound of her rummaging in the room down the hall from her office. A room he'd never been in before. Her bedroom.

  Slowly, he climbed the stairs, the soulful song about a man who didn't want to fall in love leading him on. With every step, he feared his heart would beat right through his chest And be told himself not to think about tomorrow, not to think ahead to even an hour from now. Just don't think. Just give her what you both need so bad that you can't spend twenty minutes together without it erupting between you.

  Reaching the top, he turned and moved quietly toward the dimly lit room. sliding his band along the rail overlooking the foyer. He burned with the anticipation of just seeing her again, of watching her try to fight it but then giving in, of listening to her low, heated moans.

  He stopped at the bedroom door, saw her kneeling over a pile of magazines on the carpet, flipping through them madly, one after the other, trying to find a picture she might've invented in order to escape his presence. His erection strained against his thin work pants. Come on, Princess, let go. Tum around. Give yourself to me.

  When she got to her feet, then spun toward the door, she stopped short.

  "Sorry," he said, low. "I didn't mean to scare you." She rushed forward, holding out an open magazine.

  "This is it." But even seeing that she hadn't invented the picture didn't weaken his confidence. She might be thrusting a magazine in his face, but it didn't mean she wanted him any less than he wanted her.

  Looking down at the picture, he nodded. "Yeah, this would be better. More of a classic look."

  She peered up at him, standing so close he could smell her again. "You really think so?"

  "Yeah," he breathed. Then he lifted both hands to her face, looked into her velvet eyes, and brought his mouth down on hers.

  The magazine dropped at their feet as a familiar swirl of pleasure twisted through his body.

  Lauren was drowning-that's what it felt like when Nick kissed her, like she was going down, couldn't breathe, didn't stand a chance beneath the weight of his passion. When Nick's hands and mouth were on her, the rest of the world faded, and a consuming pleasure took over.

  As his warm tongue pushed into her open mouth, she met it, startled by how close she felt to this man she hardly knew, by the intimacy they shared. She wished it felt wrong, she wished it felt dirty-but it just didn't, and there was no battling it. She returned his kisses with all the hunger in her soul.

  Nick's hands slid in painstakingly slow exploration from her cheeks down over her neck, her breasts, molding with each plane and curve like a blind man trying to see her with his touch. When his palms finally came to rest at her waist, he stopped kissing and gazed at her with the fire she always found in his dark eyes. Stepping forward, he backed her against the wall, letting the front of his body graze hers as his erection pressed on her abdomen.

  "Nick," she said.

  He quieted her with more kissing, his tongue licking provocatively at hers, his hands drifting around to caress her bottom through her skirt as she slid her arms around his neck. She wanted to reach down and undo his pants. She wanted to drop to her knees. She held on to him tight and kissed him hard. trying to keep herself from that ultimate form of worship, reminding herself she'd already given far too much of herself to a man who didn't care about her. Knowing she was about to have sex with him again was bad enough.

  His kisses trailed away from her mouth, falling lightly over her cheek, neck. The hot, delicate sensations nearly paralyzed her. He bunched her skirt in his fists until his hands were underneath, and his voice sounded throaty near her ear. "Are you not wearing panties?"

  Her lips trembled; her voice came in a whimper. "Little ones."

  He eased one hand over until he located the thin strip of fabric stretching down her center. "That's so sexy," he whispered, his breath warm on her neck. He slipped his fingers underneath, leaving her to shudder at the touch.

  "White skirt," she managed, struggling for something to say. "Other panties show through."

  His voice sounded almost strangled when he said,

  "You get me so hot." And then the fingertips beneath the strip of her thong were sliding down. grazing every sensitive inch of flesh until they reached where she was wet, and he pushed them up inside her. She cried out, her heart surging at the intimate connection. His other hand found her breast, his mouth covered hers, and she felt the surrender coming over her, the willingness to do anything he wanted. She would give him every ounce of herself, every private piece, every secret inhibition.

  But oh God-that wasn't what she'd wanted. Was it? She didn't even know anymore, couldn't tell right from wrong or happy from sad when he was near. Why had she started this with him again? Why had she been so honest, telling him how he affected her?

  She couldn't let this go on, couldn't let her awe over the color of aá rose make this something it wasn't. She couldn't get tangled any tighter in his web of heat. She couldn't be Nick Armstrong's toy, even if it kill
ed her to stop it. And it might, but she had to do something to save herself, protect herself, respect herself.

  "Nick." She was amazed at how firm it sounded leaving her.

  "Ab, baby," he moaned. His fingers moved inside her, and she panted with each thrust.

  "Nick," she managed again. "Nick, I-"

  "Shhh, baby, don't talk. Just let me make you feel good."

  "I have to talk," she said, pushing him away.

  His fingers left her, and she held him at arm's length.

  He looked shocked by her forcefulness.

  "I ... can't take this." She shook her head incredulously.

  "What?" he whispered.

  "I can't," she said. aware that her eyes felt wet. "I can't have sex if that's all it is. I can't-won't-do that to myself anymore. It tears me up inside." She stopped, took a deep breath, and tried not to think about how much this was hurting her, too, but she had to finish it. "So if you aren't staying afterward, leave now."

  He swallowed, and his eyes changed. It was that sad. worried look she'd seen in him once before, after the first time they'd had sex. Standing there watching him, studying his dark gray gaze, feeling his strong grip on her hips, it hit her all over again-what a beautiful man he was. And there was something about them that was so good together, and even it if was just chemistry, it overflowed with power, yet she was sending him away. She had to say more, had to make him truly understand why this couldn't go on. "Nick, I'm sorry. I'm just not-"

  He lifted two fingers to her lips. "Shhh," he said quietly. "You don't have to say any more, Princess. I understand. I get it."

  His fingers remained there and their gazes held for an interminable moment and Lauren wished he would just go, just let this end. She needed to sink to the floor, needed to sob, needed to sort out the mess this man had made of her. Then his hands slid slowly up her sides until they cupped her breasts. Oh God. His thumbs delicately stroked her nipples through her top and bra, sending rockets of pleasure through her and making her want to give in allover again. But no-she grabbed his hands, stilling them in place on her chest. "Nick. what the hell are you doing? You can't keep doing this to me! You can't! I just can't-" "I'm staying," he whispered. "I'm staying."

  Chapter Eleven

  Nick had seldom spent the night with a woman-it kept things simpler. But Lauren had left him no choice. All he knew was that he wasn't willing to let her go, wasn't ready to let this end no matter what he'd tried to convince himself. And he wasn't sure what he was getting himself into, yet wasn't inclined to examine it too closely at the moment, either.

  He'd never seen her look so stunned-not even when he'd told her he'd had sex on a horse, not even when he'd given her that pale pink rose. He covered her mouth with his, anxious to kiss away her shock. anxious to do everything to her. Pushing her top up over a bra of lavender lace, he molded her breasts in his hands and listened as her breath came heavy in response.

  "Is this the bra you had on at the beach?" he murmured in her ear, then began raining kisses just below. "Uh"-she looked down to see-"yeah, I think."

  "I couldn't see the color in the dark. Lift up your arms," he whispered.

  She did, allowing him to remove her top over her head.

  Burying his fingers into the low-cut lace of each cup, he pulled down, letting her breasts tumble free. She gasped as he dropped to take one pearl-hard nipple into his mouth, circling the enticing pebble with his tongue. The sound of her ragged breath above, the way she raked her fingers through his hair, all fueled him. Flicking a final lick over the taut pink crest, he moved to her other breast and drew it deeply into his mouth, felt himself engorge even further below, and reveled in the knowledge that she was watching him.

  As he sank to his knees, he sprinkled kisses over her smooth stomach, then cupped the backs of her thighs, his hands grazing upward. Her breath grew more frazzled as she clutched at him, and he loved how excited she was ... but there s so much more to come, baby. So much more. He didn't plan on rushing with her any longer.

  He hooked his fingers through the thin elastic at her waist to draw the scant lavender panties to her ankles. As she stepped free of them, he pushed up her skirt until he revealed the patch of tawny hair between her thighs. He kissed the soft skin just above, sending a shudder through her.

  Getting to his feet, he moved to the dressing table, where he grabbed a small chair upholstered in pink brocade, turning it around. "Sit down." She obeyed the command, and he knelt before her again. He parted her legs just enough to move between them, then resumed kissing her soft mouth, kneading her round breasts.

  She ran her palms over his shoulders, back, finally pulling his shirt up over his head. "I need to see you, your body. I've never seen you."

  She was right-before, it had always been about unzipping, hurrying through it, then moving on. "Don't worry, Princess, you'll see every inch of me before tonight's over. But right now is all about you." He dragged his tongue slowly across one beaded nipple, letting it linger there, as he used his hands to open her legs farther.

  He had intended to tease her a bit, kiss his way up from the inside of her knee, kiss her everyplace but the spot where she yearned for it most. But resting low between her spread thighs left him in no mood for teasing. He gazed hungrily up into her eyes and said, "Hold on to the back of the chair. And don't let go."

  Without hesitation, she gripped the chair's back legs.

  Then, unable to wait another second, he raked his tongue up her wet center.

  The tremor that shook her body quivered through him, as well. He tried to catch his breath, bold on to his sanity, as he licked her again, and again, soon reaching up, using his fingers to open her wider. Above, she whimpered and moaned. and he drank in the intensity of her pleasure.

  "Lift your legs," he said, his own voice a little shaky now, and Lauren let him position her just how he wanted. He held the backs of her upraised thighs, supporting them, then stiffened his tongue and pressed it against her moist flesh until it slipped inside.

  "Oh," she breathed above him.

  He closed his eyes, thrusting his tongue into her slickness, losing himself in the sensation.

  "Oh.Oh."

  He slid his tongue slowly in and out of her until he feared neither of them could take it any longer, then gently lowered her legs until her feet met the carpet. He gave her a second to breathe, gave himself a second to recover, then looked up at her and whispered, "I'm gonna make you come now."

  Still holding tight to the chair, she only sighed, and Nick bent down to delicately lick the sensitive pink nub he knew lay at the core of her desire. Her deep moan sliced through him. and he licked her again. "Yes," she whispered.

  Pushing two fingers inside her tight warmth, he rubbed his tongue over her in the same hot, slow rhythm that had driven her to ecstasy each time they'd been together. Her cries grew louder. she moved harder against his mouth, and he knew the pleasure of feeling entirely consumed by her as she sobbed, "Oh God, Nick! Oh God!" her flesh convulsing in quick spasms around him.

  When it was done, he slid his hands to her hips as she panted her exhaustion, and simply studied her, her beauty rushing through him like a river. Finally, he said, "I wanna take you to bed."

  After he removed her pretty bra and skirt, she lay down naked atop the comforter on the four-poster bed. "Now you. Take off your pants."

  He pushed them down, along with his underwear, and let her look at him until her focus eventually settled on his rock-hard erection.

  "Nick?"

  He lowered himself to the bed beside her. "Yeah?" She bit her lip. "Don't get me wrong. I love foreplay as much as the next girl. But I really want you inside me now."

  His groan came from the depths of his soul. "I want to be inside you, too," he whispered, realizing as he rolled onto her that this was the first time they'd actually done it lying down.

  She must've caught some hint of amusement, since as soon as he slipped into her warmth, as soon as she issued that hot,
accepting sigh. she said, "What?"

  He managed a small grin. "Nothing. I'm just ... not usually a missionary position kinda guy."

  She wrapped her legs around his back and pulled him tight into her.

  "Or maybe l am." he amended breathlessly.

  He moved slowly in and out, savoring each sweet thrust, and their leisurely tongue kisses got him so lost in her that he nearly forgot his own name. And her name, too. He thought of it once, who they were to each other, what they were doing-because this wasn't just sex, it was more--but then he shoved it from his mind and drove himself into her receptive body, letting her sexy moan fill him.

  After a while, he silently withdrew and turned her over, lying behind her, entering her from the back. After a few gentle thrusts, he leaned near her ear. "Is it good, baby?"

  Her whimpered ''yes'' reached all the way to his gut. He soon lost himself again, pounding into her harder and faster until she cried out at every heat-filled stroke. He knew he couldn't hold back much longer, knew that heaven was only a few sweet thrusts away, when Lauren shocked the hell out of him. Reaching between them, she cupped his ballsá in her hand and pulled them toward her, pulled him even deeper inside, and pushed him completely over the edge.

  He swore softly, and then he was coming, in blinding flashes of heat and light; he was spilling himself inside her, giving himself over to a release so powerful it drained him of all thought, all energy. "You're so good," he whispered near her ear as he wrapped around her, then exhaustion grabbed hold of him. not even giving him a chance to disconnect their bodies before sleep descended.

  She woke him in the middle of the night. She couldn't resist. She was too amazed that he was in her bed, and the way he'd made love to her (she knew Nick would never call it that, but that's what it had felt like) had left her almost fearing it was a dream.