Charmed (15 page)

“Anastasia.” Smothering his own fears, he lifted her hand, pressed his lips to the palm. “I won’t hurt you. I swear it.”

“I know that.” She linked her fingers with his, wishing she could be sure if it was fear of the moment a woman experiences only once in her life, or fear of the overwhelming depth of her love for him, that left her shaky and unsure. “Show me.”

With rainbows dancing around them, he lowered his mouth to hers. A deep, drugging kiss that both soothed and enticed. Time spun out, drifted. Stopped. Still there was only his mouth against hers.

He touched her hair, his fingers combing through, tangling in the luxurious length of it. To please himself, he spread it over the pillow, where it lay like a pool of gold dust against soft Irish linen.

When his lips left hers, it was to take a slow, lazy journey of her face until he felt her nervous trembling fall away into pliancy. Even as she surrendered her fears to the light, sweet sensations he brought her, he kept the pace slow, so slow that it seemed they had forever just to kiss.

She heard him murmur to her, reassurances, lovely, lovely promises. The low hum of his voice had her mind floating, her lips curving in a quiet smile as they met his again.

She should have known it would be like this with him. Beautiful, achingly beautiful. He made her feel loved, cherished, safe. When he slipped the robe from her shoulders, she wasn’t afraid, but welcomed the feel of his mouth on her flesh. Eager now, she tugged on his shirt, and he hesitated only a moment before helping her remove it.

A groan ripped out of him as his body shuddered. God, the feel of her hands on his bare back. He fought back a wave of greed and kept his own hands easy as he parted her robe.

Her skin was like cream. Unbearably soft and fragrant with oils. It drew him like nectar, inviting him to taste. As he closed his mouth over her breast, the quiet, strangled sound she made deep in her throat echoed like thunder in his head.

Gently he used tongue and lips to take her to that next degree of pleasure, while his own passions licked at him, taunting him, demanding that he hurry, hurry, hurry.

Her eyes were so heavy, impossible to open. How could he know just where to touch, just where to taste, to make her heart shudder in her breast? Yet he did, and her breath sighed out between her lips as he showed her more.

Quiet whispers, a gentle caress. The scent of lavender and fairy roses thickening the air. Smooth sheets growing warm, skin dampening with passion. A rainbow of lights playing against her closed lids.

She floated there, lifted by the magic they made together, her breath quickening a little as he eased her higher, just higher.

Then there was heat, searing, torrid. It erupted inside her so quickly, so violently, that she cried out and struggled against him. “No. No, Boone, I—” Then a flash, a lightning spear of pleasure, that left her limp and dazed and trembling.

“Ana.” He had to dig his fisted hands into the mattress to keep from plunging into her, driving them both where he knew the rewards were dark and desperately keen. “Sweet.” He kissed her, swallowing her gasping breaths. “So sweet. Don’t be afraid,”

“No.” Rocked to the core, she held him close. His heart was thundering against hers, his body taut as wire. “No. Show me. Show me more.”

So he slipped the robe away, driving himself mad with the sight of her naked in a pool of sunlight. Her eyes were open now, dark and steady on his. Beneath the passion just awakened, he saw a trust that humbled him.

He showed her more.

Fears melted away. There was no room for them when her body was vibrating from dozens of more vivid sensations. When he took her to the peak again, she rode out the storm, glorying in the flash of heat, desperate for the next.

He held back, gaining his pleasure from hers, stunned by the way she responded to each touch, to each kiss. Her innocence was his, he knew. With the breath laboring in his lungs, the blood pounding in his head, he entered her, braced for her to stiffen and cry out. Knowing he would have to stop, no matter how his body craved completion, if she asked it of him.

But she didn’t stiffen, only gasped out his name as her arms came around him. The brief flash of pain was instantly smothered by a pleasure greater, fuller, than she had ever dreamed possible.

His, she thought. She was his. And she moved against him with an instinct as old as time.

Deeper, he slipped deeper, filling her, rocking her toward that final crest. When she did cry out, her body shuddering, shuddering from the glory of it, he buried his face in her hair and let himself follow.

*  *  *

He watched the dance of light against the wall, listening to her heart calm and slow. She lay beneath him still, her arms around him, her hands stroking his hair.

He hadn’t known it could be like this. That was foolish, he thought. He’d had women before. More, he’d loved before, as deeply as anyone could. Yet this union had been more than he’d ever expected or experienced.

He had no way to explain it to her, when he was far from understanding it himself.

After pressing a kiss to her shoulder, he lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes were closed, and her face was flushed and utterly relaxed. He wondered if she had any idea how much had changed, for both of them, that morning.

“Are you all right?”

She shook her head, alarming him. Instantly concerned, he braced on his arms to remove his weight from her. Her lashes fluttered up so that he could see the smoky eyes beneath them.

“I’m not all right.” Her voice was low and throaty. “I’m wonderful. You’re wonderful.” The smile curved beautifully on her lips. “This is wonderful.”

“You had me worried.” He brushed the hair away from her cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so nervous.” Her lips were waiting for his when he bent his head to kiss her. “You’re not sorry?”

Her brow arched. “Do I look sorry?”

“No.” Taking his time, he studied her face, tracing it with a fingertip. “You look kind of smug.” And the fact that she did brought him a rush of deep satisfaction.

“I’m feeling very smug. And lazy.” She stretched a little, so he shifted to let her head rest on his shoulder.

“Happy birthday.”

She chuckled against his throat. “It was the most … unique present I’ve ever been given.”

“The thing about it is you can use it over and over again.”

“Even better.” She tipped her head back, and now her eyes were solemn. “You were very good to me, Boone. Very good for me.”

“It wasn’t what I’d call an act of altruism. I’ve wanted this since the first time I saw you.”

“I know. It frightened me—and excited me, too.” She smoothed her palm over his chest, wishing for a moment that they could stay like this forever, cocooned together in the sunlight.

“This changes things.”

Her hand stilled, tensed. “Only if you want it to.”

“Then, I want it to.” He sat up, bringing her with him so that they were face-to-face. “I want you to be a part of my life. I want to be with you, as often as possible—and not just like this.”

She felt the old, niggling fear trying to surface. Rejection. Rejection now would be devastating. “I am part of your life. I always will be now.”

He saw something in her eyes, sensed it in the tension suddenly blooming in the room with them. “But?”

“No buts,” she said quickly, and threw her arms around him. “No ands. No anything now. Just this.” She kissed him, pouring everything she could into it, knowing she was cheating them both by holding back. Not knowing how to offer it and keep him with her. “I’m here when you want me, as long as you want me. I promise you.”

Rushing her again, he thought, berating himself as she clung to him. How could he expect her to be in love just because they had made love? He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling himself. It had all happened too fast, and he was riding on the emotion of the moment. He reminded himself, as he held Ana, that he didn’t have only his own needs to consider.

There was Jessie.

What happened with Ana would affect his daughter. So there could be no mistaking, no acting on impulse, and no real commitment until he was sure.

“We’ll take it slow,” he said, but felt a twinge of resentment when Ana immediately relaxed against him. “But if anyone else comes to your door bearing gifts or needing a cup of sugar—”

“I’ll boot him out.” She squeezed him hard. “There’s no one but you.” Turning her head, she pressed her lips to his throat. “You make me happy.”

“I can make you happier.”

She laughed, tilting her head back. “Really?”

“Not like that.” Amused, and flattered, he nipped her lower lip. “Not quite yet, anyway. I was thinking more along the lines of going down and fixing you lunch while you lazed around in bed and waited for me. And then making love with you again. And again.”

“Well …” It was tempting, but she recalled too well what one of his meals did to a kitchen. And she had too many jars and bottles around that he might use incorrectly. “Why don’t we do it this way—you wait for me while I fix lunch?”

“It’s your birthday.”

“Exactly.” She kissed him before she slid out of bed. “Which is why I get to do everything my own way. I won’t be long.”

It was a pretty stupid man who wouldn’t take a deal like that, Boone decided as he leaned back with his arms crossed under his head. He listened to her running water in the adjoining bath, then settled down to imagine what it would be like to spend the afternoon in bed.

Ana belted her robe as she walked downstairs. Love, she thought, did marvelous things for the spirit. Better, far better, than any potion she could brew or conjure. Perhaps in time, perhaps with enough of that love, she could give him the rest.

Boone wasn’t Robert, and she was ashamed to have compared them, even for a moment. But the risk was so great, and the day so marvelous.

Humming to herself, she busied herself in the kitchen. Sandwiches would be best, she decided. Not terribly elegant, but practical for eating in bed. Sandwiches, and some of her father’s special wine. She all but floated to the refrigerator, which was crowded now with Jessie’s artwork.

“Not even dressed yet,” Morgana said through the back screen. “I suspected as much.”

With a boneless turkey breast in her hand, Ana turned. Not only was Morgana at her kitchen door, but crowded around her were Nash, Sebastian and Mel, too.

“Oh.” She felt the flush blooming even as she set the lunch meat aside. “I didn’t hear you drive up.”

“Obviously too self-involved, with your birthday and all,” Sebastian commented.

They piled in, bringing hugs and kisses and pushing ribboned boxes into her hands. Nash was already opening a bottle of champagne. “Find some glasses, Mel. Let’s get this party started.” He winked at his wife as she collapsed in a chair. “Apple juice for you, babe.”

“I’m too fat to argue.” She adjusted her weight—or tried to. “So, did you hear from Ireland?”

“Yes, a chest this morning. It’s gorgeous. Glasses in the next cupboard,” she told Mel. “Gifts inside. I talked to them …” Right before she’d gone upstairs to make love with Boone. Another flush heated her cheeks. “I, ah, I really need to …” Mel shoved a glass into her hand with champagne brimming up to the lip.

“Have the first glass,” Sebastian finished for her. He cocked his head to the side. “Anastasia, my love, you look quite radiant. Turning twenty-seven certainly appears to agree with you.”

“Keep out of my head,” she muttered, and took a sip to give herself a moment to figure out how to explain. “I can’t thank you all enough for coming by this way. If you’d just excuse me a minute.”

“No need to get dressed for us.” Nash poured the rest of the glasses. “Sebastian’s right. You look fabulous.”

“Yes, but I really need to—”

“Ana, I have a better idea.” The sound of Boone’s voice from just down the hall had everyone lapsing into silence. “Why don’t we—” Shirtless, barefoot and rumpled, he walked into the room, then stopped dead.

“Whoops,” Mel said, and grinned into her glass.

“Succinctly put.” Her husband studied Boone through narrowed eyes. “Dropping by for a neighborly visit, are we?”

“Shut up, Sebastian.” This from Morgana, who rested both hands on her tummy and smiled. “We seem to have interrupted.”

“I think we would have if we’d been any earlier,” Nash murmured into Mel’s ear, and made her choke back
a chuckle.

Ana aimed one withering glance at him before she turned to Boone. “My family’s brought along a little party, and they’re all quite amused at the idea that I might have a private life”—she looked over her shoulder meaningfully—“that doesn’t concern them.”

“She always was cranky when you got her out of bed,” Sebastian said, resigned to accepting Boone. For now. “Mel, it appears we’ll need another glass of champagne.”

“Already got it covered.” Smiling, she stepped forward and offered it to Boone. “If you can’t beat ’em,” she said under her breath, and he nodded.

“Well.” He took a long sip and sighed. It was obvious that his plans for the rest of the day would have to be adjusted. “Anybody bring cake?”

With a delighted laugh, Morgana gestured toward a large bakery box. “Get Ana a knife, Nash, so she can cut the first piece. I think we’ll dispense with candles. She appears to have gotten her wish already.”

Ana was much too accustomed to her family to be annoyed with or embarrassed by them for long. And she was simply too happy with Boone to hold a grudge. As the days passed, they moved slowly, cautiously, toward cementing their relationship.

If she had come to trust him with her heart, with her body, she had not yet come to trust him with her secrets.

Though his feelings for her had ripened, deepened into a love he had never expected to experience again, he was as wary as she of taking that final step that would join their lives.

At the center was a child neither would have harmed by putting their own needs first.

If they stole a few hours on bright afternoons or rainy mornings, they were theirs to steal. At night Ana would lie alone and wonder how long this magic interlude would last.