Ain’t Misbehaving (9 page)

Halfheartedly she tried to escape from his kisses. “Mitch. I can’t possibly accept something with that kind of valu—”

His lips stilled her protest. His palm slipped inside her black top, finding the satin flesh over her ribs; he savored her quick intake of breath. She actually wanted him to touch her. She actually loved his gentle kneading on her breast; he could feel the soft orb tremble and then swell in his hand, its tip hardening.

He moved slowly, searching for the least sign that she wanted him to stop. He didn’t receive any signs. She murmured approvingly when his hand slipped behind her to find the catch of her bra.

A year later, he figured out it was the front-hooked kind. Damn it. At fifteen, the girls he’d known had all worn back hooks.

He managed, and without once interrupting the exchange of tongues going on in a completely different world. She gave pleasure so naturally, so sweetly. Her fingers had already unbuttoned his shirt, were splaying in the curling hair on his chest, climbing near his heart. His heartbeat was deliriously erratic. Once, that would have instantly aroused alarm bells; now, he only worried that she had it all wrong.

He didn’t want to take but to give. To offer as much pleasure as Kay would let him give. If the desire he felt was a torment of frustration, there was still the greater desire simply to love her for the woman she was. His hands moved slowly, testing, as his mouth started exploring the soft skin of her neck.

One way or another, he got her top off and flung it on the floor. He knew he should have hung it up or…whatever a man usually did when he was removing a woman’s clothes.

Except that her skin was so pliant in his hands… Her faint whimper of pleasure caused his thighs to tighten unbearably, his lips to turn boldly possessive. “I love your pleasure sounds,” he murmured. “More, sweetheart. More, Kay…”

Her spine arched for the touch of his hand on her breast, and in response his lips sealed, hard, on hers. When her legs curled up, he couldn’t help sweeping a palm up and down the length of her stockinged calf and thigh. His fingers strayed to the top of her stocking and discovered a lace-edged garter. A fierce, primal craving flooded his bloodstream. There was something irreversibly exciting about garters and stockings. At least about
Kay
in garters and stockings. And the thought of taking them off her…
hell.

Trying to ignore the runaway images in his head, he concentrated on listening to those soft, abandoned murmurs of hers, on touching her in a way she clearly wanted.

She very clearly liked the soft lap of his tongue in the hollow of her throat. She liked the caress of his hand on her thigh; her breath caught at the slightest touch of her breasts…but she didn’t breathe at all when he rubbed her nipple with his thumb. Her whole body turned warm for him; her eyes turned dark, sleepy, intense with emotion.

And the only problem with wanting to please her was that he couldn’t take much more. Her hand dropped in his lap—he was certain she didn’t mean that the way it felt, but unfortunately there was hell to pay. A certain portion of his body was so swollen he was in pain.

“Mitch?”

He’d been waiting for that faint sign of hesitation, but it still hit him like a grenade. A shudder racked his whole body, but he regained control. With immeasurable tenderness, he simply wrapped his arms around her and held her close until his teeth were able to unclench and his heart at least tried to batter out a normal beat. He’d meant to say nothing at all, yet the hoarse voice was clearly his. “Stay here tonight, Kay,” he whispered. “Just…stay with me. Lie with me.”

“Yes,” Kay said breathlessly.

“I won’t push you into making love. I just want to wake up with you in the morning, that’s all.” He tilted her head back to see a strange play of emotions on her face. “I mean it. We’ll just sleep. I won’t—”

“All right, Mitch.” Her voice had all the solidity of Jell-O. Her bones, too. When he picked her up in his arms, she wound her hands around his neck, her eyes frantically searching his face as he carried her over to the bed.

Just
sleep?
Every square inch of her body suffered instant withdrawal symptoms. She’d been about to say
please
very nicely, and it certainly wasn’t to
just sleep.

Kay was touched as well as startled. Touched that he was willing to be that sure of her feelings before they made love. An old-fashioned man was terribly hard to find. Someone who respected as well as wanted her, someone who wanted to love as well as be loved.

He slid back the spread and blankets and eased her onto the cool sheets with a soft, lingering kiss on her mouth. Looking down at her, his eyes were as dark as his black opals, with just as much latent fire. Leaning over her, he unbuttoned and then tugged off her skirt with a single glance up, as if to confirm that she didn’t object to the intimacy.

She didn’t. When he drew the covers over her, he kissed her again. “Give me a minute to get the lights,” he murmured.

She waited, feeling both bemused and bewildered. When she heard him downstairs, turning off lights, she slipped off her stockings and settled under the covers.

The wind had become a wintry howl. Mitch was back in short order. In the darkness, he removed his pants and shirt and then slid into the bed beside her. Most possessively, he tucked the thick comforter around her chin before deliberately shifting to his side of the bed.

Kay waited expectantly. She had the measure of exactly how aroused he’d been just a short time before; the man took fire at even the slightest touch, but in the most giving way. He was special, so damned special.

And he was going to reach for her; she knew he was. And when he did, she would certainly forgive him for his good intentions. The point was that he’d meant them honorably, and anyway, at the moment she wasn’t overflowing with good intentions herself. It had been a very long time since she’d really wanted someone. It had been forever since she’d wanted anyone as badly as she wanted Mitch.

But he didn’t reach for her. She could hear his breathing; he wasn’t asleep. In time, she edged toward him, and then a little closer, and then curled around him like a kitten. At first, he reacted with utter stillness, but then his arms wrapped around her and he drew her cheek to his chest. His heart thumped a staccato beat in her ear, making her half smile. Mitch was not going to find it all that easy just sleeping.

She didn’t expect to either, but she was so incredibly surrounded by warmth. Desire became a narcotic, the darkness like a lover’s curtain. Such total trust…she couldn’t remember feeling that with another human being. With a sigh, she closed her eyes.

***

Watching her sleep, Mitch was fascinated. Dawn was sending the faintest light in at the windows, a gray color tinged with dusty rose that just barely illuminated the room. Kay’s lashes curled up on her cheeks, like black velvet on cream.

She was a sprawler, he’d discovered. During the night, she’d kicked off the covers and then twined around him for warmth. Every time he covered her, she just kicked off the blankets and gravitated toward him again.

At the moment, she was wearing a black half-slip, scarlet bikini panties, and the comforter. The sheet had disappeared hours before. The last time he’d tugged the comforter around her chin, the slip was wound around her waist and her bare breasts were trying to nuzzle against him. If that wasn’t enough to deprive a man of rest, the feel of her long slim leg tucked between his…

He hadn’t slept much.

“Mitch?” Sleepily, Kay’s eyes opened to discover Mitch propped up on one elbow, his eyes inches from her own. She smiled groggily. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Watching you wake up,” he murmured.

“That’s no fun.”

“That’s how much you know.” It would be so easy to reach under the covers, to stroke that warm, silken skin as he’d stroked it in the night. So easy to take her… She stretched sleepily, like a wanton cat, her eyes moody with sleep and her smile unbearably seductive. Easy to make love to her?

His body informed him that it was criminal not to. His head knew exactly what body part went where. That aspect of it wasn’t a problem. It was doing it right, pleasing her, the fear he’d damn well rush like hell, hurt her, not love her well…not love her the way he wanted to. That he’d disappoint her…

So, his hand slipped over rather than under the covers, over the curl of her shoulder and into her hair. He leaned toward her, and his lips touched her forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, but a craving to know what her sleep-warmed skin felt like. “You need,” he murmured, “blueberry muffins.”

“Pardon?”

“Muffins.”

She shook her head. Surely, that look in his eye would lead to a caress—but he vaulted most determinedly out of bed.

She noted that he’d slept in a T-shirt and Jockey shorts—undoubtedly in deference to her virtue. Darn lucky for
his
virtue that he wasn’t still within arm’s reach. The Jockey shorts really didn’t fit very well in the condition he was in. But she probably wasn’t supposed to notice that—he’d turned away as quickly as he could.

Still, she noted with approval that he wasn’t overly self-conscious about his body. He certainly
shouldn’t
be. He had an honest ripple of muscle in his shoulders, a flat, taut stomach and hard, smooth legs. Also, a flat little fanny that made her smile. The man was pure male, built on neat, strong lines, just the one bulge exactly where it should be and the rest physically fit without making a big deal out of it. At the moment, she was inclined to make a big deal out of it, and wished he’d get back in bed.

“Mr. Cochran?”

He tugged on a velour robe, glancing up as he belted it. “You just stay right there. I’ll bring up some coffee and muffins.”

He brought back the coffee and muffins and watched her strew crumbs from one end of the bed to the other as she waved a muffin around while she talked. The pillows were plumped up behind her, and the comforter tucked under her arms provided only the barest protection for his sanity.

“I can’t
believe
you can make muffins like this!” she exclaimed. “Heavens, if I thought I could get breakfast in bed every morning, I’d marry you, Cochran.”

“It’s just amazing what a woman will say when she’s exhausted. And you certainly should be. You did calisthenics all night, kicking and thrashing around.”

Kay hastily swallowed. “Did I keep you up?” she asked guiltily.

“Once I had you pinned down so you couldn’t move, I slept just fine,” he lied.

“So you’re that kind, Cochran.” Kay nodded sagely

“That kind?”

Kay waved her hands expressively as she reached for another muffin. “Bondage,” she clarified.

“I should have thought of that last night,” Mitch said thoughtfully.

Kay chuckled. “I’ve been accused of being trouble to sleep with before.”

“Have you?”

“Don’t come to any dirty conclusions, Cochran. I shared a double bed with my little sister until she whined for my parents to get us twin beds.” She cocked her head, licking a smidgen of blueberry from her finger. “Was I really that much trouble?”

“I’m still alive,” he assured her, “but barely.” The only thing in his head
was
dirty conclusions. Other men who’d covered her up. Other men who’d had the right to. He reached over to flick a crumb from her chin, his touch so gentle she could barely feel it, his head filled with not so gentle thoughts about murdering any other man who touched her.

“Mitch.” She reached for a napkin, and the comforter slipped to reveal every damn curve. “You’re being remiss as host,” she said teasingly.

“Pardon?” He forced his eyes up.

“A spare toothbrush,” she suggested mildly. “A comb. A little soap. It’s going to be bad enough going home looking like a bag lady, with saggy hose and wrinkled outfit and straggly hair. But I have a sneaky feeling that there are mascara smudges under my eyes—”

“There are,” he affirmed. He liked them. Actually, he was fascinated by them. Her makeup had begun to wear off before they’d gone to bed; he’d been intrigued by that process in itself. The flawless matte finish had gradually eroded to reveal a trace of freckles across her nose. Obviously, she was sensitive about them. But he couldn’t imagine why she wore the mascara; her lashes were already thick and soft, and those tiny flickers of black on her cheeks somehow made her look incredibly vulnerable.

He loved waking up with her. She was natural and easy and woke up in good humor, ready to start a day she already knew would be good. How could it not be good? She was in it.

***

Kay loved waking up with him. She’d been afraid it would be uncomfortable, awkward. It could have been—with some men.

But not with Mitch. Sex or no sex, there was a delicious feeling of intimacy between them this morning. There was laughter when he draped his robe around her, and more laughter as he stood gravely in the bathroom doorway long enough to “find out whether you squeeze the toothpaste in the middle.”

The kitchen looked post-bomb-squad after his simple exercise of making muffins. Mitch seemed startled at the mess he’d made, and his expression made her laugh again. She puttered around, cleaning up, because she liked puttering in the morning, while Mitch glared at her over his coffee cup, because by that time in the morning he obviously liked his cup of coffee, but he didn’t like the idea of her cleaning up his mess.

She
didn’t like the idea of going home. He didn’t like the idea either, but she didn’t realize that until they were in the car and he pinned her down at every stop sign for a kiss. The kisses were getting disgracefully long by the time they arrived at her door.

He claimed she tasted good, and that he was hungry. He hadn’t had any breakfast; she’d eaten all of the blueberry muffins.

She would have to serve him breakfast, lunch and dinner, if he’d come inside with her.

But he left her on the doorstep.

***

“Kay?” Stix gave the front door a token knock—once he’d opened it and was already inside.

Lying on the carpet with a book in her hand, Kay garbled an “over here!” through a mouthful of apple.

“I can’t see anything but your feet,” Stix said with amusement. Her bare feet were propped up on the sofa. When Stix peered around the couch, he just shook his head. “You
can’t
be comfortable.”

Kay chuckled. “I’ve been reading upside down ever since I was a little kid. I can’t break the habit now. Good morning, incidentally. You’re certainly up at a disastrously early hour—for you. Particularly on a Sunday morning.”

“I came to talk to you.” Tossing his jacket on a chair, Stix made his way to the kitchen. After a moment, Kay heard him making coffee and reflected that by the time Stix actually married, she would have him very well trained for domestic life.

In the meantime, she yawned and returned to her book. Last night the temperature had hovered around ten degrees, and when she’d awakened to a white December morning, laziness had hit her like a submarine. She’d roused herself long enough to make breakfast, build a terrific fire and grab a pillow and a book. Her jeans and crewneck sweater were old and baggy, ideal attire for a somnolent winter morning.

Engrossed in her book, she barely glanced up when Stix set the steaming coffee mug down beside her. “Did you know,” she asked him, “that if you wrap some catnip in a chamois and hold it in your hands until the catnip gets warm, the next man to hold your hand will fall in love with you?”

“Is this a quiz?” Stix eased himself down on the floor, his long legs taking up more space than her entire body. Pushing up the cover of her book, he read, “
Modern Day Witchcraft.
I see your reading’s taken a decidedly intellectual turn, shortie.”

“You want to hear another good one?”

“No.”

“You take five strands of the woman’s hair and three strands of the man’s hair and weave them together, then toss them into the fire. This causes the man and the woman to be consumed by passion for each other.”

Stix looked patient. “Could we at least give serious conversation a whirl?”

“Certainly.” Kay set the book on her chest with a grin. Propping a pillow behind her, she reached for the coffee mug and took a sip.

Stix leveled her a steadfast stare, then cracked his knuckles like a nervous adolescent. “You know, it’s only ten days until Christmas. Are you planning to spend it with your folks?”

“Nope. Mom and Dad are taking a cruise, leaving on the twenty-sixth. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“No, you didn’t. What about your sister?”

“Jana’s planning to go with them. As always, it depends on her health.” Kay’s eyes clouded. “She’s been doing terrific lately, but from month to month that changes. She wants so badly to take a full-time job, but I don’t know if she can handle it.”

“You didn’t tell me that, either.” There was a plaintive note in Stix’s voice that made Kay’s eyebrows arch in surprise. “You free this afternoon? I thought we’d do a little ice skating. John’s set up a rink—”

She shook her head. “Can’t, Stix, but thanks. Mitch is picking me up at three. We’re going to his parents’ house.”

“His parents?” Stix echoed.

“You know. The people who brought him into the world. It’s a fairly common, phenomenon—” Stix’s booted foot nudged her thigh, and she chuckled.

“That’s exactly what I came to talk to you about, dunce. The birds and the bees.”

“I’d rather read. I teach that stuff all week.” She grabbed her book and opened to the appropriate page again.

Stix got up long enough to seek out the Sunday paper in the wicker stand by the couch. Folding himself back down on the carpet next to her, he crackled the paper and promptly buried himself behind it. “He’s becoming a fixture around here. I thought I just might bring that to your attention.”