For the Love of Lila (18 page)

“It is a...a cozy room,” Lila faltered from behind him. She brushed past him on her way to the hearth, leaving his shoulder tingling. Stepping out of her slippers, she lowered herself to one of the pillows on the floor and sat with her legs tucked to one side, presumably unaware that she afforded him a tantalizing view of her ankles. “Would you like to join me?”

He looked heavenward, letting his head drop back in frustration. If she had any idea how fervently he wanted to join her, she never would have asked, for in truth he wanted to sink onto those pillows with her body locked against his. Lord, he wanted her so much it felt dangerous to think of it. Struggling not to groan, he pulled his focus back down to her. “Lila, what is going on here? What is this?”

She picked up her ratafia and took a sip. Looking into the glass, she said, “It is a chance for us to be together before you leave Paris.”

He stood so silent that he could hear his own breathing.

She set her drink on the hearth and stretched out her arm to him. “Come down here.”

Two wills fought within him. In a compromise between them, he took her hand but remained standing. “I cannot.”

“You don’t want to be with me?”

“I want
too much
to be with you, so much that I think we had best go back downstairs.” He drew in a deep breath. “Frankly, Lila, I no longer trust myself to be alone with you.”

“You are fine with me.” With her free hand, she reached up and pried his port from his fingers. Placing the glass next to her own, she took both his hands in hers.

“I must go,” he said.

“Stay.” She gently tugged his arms toward her. “We have so little time left together.”

Though he told himself to move for the door, he couldn’t even look away, impaled by her gaze.

“I couldn’t bear for you to go now,” she said, her words breathless. “When you leave Paris, I don’t know when or even
if
I will see you again...and I can scarcely stand the thought of that.”

Her voice caught, and a lump rose in his own throat, precluding him from speech.

She sighed. “Tristan, you are one of the most important people in my life, and soon I shall have to part from you for a long time, perhaps forever. Even if we do meet again, it will never be like this. Please, please stay with me now.”

As he looked into her eyes, he saw a tear trickle from one.

He dropped to his knees, conquered.

“Oh, Lila.” He wrapped his arms around her, savoring the warm pliancy of her body, not wanting to let her go...ever. “I don’t want to leave you, either.”

She stretched her arms around him, matching the strength of his hold on her. “Don’t.”

He loosened his embrace to look at her, wiping the tear from her cheek with his thumb. “I won’t.”

Her eyes filled again, but her lips formed a crooked smile—which he crushed mercilessly with a kiss.

“I love you,” he said against her mouth. He hadn’t meant to tell her. Indeed, the thought had fully solidified only that moment. But now that he’d said it, he knew he had been evading the issue for some time. He pulled back, holding her face between his palms. “I love you, Lila.”

She stared at him, her eyes big, fearful. Then she said quietly, “I love you, too.”

Hot relief flooded his body. Until this instant, he hadn’t realized quite how much the prospect of parting from her had frightened him. He needed her. No other woman would ever do. He had to have Lila.

He kissed her again, first gently, but more fervently as he considered how close he’d come to losing her. He had feared that her philosophy precluded a relationship between them, but now he knew they would work out a solution. They loved each other.

She matched his ardor, perhaps lost to the same thoughts, and pulled him deeper into passion. They sank to the rug in each others’ arms, consuming each other with kisses.

He felt heat tightening his groin and tried to roll apart from her and onto his side, but she clung to him, gasping when his arousal nudged at her thigh. He thought she would retreat then, but she recovered and took his mouth. Instinct prevailed and he pressed hard against her, yearning to demonstrate his passion rather than hide it.

“Make love to me,” she whispered.

He groaned, torn. They had yet to discuss marrying—a concession she would find difficult—but they had declared their love, and waiting to consummate it felt like torture. “I
so
want to make love to you.”

She wrapped her arms around him tighter, more tightly than he had ever been held. He could feel her hunger for him, a need he had never felt in another woman, a need he ached to fulfill.

He buried his face in her hair, faint with the scent of rosewater, and kissed her neck and collarbone. The decolletage on her borrowed dress had twisted lower to one side, as if to offer up one breast. He plucked the creamy swell free and sowed a path of kisses downward, taking her nipple in his mouth.

She moaned and wriggled, pressing her body up against him and maddening him with desire. Her gown had slid up one leg, and she hugged his hip with the freed thigh. He reached down and ran his hand up her leg and over the top of her stocking to the soft warmth of her bare thigh. Entranced, he traced a trail beneath her dress and into her undergarments until his fingers met the slick heat he sought.

Her gasp halted him, compelling his gaze to hers.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “Don’t stop.”

Oh, God
. He was going to make love to her. If he hadn’t been sure before, the decision was made now.

“There will be some pain.” Concern for her tempering his urgency, he used a feather touch to spread her moisture. “Not much, I hope.”

She arched her back and moved to deepen the pressure he exerted. “I am...not...squeamish.”

Summoning all his will, he left off the contact to slide her underthings downward. A glimpse of her legs, as gracefully formed as the rest of her, rolled a new surge of awe and craving through him. She kicked the garment off her ankles, and he lay fully down with her, renewing his touch and recapturing her nipple in his mouth.

She gasped again but his concern melted with a glance at her face, eyes closed and expression blissful...beautiful.

“Ohhh...” She pressed against his hand with greater need, and he matched her with an increase in touch and movement, his own body throbbing in reaction.

“I want to feel you,” she whispered. She opened her eyes to look into his. “You know...inside me.”

“Soon.” The wait drove him mad, but he feared that her pleasure would end with the pain of his entry.

Her breath came quick and she writhed beneath him, stoking the fire in his own body. The two of them seemed to fall into sync, sharing sensory perceptions, their moans blending in unison and multiplying in frequency.

“I need you,” she said. “Tristan, I need you.”

“I need you.” Waiting had become unbearable. Reaching down with his free hand, he undid the buttons on his fly and freed his erection, shoving his breeches downward.

She glanced down at what he was doing and whimpered, dropping her head back on the pillow.

He dipped a fingertip inside her and marveled at the sleek, hot heavenliness within. Her legs parted further and he shifted to position himself between them, still using his finger to work the moisture inside and out of her.

“Oh, God,” she said, bending her body to increase his pressure on her. “‘Tis amazing...what you make me feel.”

She wriggled and pushed upward against him. “Oh, Tristan, I want to feel you inside me.”

“Soon.” Reveling in the soft warmth on his fingertips, he shifted his body up, grazing her sleekness with his erection. She lurched against him, and the sensation nearly shattered his resolve to tarry. But he remembered her virginity and resumed his original touch, deepening the contact. “You should finish first.”

“Finish? But how—ahh...” She writhed under the greater pressure and countered his motion, doubling the intensity, compelling him to meet her immediacy. “Oh, my...”

He could feel the tension in her climbing, and his own blood surged and racked him. “Yes, Lila...go with it.”

“Ooohhh...” She pressed and urged against him, the energy between them crackling. He could sense the band of strain in her stretching, extending toward the breaking point.

Then it burst, waves shuddering through her limbs, her low moan heightening to a suppressed cry.

He froze in agonized suspension while the tidal release gradually subsided into the gentle wakes of a lake at sunset.

When she opened her eyes, her gaze pinned his. She grasped him by the hips and pulled him to her body. His erection slid against her with a sense-shattering awareness. Perched at the brink of ecstasy, he needed to submerge himself.

He pushed and felt her body yield, soft heat enveloping him like hot heaven. Reeling, he managed a questioning gape at her to check on how she forbore him.

“Yes.” Her jaw tensed, but she lifted her hips to admit him further. “Yes.”

He surrendered to instinct, losing himself in the glory of her body. He was inside her. The knowledge fired him to spiritual heights parallel to the soaring physical sensations.

Conscious of her probable pain, he didn’t try to draw out the wonder. He let his senses soak up all of the stimuli bombarding them. Ecstasy usurped reason, and his body drove of its own accord, the tension and euphoria spiraling to volatile heights.

Aloft, he had an instant of exquisite clarity, awareness of her body, certainty of his purpose: He was about to fill her with his seed, with the essence of his life.

And he did. At the peak of transport, his life force rushed into hers and ignited.

Bursting aftershocks landed him on his elbows, summoning all the strength he had left to keep from crushing her with his weight, gasping for breath as he looked up to her face.

Her eyes were wide, but she held his gaze with a steadiness that reassured him. A muscle in her cheek twitched and her chest heaved against his. She bore herself bravely, but he knew she must be pained. With reluctance, he slid from her.

Rolling to his side, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “I hope I didn’t hurt you too much.”

“I didn’t try to stop you, did I?” She smiled and held him closer. “Though I have to admit, you were probably wise to have me, er, finish first. But, in the end, the experience far outstripped the price. You were amazing.”

“
We
were. Are you certain you are all right now?”

She nodded. “I think I may still be feeling you for days, but...in some ways, the idea appeals to me.”

He frowned. “Not if you are in pain.”

“I’m not.” She looked him in the eye. “All I feel is a...a physical memory.”

Not knowing what more he could say, he pressed his forehead against hers and snuggled as close to her as possible. Her body, her very presence, felt like heaven.

He didn’t ever want to leave.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Lila opened her eyes to the muted light of dawn and the warmth of Tristan spooned against her back, his arm wrapped around her. The counterpane lay askew on top of them, dragged from the bed sometime during the night when the fire had dwindled to embers. Despite the hardness of the wooden floor beneath the rug, she could not have felt more snug.

She slid her fingers under the masculine hand resting on her midsection, awed by the sleeping strength in the solid form. Tristan’s bare forearm, sinewy and sprinkled with little hairs, fascinated her in its differences from her own. Cherishing every aspect of his presence, she lifted his hand and kissed it.

With an urge to look at his face, she wriggled around, moving slowly in order not to disturb his sleep. The movement roused a tenderness from the previous evening, but her overall contentment eclipsed any discomfort.

Tristan stirred but resettled on his back, his profile perfect, his expression peaceful. She loved him...and she had something of his inside of her. In the back of her mind, other matters loomed, complex and frightening, but she pushed them aside and curled up to him, savoring the serenity of the moment. She felt as if she had been cold all her life and, for the first time, had a blanket.

She must have dozed off, because when she felt him move again and opened her eyes, she had to squint against the brightness of the room. As her vision adjusted, she watched him blink in drowsy confusion. His stubbly whiskers and mussed hair again emphasized their intimacy and endeared him even more to her. She felt an ache of longing. How wonderful it would be to have this every day...

Slowly focusing on her, he pulled her close and hugged her. “Oh, Lila...I love you.”

The ache inside her clenched tighter. “I love you.”

He lifted her chin to kiss her, his lips warm and wonderful. Parting from them, she settled her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating—and feel her own constricting.

“We really should not have done this,” he said.

She felt as if he’d doused her with water. Fighting to retain the magical sense of warmth, she hugged him tighter. “Of course we should have.”

“Not in this way, without any forethought or planning.” His voice had grown more alert and more somber. “First, we should have discussed how to work out a life together. Now we will have to act quickly.”

A weight seemed to descend on her. The frightening issues in the back of her mind pressed to come forward, though she continued to fend them off. Still not looking at him, she asked, “What do you mean ‘act quickly’?”

“We have put you at risk for increasing.” He put his palm on her belly, his touch granting her a moment of comfort. “Even if you escape pregnancy this time and we take more care the next, the fact that the others in the house know about us leaves your reputation at risk.”

She closed her eyes, surprised by a strange notion that had taken her, a yearning to bear his child. Attempting to shake off that absurdity, she finally lifted her head to look at him. “The others are all in the same situation we are. None of them are going to spread rumors about us. How could they?”

“Without meaning to. Someone, one of the Italians perhaps, may well brag about last night, and your name and mine could easily be included in the story. Whoever hears the story from them will not be in the same situation we are. There is no telling how far such talk could go.”