Hale's Point (26 page)

“Tucker… this won’t hurt you, will it?”

He chuckled disbelievingly. “You’re worried about hurting
me
? I’m terrified of hurting you.” His brows
drew together. “The first time… it could hurt.”

She felt a curious thrill at this acknowledgment that they
were actually going to make love. “Then we’re both terrified,” she said. “You’re
terrified that you’ll hurt me, and I’m terrified that I’ll disappoint you.”

“How could you possibly—”

“I don’t know if I can… I mean, Brian always said I was
probably
fr
—”

“Brian’s an idiot. I told you.”

“But—”

He eased her back down and hovered over her. “You’re not only
thinking too much, you’re talking too much.” His mouth dosed over hers in a
deep, delicious, thought-erasing kiss. He followed that with a series of licks
and nibbles along her jaw that ended at her ear, into which he whispered, “I’ll
show you how wrong Brian was.”

Reclining on an elbow, he watched his hand trace a warm path
down her chest and abdomen to her lower belly. He paused briefly before
continuing, his fingers brushing ever so lightly…. She gasped and stiffened,
clutching a fistful of grass in each hand.

“Easy,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I know, but—” Her words caught in her throat as he
intensified the caress, stroking her in a languid rhythm. It was hypnotic; she
closed her eyes and lay still, consumed by sensation. She heard his breathing,
and hers, and felt the prickle of the grass beneath her open robe, but
otherwise her senses were focused exclusively on his tantalizing touch. Her
hips rose without her willing it. As if that were his cue, he slipped a finger
deeper into her moist heat. Jolted, she drew in a sharp breath and opened her eyes
to stare into the smoky depths of his.

His smile was reassuring, his raspy words almost inaudible
for the blood roaring in her ears. “Easy,” he repeated. “Give in to it. Go with
it.” He leaned over her, his mouth descending on hers for a remarkably tender
kiss, his intimate caress never pausing. “God, you’re so beautiful.” he
murmured.

Suddenly self-conscious, Harley turned her head, trying in
vain to hide her face even as she writhed beneath his touch. As if sensing that
she didn’t want him watching her, he lowered his head to her breast, where he
bestowed flickering little licks on an ultrasensitive nipple. Drawing it into
his mouth, he sucked, hard this time, using his sharp teeth and the dancing tip
of his tongue to escalate the torment.

The hand that played between her legs grew bolder, generating
an itch that grew into a kind of exquisite agony, grew and grew until she
thought her heart would burst if she had to endure another second of it.
Close… So close to…something
. He
found the tiny, hidden source of her pleasure, and one fleeting touch was all
it took to draw a startled cry from Harley. Her back arched, and she grabbed
his arms, her fingers sinking deep.

He withdrew his hand. “No!” she groaned.

“I want to be inside you when it happens.” Rolling to the
side, he reached for his fly, but she got there first, unbuttoning with a
lust-induced haste she had never felt before. Raising his hips, he swept jeans
and shorts off in one swift motion.

Harley stared. He noticed, and lay still, giving her time to
look. She sat up straight and closed her robe around herself, feeling the same
incredulous fear that she had felt once as a child, when a doctor whipped out a
hypodermic about twice the size she’d thought it would be. He reached out and
gently stroked her arm through the rough terry cloth. Trailing his fingers down
to her hand, he took it and pulled it toward his erection.

“Tucker, I don’t think—”

“
Shh
.” He brought her hand to rest
on the rigid shaft, which jerked at her touch. “Don’t think, remember?”

She hadn’t expected the tightly stretched smoothness of it,
the heat, the little pulses that quivered within. He closed her fingers around
it, drawing her fist slowly along its length.

His breathing quickened. “I told you a long time ago that it
would be great between us, and it will. You trust me, right?”

“Yes, but…”
But that will
never fit inside me.

Tucker sat up and lowered her onto her back, leaning down for
a lingering kiss. “Trust me. I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll be as careful as I
can.”

He reached for his wadded-up jeans. “Speaking of being
careful…” He withdrew his wallet from the back pocket, slid the little square
packet out, and ripped it open.

Wanting to prove that her attack of nerves was behind her,
Harley said, “Let me help with that.”

He positioned the condom and showed her how to unroll it onto
him. She smoothed it up and down with firm strokes, pleased that she could feel
his heat through the latex. He seized her by the shoulders, inhaling sharply.

“Am I doing it wrong?” she asked, her wicked smile belying
the innocence in her voice.

“Absolutely not,” he growled, but his hand clamped over her
wrist and pulled her hand away. “It’s
too
right. You’re a quick study.”

She lay back in the grass and opened her arms to him. “Always
have been.”

He eased himself down onto her, took her in his arms, and
brushed his warm lips across forehead and eyelids, nose and cheeks and chin.
Maneuvering himself between her legs, he rose onto an elbow, took her right
hand in his, kissed it, and brought it down between them. “You guide me.”

He gazed directly into her eyes as she took somewhat
tentative hold of him, tilted her hips, and led him to her narrow entrance. Her
breath caught as he pressed inward. So warm and hard, so much to take in… She
stretched to accommodate him, her flesh burning.

“You’re so tight,” he breathed. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, relieved, but then she reached between them with
her hand and felt that he had barely entered her.

He kissed her eyelids and whispered against them, “Relax
completely. And trust me.”

She felt his long arms tighten around her, holding her still,
and she wrapped her arms around his back. Murmuring reassurances, he pushed
into her, very slowly, paused, and then pushed again, and again. Despite the
discomfort, it was a strange and wonderful feeling, to be penetrated by this
man, possessed by him. She wanted to remember everything about it.

When it seemed as if he could make no further progress, he
moved his hands to her hips, slid them beneath her, and pulled her toward him.
He pushed harder this time, and she winced, but with the second thrust she felt
something give way inside, and he collapsed on her with a groan.

When he lifted his head to look at her, his eyes were
smiling. He guided her hand to the juncture of their bodies, where they were
intimately connected. He was completely inside her now.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

Enormous and hot and hard.
“Amazing,” she whispered.

He rested his forehead on hers. “It feels amazing to me, too.
I’ve wanted this for so long. So many times I’ve wondered what it would feel
like to be buried inside you. I never dreamed it would feel this good.”

Rising over her, he braced himself on one arm and reached
down to gingerly touch her aching flesh where they were joined. The touch
galvanized her, sweeping her back into a state of high arousal. His nimble
fingers increased their tempo, spiraling her to the edge of something dark and
extraordinary before retreating to a gentler caress. Again he picked up the
pace, and again backed off, denying her release.

She writhed unselfconsciously, clutching his arms, her robe,
the grass. She yanked two fistfuls right out of the ground. He drew himself
gradually out of her, just a bit, and then pushed back in. Again, and then
again, slowly, carefully… It was torment. It was unendurable. His ragged
breathing and the quivering strain she felt in the hard muscles of his arms and
back betrayed his own frustration, and the control she knew he struggled to
maintain.

The hell with control.
She pressed her hands to
the small of his back and arched. “Please,” she moaned.

He fell on her, driving himself in to the hilt, pressing her
into the ground with his weight. He pulled out and then plunged in again, deep.

“Yes,” she breathed, rising to meet the slow, penetrating
thrusts that were as maddening, in their own way, as his teasing touch.
So close
… She heard him murmur her
name, tell her she was beautiful, and that he wanted to feel her come.

He took her hands in his and held them near her shoulders as she
threw her head back. Nearly insensible, she thrashed beneath him as he pumped
faster, in an urgent rhythm, straining with her toward release.

Just as she reached the precipice and teetered off, he
covered her mouth with his and captured the animal cry that rose within her.
The explosive pleasure detonated where their bodies were joined, then coursed
through her like rolling thunder, rocking her with its power. He clenched her
hands in a painful grip and groaned into her mouth, shuddering violently as his
own pleasure overtook him. Together they rode out the aftershocks, moaning as
the spasms subsided, then holding each other in a limp, breathless embrace.

He stroked her hair with a shaking hand. Her ears rang.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“That’s my line, remember?” he whispered back. He lifted his
face to look at her, and a drop of sweat fell from his forehead onto her cheek.

She said, “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think Brian was an idiot.” He laughed, and she felt him
throb within her. “I didn’t know,” she said. “I had no idea it would be… like
that.”

“It’s not,” he said. “I mean, it’s not usually. It’s never
been like that for me. Never.” He enclosed her in his arms, buried his face in
the crook of her neck, and kissed her throat. “I don’t guess it ever will be
again.”

Chapter 13

Tucker saw Harley
in the window of the study, watching him toss his
modest possessions into the trunk of the Jag. She was talking to someone on the
phone, but her eyes followed his every move.

It was noon already, but it felt later. The night before, by
unspoken agreement, he and Harley had retired to their own rooms. To share
their bodies was one kind of intimacy, to share a bed, another. Tucker couldn’t
imagine waking up next to her, all warm and soft and sleepy, and then having
the courage to leave. So he had slept in his own little bed in the maid’s room,
although he’d actually done a lot more tossing and turning than sleeping. He’d
awakened exhausted, then spent a long morning trying to avoid Harley as much as
possible. To be with her, knowing he had to leave, filled him with a pain more
severe in its own way than anything he had suffered after cracking up the
Skywagon
.

R.H.
had made it clear, through Liz, that he would prefer
Harley to stay on until September, as originally planned. The maid wouldn’t be
returning until then, and he needed someone to look after things, especially
given his precarious health. Liz had confided to Tucker that she had offered to
stay there herself, but
R.H.
had declined, preferring
not to inconvenience her. Tucker had sensed Liz’s disappointment.

Liz had stressed that Harley would not be expected to wait on
R.H.
hand and foot. She would be regarded, not as a
domestic servant, but more as a guest who’d agreed to help out.

Unsurprisingly, no such offer of hospitality had been
extended to Tucker, although Liz had told
R.H.
that
he was there.

The job of packing and loading his things took less than ten
minutes. He sat in the driver’s seat and pondered whether this was a good thing
or not. Harley disappeared from the window and reappeared a few minutes later
in the passenger seat next to him. So much for trying to avoid her.

She said, “That was Phil. He said to tell you you’re not so
dumb, after all.”

Trying to match her studied nonchalance, Tucker said, “What
does
he
know?”

“He said he was calling from the… It sounded like the
castle
?”

“That’s Kitty’s parents’ house,” Tucker explained, suddenly
interested. “It’s about a quarter mile from here.”

“He said he wishes you could see it. All twenty-two rooms are
literally filled with multicolored balloons saying, I Love You, Kitty.’ Every
ceiling is covered with them. Kitty’s parents are not amused, but the boys are
thrilled. Kitty, too. She’s calling off the lawyers and going back to him. He
said it was like she was just looking for an excuse.”

“It worked!” he said. “Wow.”

“That was your idea? I guess you’re
not
so dumb.”

He couldn’t stop the grimace. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

There was an uncomfortable moment. Pressing on in her attempt
to make normal conversation, Harley said, “I asked Phil if this means the trade
is off now—your Jag for his house? And he laughed and said, ‘You didn’t really
think I meant that, did you? Can’t you take a joke?’ And I said I’d never been
able to, but I was working on it.” Tucker couldn’t help smiling. “His sons are
begging him to let them release the balloons over the Sound. He’s making them
wait all day in order to annoy ‘Lord and Lady Acton-Kemp’ as much as possible.
I’m to tell you to watch the sky around sundown.”