Love Me Knots (7 page)

David scrubbed his face with his hand. She valued her independence. After the way her father had cut her off, showing her in no small way that he controlled her at his whim, she refused to be indebted to anyone. The trust she’d been granted on her twenty-seventh birthday had been Elmore’s bribe, she’d said, because her actual fund shouldn’t have come into maturity until she turned thirty-five. Returning her access to his money was her father’s way of trying to get her back. She’d left every penny in there as her answer.

Until now.

Guilt a stone in his belly, he followed her down the hall. He reached the doorway of her bedroom in time to hear the water from a shower turning on. Any other day, he wouldn’t have thought twice about going in, or even joining her, but this didn’t seem the right time. For whatever reason, she didn’t feel connected to him anymore. It would be an even worse violation than demanding he had a right to her room.

He waited, if not patiently then quietly, while the water made pattering ripples on his imagination. He’d memorized her form almost from the first moment they met. As she bathed, he pictured her standing under the flow, trying to imagine the changes a child would make to her curves. Her breasts would be fuller, her belly curving outward inch by inch. Would they see the little hands and feet, pushing at her skin? Or would it only be something they’d have to feel? Would she let him be there to help her stay steady on the stairs to her condo? Would she let him be there to welcome their child into the world?

Scented steam drifted out of the bedroom. He had always wanted a family of his own. His mother’s death and his father’s distance left him aching for someone to talk to. Back in those days, it had been the dream of siblings, a dream he never put any stock into as his father rejected any possibility of remarriage. Later, he thought how fulfilling it had to be to have a houseful of children. Small people with huge expectations of grand holidays and weekends. People he could learn from as well as teach, as he had done with his own parent. But would this child be the only one he ever had? And how likely was he to be able to provide all that boisterousness that he craved on his own? In that respect, he definitely didn’t want to be like his father. He’d never wanted to be a parent alone. He wanted to be a parent with Krista.

She’d make an incredible mother. She was singularly patient. She had this slow smile that made you feel a thousand times more impressive than you were, for doing nearly nothing at all. And she had that habit of touching all the time. A hand on your hand. A touch to the side of the face. A caress across the back of the shoulders. As if she just wanted to remind you that you mattered to her.

He’d become addicted to those touches. Starved for them. But had he ever given any? He knew how to give her pleasure in bed. How to lead her there. But was Taylor right? Had he been negligent in giving Krista any sign at all that she mattered to
him
?

He frowned, his head jerking up at the sudden cutting off of the water. Stepping into the room, he blinked when she came out of the bathroom, yanking at the too-small towel she was trying to wrap around herself. He almost said something to remind her that there were most likely a dozen larger towels in the bathroom, but if she was too irritated with her own mistake to go back, she wouldn’t take his advice well. Meaning to help, he scooped the fluffy hotel robe off the back of the chair near the door and tried to fit it over her shoulders.

Krista spun with a shrieked gasp, her hands landing on his chest, faint moisture seeping through the fabric. “My God, David, you scared me half to death.”

“I didn’t mean to.” The same way he didn’t mean to notice that her towel had landed on his shoes. His hands tightened on the edges of the robe, pulling it around her shoulders. He bundled her with it, determined to ignore his inevitable physical reaction to her. He roped his arm around her back, willing her not to fight him. If she walked nude in front of him, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

Her eyes widened when her hips pressed against his, but all he did was shake his head at her. She reared her head back, definitely intending to yank herself free of him. David lifted his hand from her shoulder, touching her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

Not sexual, he thought, willing her to understand. Just a touch to show he cared.

She stilled instantly, like a doe scenting danger, but unsure which direction was safe to go. “What are you doing?”

“Communicating.” He touched her cheek again, captivated by the soft silk of her skin.

“This doesn’t
feel
like communicating.” Her head tilted into his caress. That was good, wasn’t it?

“Because you’re not listening.” He let her go, hoping she’d stay close, trusting that she would. He dipped his fingers into her hair, tilting her head back just a little, so she could meet his gaze with those sleepy eyes of hers. Her lips parted in response, but she didn’t move away. The wet strands snaked over and under his fingertips before releasing him. Rather than repeat the stroke, he concentrated on how she often touched him. Fingers flexed open, he slid his palm down her arm, his hand grazing dewy drops of moisture and guiding them carefully along the length of her limb. When he reached the end, the next natural step was to take hold of her hand.

“This isn’t a good idea,” she burbled suddenly, unsteadily backing up half a step.

David followed instinctively. She still hadn’t let go of his hand. That had to mean something. He knew it did. He cupped her jaw, lowering his face to slide against the side of hers, putting his mouth close to her ear. “I just want you to hear me.”

“David…” Her whisper, laced with confusion, tore at him. Why didn’t she understand? He could hear the hurt in her, feel it in the tremble of her lips against his jaw. He clenched his eyes shut, wanting to wrap his arms around her just as tight.

She shook her head. “This isn’t helping anything.”

“Yes it is.” He let his hand duck under the open edge of the robe to grasp her still-slick hip. He continued to stroke her cheekbone with his thumb, drawing small circles along the curve. Her breath shuddered across his throat. “I’m trying to tell you. I know you can hear it, the same way I hear it from you.
Hear
me, Krista.”

It took a moment—a long, trembling moment—before she leaned into him, her body softening. Warm, welcoming. Perfect.

He let his stroking hand course up her back, feather light, dipping over each contour of her ribs. Following the outer swell of her breast to where it joined the muscle that led to her shoulder. It was a deep groove, a purely feminine line he would give anything to put his mouth to and worship. He traced it back down, his touch circling the deep mauve point of her nipple. It was already taut, but he rubbed it gently anyway, before covering it with his palm. Her heartbeat fluttered wildly under his hand. He bowed his head to press a kiss there, over her breastbone. Chaste. Not to seduce, though he knew that’s where this would likely end. But not before she knew, without a doubt, that he wasn’t trying to silence her. He wasn’t trying to force her to stay. He just wanted her to know how much she meant to him.

He would kiss every inch of her body, soothe her with touch, give her an infinite amount of time and every drop of his effort. She needed to feel what he couldn’t seem to say in a way she’d accept. She wanted smooth and flowery words. Not struggles. Not tangled thoughts that defied explanation. He might never be able to give that to her, but there was no mistaking his meaning this way. If he’d wanted just sex, he could take it and she’d enjoy it, but it wouldn’t be
this
. This was loving her, promising her everything he was. Only her. Only ever her.

“Please, David, don’t do this to me,” she murmured and he froze.

“Do what?” he asked carefully, breathing in the soft floral scent of her skin. As he said the words, his lips grazed the highest curve of her breast. His mouth watered, wanting a taste.

Her voice was thick, an almost strangled whisper. “You’re trying to make me feel and it’s not fair.”

What wasn’t fair about it?
He
felt. Or didn’t that matter? “Nothing about this situation is fair,” he decided, thinking of how much she needed that he hadn’t seen, hadn’t realized she wanted. It wasn’t fair at all that he’d been so unprepared to give any of it to her. But he could learn. He was learning right now. “We can fix that.”

“With sex?” Her ire was starting to get past the desirous glaze to her eyes.

“No.”

The ire disappeared, eclipsed by a flinch of true pain. She closed her eyes, slowly, her body somehow heavier with the weight of her disappointment. Damn it. Before he could fix the bluntness of his tone, she started pushing at him, her cheeks red now for all the wrong reasons. Her gaze stayed on the floor at their feet. “David—”

He couldn’t hear her tell him no. Couldn’t let her go, though he knew he should. He covered her lips with his, taking a wet, desperate taste of her. Her hands curled around his biceps and for a second, he was sure she was going to shove him. He held her tighter, deepened the kiss until he felt as if he were drowning in her. If this were the last kiss, the last time he’d hold her this way, he needed it to last.

Except, she didn’t shove. Frozen for precious seconds, she did nothing, her response completely absent. Then, when he almost gave up, her grip tightened and her tongue darted against his once, twice, before laving in a full, sensual stroke.

Taking his first relieved breath since waking up to find her gone, David let his hand drift from her jaw, easing to the back of her head to guide her into a better angle. A deeper angle. She moaned her approval, tugging urgently for more. He filled both hands with her breasts now, releasing her mouth so he could taste the mounds in his palms.

Yes, he’d had the right word before. Worship. Putting every feeling he had into her hands, across her shoulders, down her belly to the heart of her. Delving into her, drinking her down and diving in for more. But to do it the way he wanted, he had to lay her back, give her a soft place to relax. He lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist and took her to the bed. He stepped on the robe as he strode toward it, lowering them both onto the thick duvet.

The moisture on her skin seeped through his shirt when he lay fully above her. She stared up at him through passion-stained eyes, that flush of color he loved to see pinking her skin from her nipples to her cheeks.

David caressed her lips with his, drifting over her jaw, down her throat. He licked at her nipple, laving it while he copied the motion on the other nipple with his thumb. She shifted restlessly and he drew the peak into his mouth, sucking hard and gently pinching on the other side. Her hands clenched at his wrist and in his hair, holding him in place. She quivered beneath him, reacting to each touch as if it were a firebrand.

Against her whimpers, he continued down her body, moving down her open thighs until he faced her open folds, already glistening for him. He touched her first, petting the swollen outer lips lightly. He watched her face, watched her bite her lower lip to keep from crying out when he parted them and circled the edge of her opening. The cry escaped when he did the same to her erect clitoris. Sliding a finger on each side of it, he lowered his mouth and slowly, carefully, let his tongue surround it.

It was hard not to smile while she screamed, her sex fluttering around the finger he’d slid deep at the same time.

He let her ride the wave of her orgasm, soothing her with gentle swipes of his tongue, letting her internal muscles squeeze around his fingers with only the slightest motion of his hand. He wanted her to fully enjoy each and every explosion of passion he could give her. So when her breath became slow and relaxed, he began all over again. Licking the sweetness from between the folds, replacing his finger with his tongue, sinking it inside her, pulling free only so he could suck at her clitoris again, driving them both into a frenzy he only vaguely realized he wasn’t controlling. All that mattered was bringing her to a new height, drowning her in sensation the same way she drowned him. Until words didn’t matter any more and all either of them could do was feel.

He meant to be gentle, to be careful with her, but he was ravenous and she wasn’t complaining. She was insensate, her nails scratching his shoulders, even after he folded her knees upward—almost to the mattress—so that he could tongue deeper. But it wasn’t enough. They both needed more. Needed now…

He rose up, already yanking at his shirt to pull it up over his shoulders like a T-shirt. He stopped, though, at the sight of tears streaming from her eyes. She’d cried the last time, too, and he’d ruined everything by not paying good enough attention. Letting his need for everything to be just fine get in the way. Not this time.

He reached out, touching her temple where the tears had melded into her wet hair. “Don’t cry, Krista.”

She shook her head, her lips shaking. “Why are you doing this to me? I’m finally trying to do the right thing for both of us. Why are you making this so hard?”

His whole body ached to join with hers. To ignore the emotional storm in her eyes. Instead, he reached for her hand, lifting it so he could place it over his heart. “You know why.”

She pulled her hand free. “Missing me isn’t love, David.”

“Then what is it?” What was it that made him feel absolutely hollowed out at the thought of never being with her again? Never touching her, never seeing her smile at him with that complete abandon that only she had. Wasn’t it love, then, that drove him past all reason and sense whenever she needed anything from him? That drove him to put her needs—the ones he knew about, anyway—ahead of his own? That made him willing to give up anything, even his soul, if she just asked for it?