Love Songs (17 page)

“How can you be so sure?” she cried in exasperation.

“Sure that you love me? There are several ways. Right now I can tell from your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

He nodded, sending a dashing swath of brown hair lower onto his forehead. “They’re dry. You just spoke of your mother and of a very painful time in your life. It had to be difficult to recall it, but you didn’t cry.”

“I never cry—” She fell quickly into his trap.

“You did last night. If I’m correct that was the first time in years.
Am
I correct?”

He had begun to encroach more deeply on things that had puzzled her all day. Yet she could not deny the truth. “Yes.”

To her astonishment a slow smile spread across his face, lighting it magnificently. “I’m glad, Alanna. Don’t you see? The fact that you were able to cry out all that hurt and anger and loneliness to
me
, of all people, says something. The fact that you made love to me,” he arched one brow, “says something, too.”

She couldn’t argue.

He paused and slid his arms around her, drawing her up to stand against him. “When you first told me about Harding you said you had loved him.”

“I thought I did … at the time.” Her voice was muffled against the warmth of his shirt and the broad expanse of chest beneath. The sweet nearness of him blinded her to this latest trap.

“Were you disturbed when you broke up?” He spoke softly against her hair, seemingly content to hold her close.

“At first I was. But I got over it very quickly. I think that’s when I realized that what I’d felt was not quite love.…”

“You didn’t rush off to get involved with anyone else.…”

“No. I told you, I’ve never felt strongly enough about anyone…” At last, she caught his train of thought and her words drifted off.

Alex smiled, tentatively at first, then more broadly. “You see? That’s another sign of your love for me. You let
me
know you.”

“You trapped me into that,” she pouted, more disturbed than angry.

“But it stands. You aren’t a loose woman, Alanna. You wouldn’t have stayed with me last night if you hadn’t felt something special. And you certainly wouldn’t agree to stay with me tonight just for the fun of it!”

“Fun—hah!” She sought refuge in mockery. “All you want to do is lecture me.”

“That’s not all I want to do and you well know it.” The hands that pressed her insinuatingly against him elaborated meaningfully. “I love you, Alanna. I’m not afraid to say it. Nor am I afraid to show it.” With that he swept her into his arms and sauntered toward the hallway leading off the living room.

“Alex!” she cried, squirming only until his arms tightened. “Aren’t you being a little overdramatic? I mean, I
can
walk.”

“Just setting precedent, love. I’m going to enjoy carrying you to bed over the years.”

“Alex … you agreed not to push.…”

Her feet touched the thick pile carpet of his bedroom. “So I did,” he drawled quite unrepentantly. “Now don’t move!” He moved to adjust the lights until a single recessed fixture cast its gentle illumination around the room. Alanna had time only to absorb the masculine aura of the bold chocolates and whites of walls, rugs and furnishings before he deftly flipped back the dark-patterned bedspread and returned to her. His hands framed her face as he kissed her long and hard, stealing her breath with the force of his emotion. “Now,” he crooned deeply, drawing his head back far enough to let him encompass all of her in his gaze, “I intend to show you exactly how much I love you.”

“How much you
think
you love me,” she returned in a whisper, referring to their earlier argument. At her smile his eyes narrowed, small crinkles of mischief radiating out from their corners.

“That’s not even worth an argument, Alanna. But you keep telling yourself that. Maybe it will temper your response.…”

There was something challenging in his tone and in the dark charcoal-gray beams that seared into her intensely. “Are you trying to tell me something that I don’t already know, Alex?”

“What I’m doing,” he rejoined without pause, “is daring you to keep that upper lip steady. I’ll just bet you can’t lie before me and be passive. Though if you don’t love me it shouldn’t be that hard to resist a response.”

“Come on,” she chided, “you know that the body has a will of its own, Alex.”

“But your will is strong, love. If you work hard enough to show me that your feelings for me fall short you should be able to stay still, regardless of what I do.”

“You make it sound dangerous,” she quipped nervously.

“Are you up to the bet? While I show you how much I do love you, you can show me how much you
don’t
love
me.
”

“This is foolish.”

“Ready to give in already?”

“No way!” She stiffened her spine, driven by frustration to resist him. “You aren’t all
that
irresistible, you know.” With a deep breath she drew herself up even straighter. Chin tilted at a bold angle, hands fallen loosely by her sides, eyes lit in defiance, she waited, offering herself as a willing opponent. If for no other reason than to take him down a peg or two, she was determined to withstand the sensory onslaught that she knew would follow. Unfortunately she had underestimated the force of his determination.

Alex was the consummate master, speaking volumes with his eyes as he moved to within inches of her, leaving her shaking before he’d even touched her. His hands were gentle as they tipped her face up, his lips sweet in possession. She relaxed instinctively against him, then caught herself up short. His mouth opened wider, consuming her lips with thorough care, seeming to drain them of every bit of the rigidity she tried to instill. When her lips parted limply his tongue plunged within to probe the recesses of her inner warmth. Alanna steeled herself against the tantalizing foray, but darting tongues of desire licked at her nerve ends in a passion now far beyond her control.

Still she resisted. She reminded herself of his challenge and of what was at stake. But Alex’s kiss taunted her for her futile attempt at concentration, tugging at her lips one final time as he drew back to look down at her. The pale light gentled his features, imbuing him with an aura of innocence.

“Not bad, owl-eyes.” He grinned his compliment to her marginal success. He seemed undaunted and undisturbed, not in the least discouraged. Oh, yes, she mused, Alex Knight thrived in the ring! Reaching up, he removed her glasses and placed them carefully onto the shelf that comprised the headboard of the bed. Alanna watched his lazy motion, sensing in his languor its intended sensuality. His every move was smooth and fluid, athletic prowess in his every step. Helplessly she surveyed his lean frame, appreciating anew his head-to-toe virility, then telling herself of her immunity to it—between traitorous palpitations of her heart.

He took great pains with her hair, removing each pin, gathering them in a cluster in his palm and placing the lot on his dresser before finally combing the spill of blond silk with his fingers. As though enchanted he spread the strands about her shoulders.

“You seem to be operating in slow motion tonight. Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked evenly, dismayed when the indifference she had tried to inject into her voice emerged as impatience.

Alex grinned wickedly. “Every … last … minute.”

Plunging his fingers into the thickness of her hair, he brought her lips to his once more. And this time he kissed her with a passion that left her dizzy. Dizzy and feeling heady. For with the knowledge that she could draw this man out to his fullest came pure delight. In this state of satisfaction Alanna responded reflexively.

“Uh-uh,” he chided against her lips. “Giving up already?”

“No. No!” She caught herself up once again. “Just relaxing for a minute. It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t let it,” he drawled in warning, “or you’ll never make it. You’ve got to be strong!”

She tried. Oh, how she tried! She tried to ignore the lips that tickled her neck and throat. She tried to ignore the fingers that reached for the zipper of her dress. She tried to ignore the eroticism of his long, drawn-out siege as he slid it slowly down, his fingers feathering along the line of her spine. It was very, very difficult.

He had to feel the wild beat of her heart when his hands slid beneath the fabric of the dress and around her shoulders, coaxing the fabric down, following to hold the fullness of her breasts. This time she gasped aloud.

“So soon, love?” he goaded her mischievously. “This is nothing!”

Nothing?
Nothing the faint roughness of his fingertips as they crept under the lace of her bra to tease her nipple to arousal? Nothing the thumbs that then dipped beneath the straps to lower them and allow her taut, round breasts to fall free? Nothing the mouth that trailed down her neck and nibbled at her shoulder blade before taking those hardened tips, first one, then the other, within?

Alanna barely stifled another cry. When Alex drawled a smug accusation she was quick to explain the hands that clutched his shoulders. “I’m not responding,” her singsong tone wavered. “I’m only trying to hold myself up.”

“No need.” Nudging her backward, he followed her easily onto the bed, covering her body with his. As he kissed her again he purposely let her feel the weight of his body. Alanna balled her fists in frustration. She ached to run her palms along the length of him, to feel the swell of his muscles and the texture of his skin against her fingertips. She wanted to kiss his flesh and taste the tang that was his alone. All she could do, however, was to lie in muted agony, breathing in his manly scent, struggling not to give in to the piercing arrows of need. When his lips finally left hers she moaned.

“Throwing in the towel, love?”

“Oh, no,” she gasped. “No.”

His mouth silenced her as his hands went back to work, dispensing with her bra and her remaining clothes with a haste that hinted at a certain gratifying wear and tear on
his
composure. Dress, slip, panty hose—all fell to the floor in the flurry. Then, his chest heaving slightly, he stood back to savor her.

“Your hands are clenched, Alanna. Is something wrong?”

Alanna was ready to explode from within. “No, no. What could be wrong? What could be more natural—”

“—than to lie naked before your lover?” he finished for her, expressing her unwilling thought precisely. His eyes caressed her beauty, beaming a molten heat along her skin.

Alanna swallowed thickly. She hadn’t pictured herself as a sacrifice to the gods, yet here she was, helpless. Infinitely vulnerable and frantically clutching at the last straws of control. Was there, as Alex claimed, more to the attraction than the purely physical?

In a move that was subliminally arousing, Alex deftly shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it casually over a nearby chair. Alanna’s throat constricted as she watched lean, male fingers draw off an already loosened tie. Those same fingers moved over the buttons of his shirt, releasing each, pulling the tails from his pants, tossing the shirt aside. His chest was a bold expanse of bronze lightly hazed with brown; his arms were sinewed and strong. She wanted to throw herself at him then; only his relentlessly watchful gaze restrained her.

Her mouth was dry. Absently she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. She watched helplessly as his hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it, unfastening his trousers. Within moments he stood before her, as nude as she. And then he approached. Propping himself on flattened palms, he leaned with maddening grace toward her.

“How can you be so cruel?” she rasped hoarsely, nearing the end of her tether.

“Cruel?” He feigned hurt. “It’s not every day that I strip for a woman.”

“Thank heaven!” she whispered, then waited for him to lower himself further. “Well…?”

His grin was a knowing one. “Well what?”

Pride slipped inexorably through her whitened fingers until she was left with only the agony of wanting him. “Aren’t you going to come to me?”

“In time.” His answering whisper was low.

“Alex…” It was half warning, half pleading, inspired by her awareness of the bronzed perfection looming over her. He was inches away … yet too far. At that moment she knew him to be the key—the key to release the lock that barred her from fulfillment. It no longer mattered that, prior to meeting him, she hadn’t even known the lock was in place. What mattered was that she needed him now.

With that realization went the last shreds of her tattered control. Reaching for him, she bridged the distance in an instant and stretched against him, coiling her arms tightly around his neck. Her weight, light as it was, brought his body down on top of hers, but not his head. That was tipped back so that he could see her clearly.

“You admit defeat?” He baited her one last time.

And Alanna reveled in that defeat. “I lose, I lose!” she declared with a conviction that was replaced by urgency when she touched him. Her hands hungered and devoured, making up for what seemed a lost eternity. To her further joy her loss of control triggered his. With a deep and soulful groan he made her his. The heat of the union fused them together, binding them as they moved to the age-old rhythm of passion. Forgotten now was the game they had played, its outcome secure from the start.