Running Wild (32 page)

“I’m sorry,” he said when she’d finished.

She frowned, befuddled. “Sorry? For what?”

“For . . .” He waved a hand to indicate her entire person.
“For that. I didn’t mean . . . I was angry. I was kinda rough. I hope I didn’t
hurt you.”

“Why, I suppose you were rather, um,
fierce
,” she
replied. Remembering the punishing fervor of those brandy-laced kisses, she ran
a finger over her lips. Swollen and tender now, but when he’d been kissing her
she could scarcely get enough of him.

“Fierce?” he said with a mirthless laugh. “That’s a nice way
of putting it. I just about—” He stopped and rubbed his eyes. “You didn’t say
no,” he said defensively.

Had he expected her to? Perhaps another woman would have.
Most wished for sweet courtship: poetry and music and pretty words of flattery.

Star preferred danger.

Although poetry from Nicholas might prove to be interesting,
she thought with a merry bubbling in her chest. She supposed that poetry from
him would be prone more to eroticism than flowers. The thought of him ever
being flowery almost made her laugh.

“You’re smiling,” he observed. His lovely blue eyes scanned
her face as if attempting to read every line.

“I am. I can scarcely help it, but if you wish, I shall try
for gravity.”

He shook his head but continued to peer at her with a
confused, critical eye. “No, I like your smile. Just don’t understand it after
how I treated you.” He paused a second. “I was angry. I’m not making excuses or
anything, just givin’ a reason. I thought—” He stopped and she could see in his
eyes an effort to find the right words. “I kinda thought that you’d been with
other men since . . . Anyhow, for thinking that I am
very
sorry.”

Frowning, she tilted her head in question. “With other men?
You mean in this way?”

He winced. “Yeah.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?”

“You’re still tight. Like on the beach. I don’t know much
about things like that, but I figure if there’d been somebody else. . .” He
shrugged.

Which had made him angry and caused him to treat her
roughly. Possessiveness? Or jealousy? Or both? At any event, it meant he
cared
,
at least a little, and that brought a loving glow to her chest. “I can’t claim
much knowledge either, but it doesn’t matter. There’s been no one else.”

He measured her with that haunted gaze, before a small grin
settled on his face. “Guess I was wrong then. Doubly sorry, too.”

It
was
jealousy—a dreadful, crippling emotion. Happy
though she was for the admission, she nevertheless could not bear to see him in
pain. “No one,” she repeated. “I can scarcely think of another man, Nicholas.
There’s only you.”

He inhaled deeply and the tension melted from his body like
hot liquid over ice. The grimness disappeared in his eyes and he gave her a
warm, face-splitting smile. “Well then—that’s good.”

“You’re relieved,” she said, amused.

“You’ve been kinda distant lately. You sure
looked
interested in those other fellas.”

“You may recall telling me to look elsewhere.”

“Yeah,” he said with a grimace. “Guess I did. Didn’t count
on you doin’ it, though.”

“I didn’t. Not actually.”

“Guess not.” He sat there, just looking at her for a minute,
the brightness of his eyes sending little rays of sunshine into her chest. At
length a light frown touched his brow. “
Did
I hurt you?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Hurt me?”

He nodded slowly. “I should’ve been gentler, being only the
second time. Should’ve been gentler the first time, too.” He shook his head
disgustedly and rubbed his neck. “Fact is, I’ve been a regular brute. I bet
you’re regretting your choice now, huh?”

Laughing a little, she shook her head. “No, in truth I’m
exceedingly satisfied with my choice. Yes, this time was a trifle rough,” she
said, flashing him a wicked smile, “but rather enjoyable all the same.”

“Rather?” he said darkly. “I’m flattered.”

“Why, I think you ought to be, although I haven’t got many
experiences to compare it to, you know!”

“Yeah,” he said, studying her. A short battle waged in his eyes
before he rose and offered her his hand. “Reckon I’m not happy leaving it at
‘rather’. Here, come with me.”

Lifting an eyebrow, she obeyed him. His touch and the fire
in his eyes sent delicious little thrills along her skin once again. He tucked
her hand under his arm and led her toward the door. “Why, where ever are you
taking me, Nicholas?”

“To bed.”

“But I’m not tired.”

“You’re not sleeping. We’re going to do this again, and
this
time we’re going to get it right.”

“Oh,” she said in a high whispery voice that barely sounded
like her own. “I thought we’d done it fairly well this last time.”

“Star, honey, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

***

Star had left two lamps burning low in her room, which
spread soft shadows over the mahogany and peach-upholstered furniture. Fresh
air from the storms had cooled the room, and the sound of a light rain on the
windowsill greeted them as Nicholas kicked the door shut. The blankets on her
four-poster bed were thrown back, erotic invitation trimmed in gold and white.

Nicholas released her elbow. He took hold of her waist and
turned her to face him. In the dim lighting his blue eyes were black, but
gleaming with passion. His gaze roamed her body, as if savoring the sight of
her, from her breasts to her belly to the juncture between her legs, and back
again. “Damn,” he said, huskily, “but you’re beautiful.”

“Too tall,” she felt compelled to remind him, “and too
muscular, and perhaps a bit fat—”

“Perfect,” he interrupted, his eyes glowing. “It’s all
perfect, you’re perfect, prettier than I even imagined, and I imagined a
lot
.”

“I’m just pointing out—”

He kissed her.

His lips were hard, his tongue plunging inside to whisk away
her words, vanquishing all protest. Her heart beat chaotically. She was not too
tall, nor too muscular, nor too masculine. In
his
eyes, she was
irresistible feminine temptation, proven downstairs, proven now by the feel of
him rising against her. The hard touch of his erection brought memories of him
moving inside of her, each thrust building bright, heady pleasure.

As he deepened the kiss, he moved her backward, forcing her
to step across her peach and aqua carpet until the bed met her backside. His
calloused palms coasted upward to pull at the buttons of her gown. “You won’t
need this,” he said, pulling it open. He pushed it off her shoulders, leaving
her fully naked in front of him.

She blushed under the fire in his gaze. Her lips were
suddenly dry, and she licked them. His eyes flashed to her mouth like metal
drawn to a magnet and her pulses flew. Her nerves grew taut in the lengthening
silence. Why wasn’t he doing something? Touch her, kiss her. . .

She couldn’t wait any longer. Itching for the feel of his
muscles flexing under her fingertips, she reached for the hem of his shirt.

His hands closed around her wrists. Another breath and he
flashed her his thought-destroying smile. “Not yet.”

“You don’t need it either . . . Nicholas, let me go. I want
to touch you.”

“Me too, but not yet. Your naked body against mine and it’ll
be over quick.”

“I thought,” she said, taking a deep breath, “that’s what we
wanted.”

With a rusty chuckle, he scooped her up as if she were as
light as a feather. He took the few steps toward the bed, brushed aside the
mosquito netting and then deposited her on it. The beautiful flexing of his
exposed forearms made her breathless.

“We had it quick already.” He sat down to kick off his shoes
before lying down next to her. “Now we’re taking it slow.” While running his
hands down her waist, he kissed her again. Gradually he moved his mouth sideways
to the sensitive skin of her neck, sending delightful little tingles over her
nerves. “I want to touch you, everywhere,” he whispered, running the palm of
his hand so lightly over her breast it was somewhere between a taunt and a
tickle. “And kiss you, everywhere, too.” His lips moved along the column of her
neck toward her breast. “And taste you, all of you, and drive you as wild as
you’ve driven me for months.” He kissed her breast, then circled her nipple
with his tongue. Ripples of excitement coursed downward, over her belly and
into that divine juncture between her legs.

“Nicholas. . . Oh! I love that!”

More light licks on her breast, before his mouth found the
other breast. His fingers gently teased the first, her nipple still wet and
slippery from his attentions. Closing her eyes, she gripped his shoulders as
she lost herself in the marvelous sensation. Licks became suckling, setting off
pulsating waves of pleasure. “Nicholas,” she gasped again. “I can’t take
anymore—it must be time . . .”

He didn’t listen. Instead, he gently scraped her nipple with
his teeth, causing tiny shards of exquisite pain, which somehow added to the
pleasure, especially when his tongue swept over it again. She buried her
fingers in his hair, not sure if she was holding his head to her breast or
trying to drag it away.

Both . . . .

His left hand skated down her waist to stroke the tender
skin of her inner thigh. The resulting rush of thrills joined with those from
his mouth on her breasts to pool between her legs. His hand crept nearer and
nearer to her pulsing bud. He suckled her nipple again, then he blew hot air on
it, bringing another mad rush. When she wiggled her hips, searching for
release, he raised his head. His hand rested. Moaning, she opened her eyes.

He was watching her, an expression on his face that she’d
never seen before. Lust, mixed with deep affection—it flowed over her like a
balmy ocean breeze, and settled around her heart.

“Why . . . why did you stop?”

“I wanted to see your eyes.” Holding her gaze, he let his
fingers wander through her folds, teasing, caressing, exploring. Upon finding
her cave, he inserted one, then two fingers, and her body closed convulsively
around him.

“Like that?” he asked, and flicked his thumb over her bud.

“Oh,” she gasped, her hips jerking in reaction. “Yes.”
Trembling, she reached for the bulge still hidden in his pants. “
Now
,
Nicholas.”

His muscles went rigid at her touch, and he clenched his
jaw. “Not yet.” He withdrew his fingers, slick now with her juices, and stroked
her pulsing bud. “Keep your eyes open. I want to see them when you come.”

The vulgarity, spoken in his low, smooth voice, flashed
along her nerves, creating rough carnal hunger. It spread across her belly,
between her thighs, setting them to shaking. “No. . . Oh no, I can’t. . .” Her
voiced drifted off, though, and she did as he asked. The pleasure built,
harder, stronger, out of control, while his hot gaze held hers, silently urging
her on. When she was mad with need, could bear no more, her back arched and her
climax crashed over her in waves. “Nick . . . oh my. . .”

His free hand tightened on her thigh. “
Damn, Star
,”
he rasped. “Damn, but that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Still shaking, she reached for his pants. “It will be better
with this.”

“Soon,” he promised, and moved to the edge of the bed, where
he tore off his clothes. When he returned to her, he was naked. She widened her
gaze to view him fully, drinking in all his beautiful male strength. Reaching
for him, she ran her hand over his lightly furred chest and followed the line
of dark hair toward his hard pulsing organ. He shifted so that he was looming
over her, his knees between her thighs, then swooped in to capture her breast
in another torturous kiss. Her body, as if it hadn’t just found release,
responded with a burst of excitement. He slid his mouth from her breast,
downward, blazing a winding trail of tiny, wet kisses across the flat expanse
of her ribcage toward her belly.

“What are you doing?” Oh, he couldn’t mean to kiss her
there
,
could he? She’d read of such things, but that was fiction.

“I told you, I want you wild,” he said, then circled her
belly button with his tongue.

“You already did that. Nick. . .” Ignoring her objections,
he continued the trail of kisses over her mound. “You can’t wish—”

“I’m going to taste you.”

“No—oh no, it can’t possibly taste good.”

He adjusted his body to insert his fingers inside her, and
she bucked as the fire of lust burned away all objection. She wanted to move,
to use his fingers to bring quick release, except his breath was warming her
private areas and every nerve in her body yearned for that next touch.

One kiss, followed by another, a mere touch of his lips. She
squirmed, holding back a desperate plea. He sucked in his breath, then expelled
it, letting it flow over her in the lightest of all caresses. A low whimper
escaped her.

“Man alive, but I love the way you smell. . .” Another kiss,
another whimper. “And the sounds you make when I touch you.” His tongue flicked
out.

She cried out.

He withdrew his fingers and his tongue followed the path his
fingers had made earlier, through the folds, leisurely exploring as desire
curled in her belly and the tickle expanded. Her heart hammered; blood pounded
in her ears. The tickle became an ache as she moaned and fought the writhing of
her hips, fearful he’d stop. Her legs shook. “Oh good gracious,” she panted.
“Please—I can’t—”

Her body convulsed and pleasure burst through her, spreading
outward in glorious contractions. She was hot, she was cold, she was beyond
thought. He shifted. His fingers touched her again, opened her, and he drove
inside, burying himself to the hilt. He withdrew, and then plunged into her
once more, grinding against her. It set off another fierce explosion. She let
out a tiny screech, mindlessly digging her nails into the sheets.