Safe Harbor (19 page)

“For a long time,” she said, her voice low and
velvety in the candlelit room, “all I wanted was to be in control
of my life. I wanted to be self-reliant, to make my own decisions,
to prove to myself that I didn’t need anyone. My mother used to say
she was afraid to travel solo. Well, that was what I wanted to
do—travel solo.”

“Do you still want that?” he asked.

“It’s a part of me now,” she explained. “It’s
not something I have to want anymore. It’s a part of my life.”
Lapsing into thought, she gazed at the reflection of the candles’
delicate flames on the surface of her wine. After a moment she
lifted her eyes back to Kip. “Until you came to the island, I was
so afraid of losing that control that I didn’t dare to make room in
my life for anyone else. I’m not afraid anymore. You’ve proven that
I can like a man without losing my autonomy, that I can be friends
with a man and still travel solo.”

“And that’s what you want?”

“More than anything.” She set down her glass,
reached across the table and clasped his hand. “And so...I thank
you.”

A great deal passed between them in that
embrace of hands, more than they’d communicated with words. When,
at long last, Shelley pulled her hand away and rose from her chair,
Kip felt as if he had absorbed the essence of her touch, as if it
would always be inside him.

He stood and blew out the candles. Without
speaking—without having to say anything—they gathered the dishes
and brought them to the kitchen. They worked smoothly together,
neither having to tell the other what to do. Kip wrapped the
leftovers and placed them in the refrigerator; Shelley scraped the
dishes and stacked them in the sink; Kip washed, Shelley dried.
Every now and then his eyes would meet hers and they would
smile.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt
this content. Amanda wasn’t with him but he still felt good,
without guilt or grief gnawing at the edges of his happiness,
without an aching void in his soul.

When the dishes were all put away, Shelley
glanced at her wristwatch and sighed. “I really should be going,”
she said.

Nodding, he took her hand and strolled with her
out of the kitchen, down the hall and through the front door. The
fog had thickened with nightfall; the air was cool and damp,
dulling the outlines of the porch railing, the red maple and the
Chevy Blazer in the driveway.

He continued to hold her hand as they ambled
through the dense mist to the car. He wanted to speak, but he
wasn’t sure what to say. So much had already been said, so many
emotions revealed. A bond had been created between them, a promise
sealed.

Maybe he didn’t have to say anything, other
than good-bye. He could say that without qualms now, because no
matter whether he sailed across the sound or flew across the
continent, Shelley would remain in his life in some vital
way.

At her car she stopped and turned to face him.
“I’ll try to stop by the pharmacy tomorrow,” he said.

“If you can. You’re going to be pretty busy
packing.”

“I’ll make the time.” He lifted his hands to
her shoulders and pulled her toward him for a farewell
kiss.

She looped her arms around his waist and
touched her mouth to his. He was startled by the unexpected
stirring in his body, the sudden flash of sensation along his nerve
endings as her lips brushed innocently over his. She had such soft
lips.

He wasn’t certain if what he heard was a gust
of wind or the catch of her breath. Her eyes peered into his,
questioning.

The only answer
he could think of was
yes
. He wanted this. He wanted to
kiss her again.

He bowed and pressed his mouth cautiously to
hers. His pulse drummed in his temples as her lips moved against
his with equal caution.

They were friends. He hadn’t desired a woman in
so long. Shelley trusted him.

He angled his head just enough to fuse his
mouth to hers. The sound he heard was definitely her breath, a tiny
gasp followed by a hushed, lyrical sigh as her mouth opened beneath
his. Their tongues found each other, first shy and then eager,
tangling and tempting, mating with wild abandon.

He groaned. It had been so long since he had
wanted this, so long since he’d been with a woman he could want
this way. His body hummed with yearning. His muscles flexed and
strained; his skin begged for the feel of a woman’s hands on it.
Shelley’s hands.

Shelley
.

With great reluctance he broke the kiss. He
couldn’t do this to her. They’d just established that they were
true, trusting friends. No matter how much he wanted her at this
moment, he would never do anything to undermine their
friendship.

That was what he meant to say. Only one word
emerged, though: “Stay.”

She looked up at him. Her eyes glittered
enigmatically; her lips looked as alluring as they’d felt. It took
all his willpower not to crush his mouth to hers and deny her the
chance to speak.

She appeared on the verge of shaking her head.
She withdrew her hands from his waist, then lifted them to his
chest. He waited for her to push him away.

After an endless moment, she let her fingers
drift up to his shoulders. They molded to him, trailed towards his
arms and back again, exploring, curious, undecided. Her gaze held
his; her lips remained gently parted, air passing between them in
shallow breaths.

Moonlight fought its way through the heavy fog.
The light in her eyes was much brighter, illuminating her face. A
smile whispered over her lips.

She guided his mouth back to hers.

Chapter Nine

HE LED HER THROUGH the moonlit room to his bed.
After folding down the covers, he beckoned her to sit on the edge
of mattress. He knelt on the floor in front of her and gazed up
into her face. It seemed both familiar and strange to him, her eyes
bright in a way he’d never seen them before, her lips curved in a
knowing smile. This had not been an impulsive decision on her part.
She understood what she was doing in Kip’s room. She had willingly
chosen to come here.

He turned his attention to her feet, easing off
her shoes and setting them aside. He skimmed his hands up her legs,
beneath her skirt, along the outer edges of her thighs. Her breath
grew short but she didn’t object.

He raised his eyes back to hers. She lifted her
hips so he could remove her nylons. Her skin felt warm against his
fingertips, silky. His hands shook slightly as he peeled down her
stockings and panties.

He prayed she knew how much this meant to him,
how important she was to him. He prayed that after so many months
of self-imposed abstinence—in thought as well as deed—he would be
able to contain himself, to please her, to make this as special for
her as it was for him.

The temptation to run his fingers back up her
naked legs was too great. He forced himself to pull his hands away,
then rose and sat on the bed beside her. As he unfastened the top
button of her blouse she plucked his eyeglasses off and placed them
on the night table. “I don’t want to break your nose,” she said
with a smile.

Remembering, he grinned. They had been so
earnest that night in the cupola twelve years ago, practicing their
kisses and assessing the results, two solemn students trying to get
it right. Two intimate friends.

He kissed her chin, her nose, the lid of each
eye, the corners of her smile. His body remained tense with
anticipation, but his mind and his heart relaxed. His soul vibrated
with laughter as well as passion. If any woman could see him
through his first attempt to throw off the past and become a
complete man once more, it was Shelley. He trusted no other woman
the way he trusted her.

They attacked each other’s clothes, pulling,
tugging, unbuttoning, unbuckling, shifting and wriggling until they
were both naked. Kip guided Shelley down to the mattress, centering
her head on a pillow. Her tall, beautiful body extended nearly the
length of the bed.

He caressed her skin—not silk, he decided, but
satin, smooth and supple, a tactile delight spread out before him,
awaiting the pleasure of his touch. He traced her collarbones, her
sternum, her firm, round breasts. He circled one nipple, then
rubbed it with his thumb and felt it stiffen, felt threads of
arousal tightening below the surface. Once he’d teased the other
nipple into the same exquisite condition, he let his hand journey
lower, over her ribs, her stomach, over the sharp point of her
hipbone, over the sleek contour of her thigh.

She touched him, too, probing the strong arch
of his back, twining her fingers through the wiry hair of his
chest, strumming along his ribs, down over the muscles of his
abdomen and lower, making a brief but daring foray into the thick,
dark hair at his groin. Her glancing caress caused him to suck in a
shaky breath.

The trembling inside his soul grew fiercer,
less laughter than need now, but he did his best to ignore it, to
take his time. He’d waited over a year for this; he could wait a
few minutes longer. He had to be sure Shelley was with him, the
moment right for her.

His mouth sought hers, capturing it in a
devouring kiss as his hands continued to roam over her. She bent
her leg, offering him her knee; he took more than she offered,
abandoning the knee for her thigh, massaging the smooth, warm flesh
and savoring her hushed moan as he moved his hand
upward.

Her hips arched in silent beseechment. He
obeyed her unspoken demand, cupping his hand between her legs and
sinking his fingers into her. She cried out, her smile gone, her
eyes half-closed as he circled and dipped, steeping her in her own
sweet arousal. One of her hands dug into his shoulder and the other
darted down between their bodies, seeking, finding him, stroking
until his need for her became unbearable.

He rose onto her, pulled her legs around him,
slid into the pulsing heat of her. So good, he thought as she
arched again, drawing him deeper. She felt so good, so perfect, as
if she had been shaped just for him, as if the tight, damp darkness
of her had been waiting for this instant, this union. As if his
body had been waiting for no one but her.

They moved together, finding their rhythm,
letting their instincts take over. As strong and brave as Shelley
had always been, now she was tender, delicate, unabashedly
feminine. Her skin felt incredibly soft against his, her breasts
soft beneath the firm muscles of his chest, her lips soft as his
tongue plundered her mouth, her gasps of rapture so soft, so
heavenly. Her enveloping warmth so unspeakably soft as he surged
within her.

He leaned back to gaze down at her. Her eyes
were still half-closed, glazed but steady, watching him as he
watched her. Her teeth were clamped around her lower lip and her
hips rose to meet his thrusts. Her body grew taut beneath him,
striving, reaching. She molded her hands to his hips and held him
motionless inside her.

He caught his breath and went still as he felt
the contractions seize her, the exquisite bliss of her climax
overtaking her, pounding through her flesh, culminating in a
tremulous groan torn from the depths of her soul. And then he let
go.

He was all sensation, all energy, exploding
with ecstasy. He’d forgotten what this was like; he hadn’t let
himself remember. He’d forgotten, until this moment with this
woman, the freedom, the relief, the stunning pleasure of
it.

This was what it meant to be alive—and now,
after so many long months, he was alive again. Shelley had brought
him back to life.

Exhausted, he collapsed into her arms. His body
felt weak; his mind drifted. Not until he felt her stirring
languidly under his smothering weight did he regain full
consciousness. He began to lift himself off her, but she wouldn’t
release him. She ringed her arms around his waist and held him to
her, nestled between her legs, allowing him only to brace himself
with his arms so she could breathe more easily.

Her hair was splayed across the pillow, her
lower lip still bearing the imprint of her teeth. Her eyes searched
his face, luminous yet unreadable.

“Was that all right?” he asked in a hushed,
hoarse voice.

Her eyes widened, and an laugh escaped her.
“Should I grade you on a scale of one to ten?”

He opened his
mouth to explain that what he needed to know was whether
they
were all right,
whether after what they’d just shared they could still be friends.
Yet her joke was all the answer he needed. It reminded him that
their relationship was strong and enduring, that this was not the
first time they had strayed beyond the safe boundaries of
friendship, and that no matter what they’d done she could still
laugh with him and tease him.

He mirrored her smile. “Okay. On a scale of one
to ten...?”

She frowned in concentration, then announced
her verdict: “Eight.”

Eight
? Shit. If he’d been the
scorekeeper he would have given this a ten. A ten
thousand.