The Fairest of Them All (10 page)

Carly wavered. If she insisted, he’d take her back home. But she was emotionally and physically exhausted, and if she were honest with herself, she’d admit there was nowhere she’d rather be at this moment than with Russ Bradford. Carly shut off her mental processes. The implications of her thoughts were too disturbing, and she had a Jacuzzi bath waiting for her.

If this was his idea of friendship, she’d hate to see an all-out seduction. The soft floral scent Russ had added to the bath teased her nostrils. Carly took another sip of the wine and reluctantly rose from the swirling water. He’d warned her not to fall asleep in the tub or he’d have to come pull her out. She giggled. Now how could he pull her out and stick to the no-touch rule? She felt giddy and languid. “You belong in bed,” she told her hazy reflection sternly.

His bathroom was a retreat in white marble and jade. She squished her toes into the plush carpet. Surrounded by mirrors, Carly caught a glance of her peachy, damp skin and stared. For a moment, she imagined Russ seeing her this way. Her breasts felt full. Her nipples puckered. She licked her lips. The action was so provocative, she closed her eyes.

The room shifted and she laughed. The sound echoed lightly off the walls. She shouldn’t have drunk the wine, she realized. Sighing, she toweled herself diy, then pulled on Russ’s dark blue terry- cloth robe as she stepped into his bedroom.

The decor combined subtle jade and gray to create a soothing effect. A long oak dresser with assorted male toiletries and pocket change lined one wall of the large room. A heavy oak armoire occupied another wall. The matching nightstand held a softly lit hurricane lamp and book. Curious, she looked at the author’s name. Stephen King. Carly shook her head. Guaranteed nightmare material.

A P. Buckley Moss print of a young family settled in front of a roaring fire hung over his bed. The domesticity of the picture unsettled her. She heard a knock at the door and turned. Her heart beat faster. Pulling the robe around her more tightly, she said, “Come in.”

Russ pushed open the door. “You okay?”

“Sure. Just looking around. I don’t think I’ve seen this room since you remodeled.”

Russ grinned. “I would have been glad to show you.”

Carly turned away and finally looked at his bed. The bed he’d shared with several other women. Her insides twisted. “I think you’ve been busy showing others the last few years.”

She felt him come up behind her. “Not here, Carly,” he corrected quietly.

An inexplicable, yet boundless relief soared through her. “That’s a lovely picture,” she finally said to cover her seesaw emotions. “I didn’t know you liked this artist.”

Russ shifted, narrowing his eyes. “What did you expect?”

Carly shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing quite so, so familyish.”

“Maybe a giant nude centerfold?”

“Well?” She raised an eyebrow.

His expression changed faster than a heartbeat. His gaze fell over her slowly, missing nothing. She felt the scorching path of his eyes and drew a quick breath.

“I don’t need pictures.” He cleared his husky throat and moved to the bed, gesturing toward the nightclothes he’d left for her.

Carly glanced at the array. “You lied. Those are not three T-shirts.”

Russ gave a half-grin. “So sue me. Which one are you gonna wear? This one? It’s the color of your eyes.” The sight of his big, hard hands wrapped around the violet silk chemise sent a thundering sensation to her belly.

“What about this?” He held up a peach camisole. “Your skin is this color when you blush.” He ran his rough fingers over the lace bodice.

Carly sank weakly to the bed. “Umm,” she said around the giant lump in her throat. She snatched the clean, but well-worn University of Tennessee jersey from the bed. “I think this will do just fine.”

Russ took one last lingering look at the delicate pieces and let them slide from his fingers. Then he turned to the jersey. “I wore this my last season at UT.” He put his hands on his hips and shook his head, his eyes full of memories. “That shirt’s had a gallon of my sweat washed out of it. When we beat Georgia, a running back sprayed me with champagne. My mom got that out, but there’s a spot of blood that will be there forever.” Russ sobered. “That was when my dad died. I slammed my hand into a locker.”

Carly looked at him, feeling a powerful connection, an instant of deep mutual understanding. They’d both experienced grief, but they’d never truly shared it with each other. During that eye blink of time, the most private part of his mind met and merged with hers.

Then Russ seemed to remember he was breaking his own rule about keeping his deeper thoughts private. He gave an uneasy laugh and deliberately lightened his tone. “Bet you can’t wait to put it on, now, between the blood and sweat.”

She squeezed the faded yellow fabric and lifted it to her face. “Smells like fabric softener to me,” she said in the same light vein, because the moment seemed incredibly intimate. She couldn’t put a name to her feelings. They were too strong, too turbulent.

Russ looked with approval at her on his bed, cuddling his jersey against her neck and chest. He wished he were in that jersey. “I need to let you get some sleep,” he said reluctantly. “Do you need anything?”

He watched her slowly shake her head. Her gaze remained on his as he backed toward the door. He’d better leave quickly. The sight of her on his bed was almost more than he could take. But Carly needed to hear herself make that move as much as he did, he knew.

Russ cleared his throat. “G’night. Let me know . . His voice trailed off.

“. . . if I need anything.” She nodded. “I will.”

He closed the door and headed for the liquor cabinet.

“This is crazy,” Carly whispered to herself after he left. The situation was impossible. If she had any sense, she’d put on her clothes and demand that Russ take her home. But she knew she had no intention of doing that. The next most sensible alternative was for her to pull on the old jersey, get into bed, turn out the light, and go to sleep.

Carly stripped off the robe and yanked the jersey over her head. Standing in the middle of the carpet, she felt completely surrounded. The room was his, the bed was his, the jersey was his. And she couldn’t have felt less sleepy.

Rest! Who could rest? Russ Bradford was a pure shot of adrenaline to her system. Her body tingled and burned with unwanted restlessness. She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. Maybe she should run around his house a few times. Maybe she could use his weight room.
Maybe she should take a cold shower.

Carly groaned. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but something inside her had shifted. Something had softened and yielded. The question of making love with Russ was no longer if. It was when. The desire she felt for him was as strong as the ocean’s undertow, relentlessly pulling her farther and farther from safe shore. Carly closed her eyes. She only hoped she’d find a way back after the waves crashed.

The decision was made, she realized. She tried to take a deep breath but it seemed to catch in her throat. She touched her cheeks and found her skin burning as if she’d stayed out in the sun too long. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation. The only thing she could compare it to was the nervousness and excitement she’d felt before giving an oral book report in elementary school.

But she was no longer a little girl. She was a woman filled with need and desire for a man who was ready and willing to take her places she’d never been. She opened her eyes, and her gaze fell on the black high heels she’d discarded earlier. Before she lost her nerve, she stepped into them and started walking.

• • •

“Big mistake, bud,” Russ muttered to himself. He stared at the second glass of whiskey and shook his head. The first one hadn’t done a bit of good. This idea had been a huge mistake. The notion of Carly in his bed without him had his body screaming with outrage. He should be with her, touching her, kissing her, learning her pleasure and teaching her about his. Instead, he was sitting at his kitchen table trying to subdue a libido that would leave most teenage males in the dust.

He should be committed to the Beulah County mental facility. If things didn’t change soon, he thought he probably would be.

He took another drink and hissed at the strong bitter taste. Then, hearing a sound, he turned his head and his heart just plain stopped.

The jersey ended midthigh, displaying her long silky legs to his gaze. On her feet were the heels. He blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Yep, she had on the heels.

She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. She was chewing on her bottom lip, and her eyes were huge violet pools of uncertainty and desire.

“I, uh, I couldn’t sleep,” she said in a husky voice.

Russ couldn’t help it. His gaze kept returning to her heels and the significance of her wearing them. He cleared his throat. “Neither could I.”

She walked forward until she stood directly in front of him. Bending down, she touched the rim of his glass. “Y-Y-You don’t n-need that.” She jerked her hand to cover her mouth.

The slight stutter shook him. Russ watched her eyes fill with panic. She was embarrassed, he saw, and she looked ready to run. In one quick motion, he stood and reached for her. Then he paused, leaving his hands suspended a millimeter away from her skin. He gave a tight grin. “No touch.”

Her eyelids fluttered downward, shielding her expression from him. Then lifting her hand ever so slowly, she raised it to his, matching palm to palm, thumb to thumb, and fingers to fingers. He watched in awe as she twined her soft, small hand with his and drew his hand to her mouth. An earthquake couldn’t have affected him more than the sensation of her velvety lips against his skin. His heart pounded hard against his chest.

Unable to wait a second longer, he pulled her against him. “Are you sure?” he asked, praying she wouldn’t change her mind.

“Completely, but I don’t have any— I mean, I didn’t bring anything—”

Russ hugged her and kissed her hair. “I’ll take care of it.” He pulled back and looked at her. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I haven’t, you know, done—” She broke off and swallowed.

“I know. It’ll be okay.” He brushed her tousled hair back. “I promise.” Then he hooked an arm beneath her legs and picked her up.

Caught off guard by the chivalrous gesture, she groped for her voice. “Is this part of the program?”

Russ shook his head slowly. “Everything’s new tonight.”

He lowered his head and kissed her. The room swam like a kaleidoscope and before Carly knew it they were in his bedroom and she was falling down on his big bed. She bounced against the plush quilt. A playful smile started inside her and spread to her lips.

Russ stood over her, unbuttoning his shirt and grinning back at her. He imprisoned one of her ankles firmly in his hand. Using only his index finger, he removed one high-heeled pump. He dangled it from his finger for a moment before he allowed it to drop to the floor.

Carly’s heart was racing a mile a minute; still she couldn’t prevent the giddy laugh that formed in her throat. “I thought you’d want me to keep them on.”

Russ chuckled in return. It was a deep, naughty sound. “I figured you might get wild with passion and I’d be left with spike wounds in my back.” He ran a finger down the naked sole of her foot.

She curled her toes. “Good thinking. I’d—” She sucked in a deep breath when he brought her foot to his lips and gently nibbled on her toe. All rational thought flew from her mind.

“Yes?” he prompted, as he discarded the other shoe and began to give the other foot equal attention.

Carly squirmed beneath his amused, wicked gaze. “Yes?” she repeated.

“You were saying?” His knee dug into the quilt as he leaned forward and skimmed his hard palms up her calves, past her knee to her lower thigh.

“I was?” Carly shook her head to clear it but the sensual fog hovered stubbornly.

Russ chuckled again, then bent to kiss her. All his kisses and touches over the last weeks, every teasing remark, and the times he’d said he wanted her, had kept her simmering for weeks. Simmering and unsatisfied. Hungry and eager, she welcomed his exploring mouth and tongue. Following his gentle sucking motion, she drew him deep into her mouth.

When he tried to gentle his caress, she ran her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer. He groaned and slanted his mouth against hers voraciously, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. The playfulness that had tempered the passion vanished. Now there was only hot, aggressive need.

He pulled his mouth from hers and rested it against her shoulder, his breath coming unevenly. “Gotta slow down,” he muttered. “Slow and easy.” He seemed to be coaching himself.

Carly shook her head. “No,” she whispered breathlessly. She couldn’t joke anymore. The commotion inside her was riding the edge of pleasure and uncontrollable excitement. “I don’t want slow and easy. I want you.”

“Oh, Lord.” He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

With unerring feminine instinct, Carly knew halfmeasures wouldn’t do. It was suddenly essential that she give herself to Russ as she’d never given herself before. Shameless and a little desperate, she reached up and slowly slid her tongue around his damp lips. “Then I guess you’re gonna have to teach me.”

Russ closed his eyes and tightened his grip on her shoulders. His big body shuddered.

Shifting slightly, Carly raised one knee so that she cradled him between her thighs. She felt his arousal and moved, once, experimentally, against him. He opened his eyes, and Carly’s heart jolted at his expression. His face was taut, his brown eyes singed her with raw male hunger.

He thrust forward against her moist, silk-covered femininity, revealing the full force and implication of his intent. Her mouth went dry. Her body burned, steamy and feverish, from the inside out. Yet, he still seemed hesitant.