Summer Love - Page 61

“By letting you think that I was something I’m not.”

“You’re not a beautiful, interesting woman? A passionate woman?” He lifted a brow as he studied her. “Rebecca, I have too much pride to ever believe you could deceive me that completely.”

He was confusing her—deliberately, she was sure. “I told you what I’d done.”

“What you’d done,” he agreed. “And how you’d done it.” He brought his hand to her throat again, this time in a caress. His anger hadn’t made her knees weak. She felt them tremble now at his tenderness. “Selling your possessions and flying to Paris for a new hairstyle. Quitting your job and grabbing life with both hands. You fascinate me.” Her eyes stayed open wide when he brushed his lips over hers. “I think the time is nearly over when you’ll be so easily flattered. It’s almost a pity.” He drew her closer, slowly, while his mouth touched hers. Relief coursed through him as he felt her melt and give. “Do you think it was your background that attracted me?”

“You were angry,” she managed.

“Yes, angry at the idea that I had been part of your experiment. Furious,” he added before he deepened the kiss. “Furious that I had been of only passing interest.” She was heating in his arms, just as he remembered, just as he needed, softening, strengthening. “Shall I tell you how angry? Shall I tell you that for two weeks I couldn’t work, couldn’t think, couldn’t function, because you were everywhere I looked and nowhere to be found?”

“I had to go.” She was already tugging at his shirt to find the flesh beneath. To touch him again, just for a moment. To be touched by him. “When you said you regretted making love…” Her own words brought her back. Quickly she dropped her hands and stepped away.

He stared at her for a moment, then abruptly swore and began to pace. “I’ve never thought myself this big a fool. I hurt you that night in a much different way than I’d believed. Then I handled it with less finesse than I might the most unimportant business transaction.” He paused, sighing. For the first time she saw clearly how incredibly weary he was.

“You’re tired. Please, sit down. Let me fix you something.”

He took a moment to press his fingers to his eyes. Again he wanted to laugh—while he strangled her. She was exactly what he needed, what he understood. Yet at the same time she baffled him.

“You weaken me, Rebecca, and bring out the fool I’d forgotten I could be. I’m surprised you allowed me to set foot into your home. You should have—” As quickly as the anger had come, it faded. As quickly as the tension had formed, it eased. Everything he’d needed to see was in her eyes. Carefully now, he drew a deep breath. A man wasn’t always handed so many chances at happiness.

“Rebecca, I never regretted making love with you.” He stopped her from turning with the lightest of touches on her shoulder. “I regretted only the way it happened. Too much need and too little care. I regret, I’ll always regret that for your first time there was fire but no warmth.” He took her hands in his and brought them to his lips.

“It was beautiful.”

“In its way.” His fingers tightened on hers. Still so innocent, he thought. Still so generous. “It was not kind or patient or tender, as love should be the first time.”

She felt hope rise in her heart again. “None of that mattered.”

“It mattered, more than I can ever tell you. After, when you told me everything, it only mattered more. If I had done what my instincts told me to do that night you would never have left me. But I thought you needed time before you could bear to have me touch you again.” Slowly, gently, he drew the tip of her finger into his mouth and watched her eyes cloud over. “Let me show you what I should have shown you then.” With her hands locked in his, he looked into her eyes. “Do you want me?”

It was time for the truth. “Yes.”

He lifted her into his arms and heard her breath catch. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

When he smiled, her heart turned over. “Rebecca, I must ask you one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“Do you have a bed?”

She felt her cheeks heat even as she laughed. “In there.”

She was trembling. It reminded him how careful he had to be, how precious this moment was to both of them. The sun washed over the bed, over them, as he lay beside her. And kissed her—only kissed her, softly, deeply, thoroughly, until her arms slipped from around him to fall bonelessly to her sides. She trembled still as he murmured to her, as his lips brushed over her cheeks, her throat.

He had shown her the desperation love could cause, the sharp-edged pleasure, the speed and the fury. Now he showed her that love could mean serenity and sweetness.

And she showed him.

He had thought to teach her, not to learn, to reassure her but not to be comforted. But he learned, and he was comforted. The need was there, as strong as it had been the first time. But strength was tempered with patience. As he slipped his hands down her robe to part it, to slide it away from her skin, he felt no need to hurry. He could delight in the way the sun slanted across her body, in the way her flesh warmed to his touch.

Her breath was as unsteady as her hands as she undressed him. But not from nerves. She understood that now. She felt strong and capable and certain. Anticipation made her tremble. Pleasure made her shudder. She gave a sigh that purred out of her lips as she arched against his seeking hands. Then he nipped lightly at her breast and she bounded from serenity to passion in one breathless leap.

Still he moved slowly, guiding her into a kind of heated torment she’d never experienced. Desire boiled in her, and his name sprang to her lips and her body coiled like a spring. Chaining down his own need, he set hers free and watched as she flew over the first peak.

“Only for me,” he murmured as she went limp in his arms. “Only for me, Rebecca.” With his own passions strapped, he slipped into her, determined to watch her build again. “Tell me you love me. Look at me and tell me.”