Amanda Ashley (17 page)

“Don't be afraid,” he whispered.

“I'm not,” she replied, but it was a lie and they both knew it.

“Kara, we don't have to do this.”

“No, I want to, really . . .”

Alex took a deep breath. Perhaps he was rushing her. He couldn't blame her for being anxious and uncertain. With a sigh, he slipped his arm around her and drew her close. He felt the tension thrumming through her, could almost hear the fierce pounding of her heart.

“Relax, Kara. I'm just going to hold you, nothing more.” Gently, he rubbed his knuckles over her cheek, his movements slow and soothing.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's all right, Kara. It's better this way. When this mess with Barrett is over, I'll take you home.”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn't going to work.”

“Alex . . .” She started to rise, but he held her in place.

“It won't work between us,” he said quietly. “I was a fool to think otherwise.” He stilled her protest by placing his hand over her mouth. “No matter how much alike we are, Kara, I'm afraid it will never be enough to overcome our differences. I think you'll always be a little afraid of me, and I can't live with you, knowing that. I don't blame you
for the way you feel. It's natural to be afraid of what we don't understand.”

Kara took his hand from her mouth, pushed his other arm away, and sat up.

“You idiot! I'm not afraid of you. Don't you think I know you won't hurt me? Honestly, Alexander Claybourne, sometimes you make me want to scream!”

He stared up at her, his brow furrowed. “I don't understand.”

Kara let out a huff of exasperation. “Men! The only thing I'm nervous about is . . . is that I've never . . .” She shook her head, wondering why it was so hard to say what was on her mind. “I've never gone all the way before, you jerk, and I feel stupid because I'm so nervous, and I don't know why. I know what's involved, I know how it's done, I've just never done it! And I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. . . .”

Her voice trailed off and she looked away, feeling incredibly stupid.

“That's what this is all about? You're afraid you'll disappoint me?”

She nodded, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. She was supposed to be a grown woman, but she suddenly felt as if she was fifteen years old and out on her first date.

“Kara . . .”

“I love you, Alex,” she whispered.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her onto his chest. “And I love you. Never forget it. Never doubt it for a minute. I love you. . . .”

Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her gently. And that kiss burned away all of Kara's doubts
and fears. She loved him. She wanted him. And he was there.

His kisses, the touch of his hands, were like magic. Eager, unashamed, she explored the man who held her heart and soul. She rained kisses over his broad shoulders, across his chest, down his belly. She ran her hands over the muscles in his arms and legs. She made him turn over so she could press kisses to his back; she ran her tongue over his spine, intrigued by the rough texture of ridged flesh, the contrast between that and the smooth skin on his shoulders.

Vulnerable and acquiescent, Alex let her get acquainted with his body, let her touch and caress him until she had satisfied her curiosity, until he was certain she knew every inch of his body as well as she knew her own. It was the most exquisite torture he had ever endured, lying there while her warm hands and soft lips moved over him, arousing him until he ached with need.

She trailed her fingertips over the ridged flesh of his spine, and he groaned with pleasure so deep it was almost pain, a pleasure he had thought never to feel again. On ErAdona, when a woman stroked a man's spine in such an intimate fashion, it meant she had agreed to be his life mate. Once she touched him there, they were considered mated even though no words had been spoken. It was also a source of great sexual pleasure.

“What is it?” Kara asked. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I thought I'd hurt you.”

“No, Kara, quite the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“Touch me again, Kara. Run your hands over my back.”

“Like this?”

Alex closed his eyes, drowning in sensation, as she massaged his back, pausing now and then to run her tongue along his spine.

Kara laughed softly as the evidence of his desire grew unmistakable. “I seem to have touched on an ErAdonian erogenous zone,” she mused.

His purr of contentment was loud and rough, like the muted roar of a lion.

She reveled in the knowledge that she had brought him pleasure, and then she heard him groan again, saw the fire blazing in his eyes, and the laughter died in her throat. How cruel she was to tease and torment, she thought, and how patient he was to let her do it.

But he wasn't the only one in distress. You couldn't play with fire without getting burned, and she yearned for him, ached for him, in the deepest core of her being.

“Now, Alex,” she murmured, and waited impatiently as he sheathed himself in protection before tucking her beneath him.

And then he was a part of her, his body a warm, sweet invasion of her flesh, and she knew that she had been born for this moment, this man, and that nothing in her life would ever be the same again.

Later, while she lay in a near-drugged state of completion, he fetched a bowl of warm water and bathed her from head to foot, washing away the stain of her maidenhead, the perspiration that had dried on her skin. He bathed her gently, almost reverently, and she thought she had never felt so pampered, so cherished, in all her life.

“I love you, Alex.”

“And I you,
natayah.
”

“You called me that once before. What does it mean?”

“Beloved one.”

“Na-tay-ah.”
She tried the word on her tongue, liking the sound of it, the way he had looked at her when he said it.

Alex quickly washed himself, then slid into bed and drew Kara into his arms again. “Are you all right?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't I be?”

“I was afraid I might have hurt you.”

“No. It was wonderful.” She grinned. “Was it good for you?”

Alex chuckled. “Indeed.”

“As good as . . .”

“As?”

“I don't suppose you've lived like a monk for the last two hundred years.”

“No.” He lifted one brow in disbelief. “Don't tell me you're jealous of those women?”

“Of course not.”

“Kara.” He drew her closer, holding her body tightly to his. “I paid them for the use of their bodies. There was never any more to it than that. Never.”

She nodded. He had answered her question, and she believed him, but he had been in love before, been married before, and she couldn't help wondering how it had been with his wife.

Caught up in the aftermath of their lovemaking, trying not to be jealous of a woman who had been dead for over a hundred years, she forgot that, when he chose, he could read her mind.

“Kara.” Lifting himself on one elbow, Alex gazed down into her eyes. “I love you beyond words. You've given me new hope for the future, restored my passion for life, for living. I've never felt this way about another woman. Never.”

He took a deep breath, unable to ignore the guilt that rose in his heart as he realized that what he had felt for AnnaMara paled beside the love he felt for Kara. He had never loved any woman the way he loved this gentle earth woman; should he live another two hundred years, he knew he would never love like this again.

“I'm sorry, Alex. I know I have no right to be jealous. I know you loved her.”

He nodded. “But it was never like this, Kara. I loved her. I would have died for her, but she never filled my heart, my thoughts, my very soul, the way you do.”

“Oh, Alex . . .”

Touched to the depths of her being, Kara slipped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Alex. Maybe I am jealous, but I can't help it. I . . . I wish I could have been the first woman in your life.”

“Ah, Kara,” he murmured helplessly.

Blinking back her tears, she smiled up at him. “I'm going to make you forget those other women, Alexander Claybourne. If it takes the rest of my life, I'm going to make you forget there was ever anyone else.”

“I'm at your mercy,
natayah,
” he replied, grinning. “Do to me whatever you wish. . . .”

“I'm serious.” She dragged her hands down his chest, raked her nails along the insides of his thighs, then ran her palms along the sensitive flesh
of his spine. “I'm going to burn those women out of your mind and heart.”

“I'm already burning,” he said, his voice silky with desire. “Can't you feel the flame?”

“Oh, yes,” Kara said, laughing softly as the evidence of his desire swelled against her belly. “Oh, yes.”

And then she was on fire, too, writhing in the inferno of desire that burned between them, and for Kara there was only Alex, and for him there was only Kara, always and forever Kara, burning away the memories of the past, and he knew his life hadn't truly begun until he met the woman he held in his arms, and in his heart.

Kara woke slowly, unwilling to surrender the beautiful dream she'd been having. And then she felt Alexander's breath caress her neck, felt the welcome weight of his leg lying across hers, the heat of his palm curved over her breast, and she knew it hadn't been a dream at all.

Turning her head, she saw Alex sleeping beside her. Thick black lashes lay upon his cheeks. His lips, full and sensuous, were slightly parted. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, marveling anew at the width of his shoulders. Just looking at him was enough to make her heart beat fast, make her yearn to touch him, to run her fingers over his chest and feel the smooth warmth of his skin. How strong and handsome he was! And how much she loved him, this man from a distant planet.

Two hundred years, she thought. He had been on earth for two hundred years. The things he must have seen, the changes, the wars, the advancements in science and medicine, and yet how infantile it all must seem to him. His people had achieved space travel in a time when her ancestors were still commuting by horse and buggy.

Two hundred years, and in all that time, he had been alone. She ached for him, ached in the deepest reaches of her heart and soul, as she tried to imagine what it had been like for him, a stranger in a strange world, afraid to reveal the truth of who he was, afraid to trust those around him, forced to live forever in the shadows.

The curve of his jaw tempted her touch and she traced the outline with her fingertip.

“I'll make it up to you,” she whispered. “I don't know how, but I will. I promise.”

“Make what up to me?”

His voice, low and husky with sleep, startled her. “You're awake,” she exclaimed softly.

He made a soft sound of assent as he opened his eyes. Placing one hand behind her head, he drew her closer, claiming her lips with his. “What are you going to make up to me, Kara?”

She shook her head as she felt a faint blush creep into her cheeks. “Nothing.”

His lips nibbled at her ear. “Tell me.”

“I was thinking how awful it must have been for you these past two hundred years, living alone, needing . . . someone to love. . . .” She took a deep breath, embarrassed that he had overheard her words. “I . . . I want to make you forget all those lonely years and . . .” Her gaze slid away from his. It sounded so silly when spoken aloud.

“Go on,” he coaxed softly.

“I want to make you happy, Alex.”

“You already make me happy.”

“Do I?”

Nodding, he trailed his fingertips down her cheek. “More happy than I've ever been in my life.”

“I'm glad.”

Needing to touch him, she ran her hands over his shoulders, then slid her arms around his waist and hugged him close. Restless with wanting him, she caressed his back, her fingertips exploring the ridge of flesh along his spine. It didn't repel her now. It was a part of him, a part of who and what he was.

And it was all so incredible.

She knew so little about him, about his past, she was suddenly filled with questions. “Is Alexander the name you were born with?”

He shook his head. “I was named HeshLon, after my paternal grandfather.”

“HeshLon.” She repeated the name, liking the sound of it. “Where did the name Alexander Claybourne come from?”

“The phone book,” he said with a wry grin.

“I like HeshLon,” she said. “It suits you. Tell me, what are houses like where you come from? Do your people sleep in beds and cook on stoves?”

Alex grinned, surprised it had taken her curiosity so long to emerge. “Yes,
natayah,
we sleep in beds and cook on stoves, although our stoves are powered by our sun rather than electricity. Our houses are very similar to yours in design and function, although they're built of different materials.”

“Like what?”

“They're made of a kind of, I don't know, plastic brick, I guess you'd call it. It warms our houses in
the winter, and cools them in the summer.”

“Really? That's amazing.” She sat up, her curiosity building. “Is your food the same as ours?”

“In a way.” Sitting up, he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her up against him. “We have fruits and vegetables and a kind of bread. Our animals are also much the same as yours,” he went on, anticipating her next question. “We have fourlegged beasts and birds and insects, and animals that produce milk. Some are used for food, although meat is eaten sparingly on ErAdona.”

“What did you do before you came to earth? Did you have a job?”

“I was what you would call a mining engineer.”

“Really? What did you mine?”