Show & Tell (12 page)

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than an altogether different sensation took hold. Several sensations, in fact. The simultaneous registration of her sweet scent, the press of her body and the proximity of her lips hit him all at once. His heart thundered in his chest, pumping his blood that much faster to his groin. Fire licked through his veins, and he burned with the need to possess her, to lay her down, spread her thighs and bury himself so deeply into
her that there would be no beginning and no end, just
them.

Savannah's eyes darkened with desire, the heat burning away any vestiges of lingering humor. He could feel the quickened puff of her breath against his lips, heard her swallow.

Knox's blood roared in his ears, drowning out any would-be protests. He'd kissed her repeatedly since the beginning of this damned workshop, but it had always been at Edgar or Rupali's prompting. He hadn't taken the plunge and made the conscious decision to kiss her, taste her of his own accord. But he was making that decision now—he couldn't help himself—and he wanted her to know the difference and, more important, to feel it.

Knox gently cupped her face, held her gaze until his lips brushed lightly over hers. He hovered on a precipice, he knew, yet he didn't possess the power to keep from plunging headlong over it. Then his eyelids fluttered closed under the exquisite weight of some unnamed emotion…and he sighed…and eagerly embraced the fall.

S
AVANNAH HAD KNOWN
the moment that her brow touched his that she'd made a tactical error—she'd touched him. She knew, didn't she, that she couldn't touch Knox without melting like a Popsicle on the Fourth of July? She knew, and yet it hadn't made one iota of difference because she simply could not resist him. She had been inexplicably drawn to him from the moment she'd first seen him, had been lusting after him in secret torment every day since.

Just seconds ago, she'd watched the humor fade from his gaze, chased away by the power of a darker, more primal emotion. His entire body had grown taut, and then, as though he'd made some momentous decision, she'd discerned a shift in his posture. Then those amazing hands she'd imagined roaming all over her body in all sorts of wicked acts of depravity had cupped her face in a gesture so truly sweet she'd almost wept with the tenderness of it.

In the half second before his lips touched hers, Savannah realized the import of that soft touch, and her heart, along with the rest of her wayward body, had all but melted.

Knox Webber wanted her.
At long last.

With a sigh of utter satisfaction, Savannah eagerly met his mouth, threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him the way she'd always dreamed of kissing him. She poured every single ounce of belated desire into the melding of their mouths and was rewarded when Knox responded with a hungry growl of pleasure. The masculine sound reverberated in her own mouth, making her smile against his lips. His tongue slid over hers, plundered and plumbed, a game of seek and retreat that soon had Savannah's insides hot, muddled and quivering with want.

Knox molded her to him, slid those talented hands down her back and over her rump, and back up again. His hands burned a heated trail of sensation everywhere they touched and she longed to have them plumping her swollen breasts, sliding over her belly and lower, then lower still until his fingers worked their magic on the part of her that needed release most of all.

As though he'd read her mind, Knox smoothed his hand up her rib cage and cupped one pouting breast. She sagged under the torment of the sensation and, with a groan of satisfaction, Knox followed her down upon the bed. His warmth wrapped around her and the long, hot length of him nudged her hip.

She sucked in a harsh breath between their joined mouths and then sent her hands on their own little exploration of his body. The smooth, hard muscles of his shoulders, down the slim indention of his spine
and back over the tautened sinews of his magnificently formed back.

Having mapped that terrain, she moved onto the sleek slope of his chest, the bumpy ridges of his abdomen, and over one impossibly lean hip. He was magnificent, the most perfectly put-together man she'd ever laid her greedy little hands upon. She claimed each perfection as her own.
Mine,
Savannah thought as she grasped his shoulders once more.
Mine,
she thought again as she slid her hand down his side.
Mine, mine, mine,
with each new part.

All mine.

Savannah winced as the
kurta
bunched annoyingly beneath her hungry hands. Knox had thrown one heavily muscled thigh across her leg and Savannah had the hem in her hand and had begun to swiftly tug it up his body before the significance of what she was doing surfaced in her lust-ridden brain.

Swallowing a cry of regret, she tore her mouth from his and pried his hand off her breast. “We can't…do this,” she breathed brokenly.

Knox's lips curled in invitation and he nuzzled the side of her neck. “Oh, but we can,” he told her. He tugged at the neckline of her
kurta,
attempted to bare her breast. “Come on, I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Savannah dragged his head away from her neck and ignored the fizzle of warmth his wicked lips had created. Ignored his invitation to play a sexy game
of show-and-tell. “Knox,” she said desperately. “
Think.
We can't—”

“Thinking is overrated. In fact, you've told me repeatedly that I should try not to think. Remember? Something about it upsetting the delicate balance of my constitution.” He bent his head and sucked her aching nipple into his mouth through the soft cotton fabric. The shock of pure sensation arched her off the bed and rent a silent gasp from her throat.

Sweet heaven.

Though it nearly killed her, Savannah wrenched his head from her breast. “Stop. We have to talk. We can't—”

“Talk?” Knox tsked and thumbed her nipple distractingly. “You know we can't talk for more than two minutes without arguing. This is a much more agreeable way to pass the time and you know it.” He slid his fingers up her thigh and brushed her feminine curls.

Savannah bit her bottom lip and whimpered, resisted the urge to press herself against those teasing fingers. Knox took her hesitation as permission, and gently stroked her through the fabric.

She squirmed with need and her clit throbbed and her womb grew even heavier with want, but Savannah managed to stay his hand with a will born of stubborn desperation. “
Listen,
please,” she insisted breathlessly. “We can't do this
now.
”

She watched Knox's sinfully sculpted lips ready a protest, but the
now
registered a second before he
could push the sound from his lips. He arched a sulky brow. “What do you mean
now?
”

“The rule,” Savannah reminded impatiently. “No sex until tomorrow night.”

For better or for worse, she'd just told Knox Webber that she'd sleep with him tomorrow night, Savannah realized. She refused to consider anything beyond Sunday, anything that might remotely resemble second thoughts or regrets. She'd wanted Knox…forever. There was simply no other way for this weekend to end. She'd known the outcome, had known this would happen, the moment Chapman had commanded that she come to this workshop.

And, though it sounded like a lame excuse, at least they would know for sure if there was any real merit to the tantric way. They would be able to lend true credibility to their story.

That should please Knox, anyway, Savannah thought with a prick of regret. After all, that's what had brought them here.

“Are you saying what I think that you're saying?” Knox asked carefully. Desire tempered with caution glinted in that sexy green gaze.

Savannah swallowed tightly. “Yes, I am.” She managed a shaky grin. “It's inevitable, right? And then there's the story to consider.”

A shadow shifted over his face and he grew unnaturally still. “The story?”

“Right.” Savannah shrugged out from under him and stood. “I mean, how can we really tell our read
ers if there is any truth to the whole concept of tantric sex if we don't try it?”

Knox stared at her for several seconds with a curiously unreadable look, then he abruptly smiled, but it lacked his typical humor. “You're right. We need to do it, we need to sacrifice ourselves, for the sake of the integrity of our story.”

There was subtle sarcastic tone to Knox's voice that needled Savannah. Honestly, she didn't think it would be that big a damned sacrifice. Clearly she'd said something that had pissed him off, but she didn't have a clue what that something could be.
Sacrifice?
she wondered again, even more perturbed. If she hadn't stopped him just a few minutes ago, they'd undoubtedly be enjoying the aftermath of an earth-shattering orgasm, and yet now—because he'd have to wait until tomorrow—he was sacrificing himself? Well, to hell with him, Savannah thought.

“I'm going for a walk,” she said tightly, and headed for the door. She was embarrassingly close to tears.

“Savannah, wait,” Knox said. He muttered a hot oath and pushed a hand through his hair. “I'm bungling this.”

She paused and turned around. “Bungling what?”

His tortured gaze met hers and held it. “If we make love here tomorrow night, it's not going to have anything to do with a damned story,” he said heatedly. “At least, not for me. I want you, dammit—I want you more than anything—but it doesn't
have anything to do with getting a story. And I certainly don't expect you, nor want you, to sleep with me for the sake of one. Do you understand?”

Something light and warm moved into her chest and swelled. She blinked, swallowed. “I think I'm getting it.”

“Good.”

“I'm still going for a walk.”

He nodded.

Savannah opened the door, then paused. “Just so you know,” she said haltingly, “it wouldn't have been about the story for me, either.” Her wobbly smile made an encore appearance. “It was only a face-saver, you know, in case you regretted things later.”

His steady green gaze rooted her to the floor with its intensity. “I won't regret it.”

“Neither will I,” Savannah murmured, and prayed fervently that statement proved to be true.

 

“D
ON'T WE NEED TO GET
that last chakra out of the way before we go to breakfast?” Knox asked. He didn't want anything besides
Love His Lingam
and
Sacred Goddess Stimulation
between him and Savannah after they wound up classes today.

“Yes, we do,” she called from the bathroom. “Just let me finish my hair and we'll go over it.”

Her hair, Knox thought with part chuckle, part snort. Well, he had several minutes then and he would use them to think about everything that had
happened between him and Savannah last night. She'd cut her walk short—after catching Chuck and his hand making love on the front porch—and when she'd returned, they'd lain in the dark and talked and laughed until the wee hours of the morning.

They'd talked about everything from favorite soft drinks, to work, and a multitude of subjects in between. Had even managed to agree—after
much
discussion—on what angle to use for this story. Knox had picked up on a great deal of hostility between her and Chapman, but when he'd asked, naturally she'd clammed up and quickly changed the subject. Knox didn't know what had happened to create such animosity, but as soon as he returned to Chicago, he was determined to find out. If not from Savannah, then from a different source.

Journalists didn't come any finer, more professional, than Savannah Reeves. If there was a problem, undoubtedly it was on Chapman's end, not hers. And if that were the case, and Chapman had been treating her unfairly, he would soon be held accountable. Knox's hands involuntarily balled into fists. Boss or no, Chapman would pay.

Savannah finally emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel Knox mentally willed to fall off but, to his regret, didn't. Other than a hint of makeup and the fresh look of her, Knox could discern no significant difference. Her hair still looked as if it had been hit with a weed-whacker, then combed with a garden rake. He grinned. Adorably messy, as always.

Catching his smile, Savannah's steps faltered as she went to put her things into her overnight bag. “What are you smiling about?” she asked cautiously.

Knox rested his chin on his thumb and index finger. “Your hair,” he replied honestly.

She rolled her eyes. “This is as good as it gets. If you're ashamed to be seen with me, I suggest you get over it.”

“Who said anything about being ashamed? I like it.”

She shot him a look. “Right.”

“I do,” Knox insisted. “It looks all messy, like you just rolled out of bed.”

She heaved a resigned sigh. “Wow, Romeo. Is that supposed to be a compliment? Gonna write me an Ode to Bed Head?”

“Of course it's a compliment. Your normally quick wit seems a little sluggish this morning. Didn't you hear the part about the bed?”

“Yes, and I fail to see the relevance.”

“Of course, you don't. You're not a man.”

Savannah's lips curled. “Another brilliant observation. The power of your deductive reasoning astounds me.”

“Aw, hell. Think for a minute, Savannah. If I look at you and think that you just look like you rolled out of bed, then what other things am I likely to think about?”

“Bad breath, drool, pillow creases—”

Knox chuckled. “You're thinking like a woman. Think—”

Her eyes widened in mock astonishment. “Imagine that.”

“Come on. Think like a man,” Knox told her.

Savannah shrugged. “I don't know. I—”

“Then I'll tell you. I'm thinking about what you were wearing in that bed. Do you sleep in the nude, in a T-shirt or a silk teddy? What have you been doing in that bed? Better yet, what could you do with me—or—to me in that bed? What would I do to you if I had you in bed? What would—”

“I've got it,” Savannah interrupted, her face flushed. “You look at my hair and think about sex.”

“Right.”

“Knox, when do you look at a woman and
not
think about sex?”

“I've just paid you a compliment, right?”

“I suppose.”

“Then the proper response is thank you,” he said, reminding her of the proper compliment etiquette she'd been so quick to share with him.

A slow grin trembled into place. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” He smiled contentedly. “Now what about that crown chakra?”

Savannah pulled her
kurta
on over her head, tugged it into place and then shimmied out of the towel. What a dirty trick, Knox thought. He'd been nice enough to drop his towel for her and she couldn't show a little consideration and reciprocate
the gesture? “I'll get the book,” she said drolly. “You just sit there.”

Knox frowned innocently. “What? What did I do now?”

“Couldn't you have gotten this book and gone over it yourself while I was getting ready?”

“No.”

She looked taken aback at his simple, honest reply. “Why the hell not?”