Standing in the Shadows (19 page)

"Theoretically, sure."

She rushed on, eager to get the thought out while it was still intact. "My period is as regular as clockwork, and it ended night before last, so I'm probably not—"

"Probably being the key word. Erin, I'm so turned on, I'm lucky if I don't come in my pants right now just looking at you. You can't ask me not to come inside you. Not the first time, anyway, and probably not the second time, either. Because I can't promise it."

Another thought occurred to her. "I'm sorry, I should've said this sooner. If you're thinking about being safe, I can tell you my sexual history in about a minute, and everything I've done has always been with a condom, so—"

"No, Erin. Actually, that was the last thing on my mind," he said gently. "But since we're on the subject, I always made a point of being safe, too. And I tested negative on my last physical, which was before the coma, and all that. And I haven't been with anyone since long before then. So, uh… just so you know."

"Thanks," she murmured. "That's a very long time." Not as long as her own spell of celibacy, of course, but she was a special case. "So, we could do, urn, other things, couldn't we?"

His smile was slow, sexy, merciless. "Oh yeah? What things?"

"Oh, there are lots of possibilities." She tried to sound casual.

"Name them for me," he said softly. "Tell me your favorites."

Her eyes dropped. "I can't," she whispered.

He pulled her against him. "That's about what I figured."

She hid her face against his chest. He didn't feel like he was losing interest just because she was shy and inexpert, judging by the hot bulge pressed against her belly. That was promising.

He wound his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and tilted her head back. "Would you tell me something, Erin?" he asked. "Because it's driving me crazy, not knowing."

She met his searching gaze. "What?"

"The sex you say you've had, was it with Georg Luksch?"

She wrenched out of his arms. "I never let that horrible man touch me! How could you even ask me that?"

"Don't get pissed off," he soothed. "I wouldn't blame you if you had. Nobody would. A guy who looks like that—"

"Like what?" She lunged for her suitcase, rummaging for some clothes with trembling fingers. "He looked like a gigolo! He didn't interest me in the least!" She found some cotton panties and yanked them on inside out.

"Oh, come on. He looked like a goddamn Calvin Klein ad."

"Not after you were done with him, he didn't!" He winced. "I'm sorry you had to see that. But I'm not sorry I did it."

"Whatever," she snapped. "Think what you want, Connor. I don't care. I was ravished, soiled, dishonored. I did everything there is to do with him. I am absolutely ruined. OK? Now deal with it!"

She wrenched a pair of pants out of her suitcase and sat on the bed to pull them on. Connor yanked them out of her hands, flung them away, and pushed her down onto her back. His hot, half-naked body sprawled heavily over hers. "Bullshit. Look me in the eye, Erin."

She struggled wildly against him. "Get off me!"

"Look me in the eye," he repeated. "That's all I ask."

She glared at him for a moment. "Satisfied?"

He relaxed, and nodded. "Yeah. You never let him touch you."

"Oh yeah? How do you know? Maybe I lied!"

"You can't lie to me," he said calmly. "I can read you."

"Oh! That is so arrogant! You don't know me, Connor!
And you think you can look into my eyes and read my mind?" She swatted at his chest. "I can't even read my own goddamn mind!"

"I do know you," he said stubbornly. "And you never let him touch you."

She turned her face away, her throat quivering. "No," she admitted. "He wasn't my type. And he made me nervous."

He rolled off her and propped his head up on his hand. His other hand splayed possessively over the curve of her hip. "Good," he said.

"I don't see how it changes anything."

"It doesn't," he said. "But it does make me feel better. I had nightmares for months about that bastard touching you."

She sat up, startled. "You did?"

His direct, silent gaze was her answer. His hand stroked, settled into the curve of her waist, pulling her until their bodies touched again.

"So did I," she whispered. "It was bad. For a while."

He pressed tender kisses against her neck and jaw. "We were discussing, what was it? Oh, yeah. Sexual possibilities that don't include intercourse," he mused. "Now there's an interesting topic. I think we should get back to it" He plucked at the elastic of her panties and gave her a wistful look. "I liked it better when you were naked."

"That was before you made me mad," she said.

"I could make you forgive me." He covered her face with soft kisses. "Let's get those panties off you, and I'll show you what I mean."

Cold fear tightened in her belly.
Face the facts, babe. One hurting puppy. Lousy lay
. Bradley's boredom and frustration at how long she took, how difficult she was. She let out a nervous giggle. "Oh, I'd rather concentrate on you first. You're the one who needs to—"

"The rules are real clear," he said. "Ladies first. It's the law."

"But I'm not, ah…" She trailed off, miserable.

He gazed searchingly into her face. "I thought this was what you wanted," he said slowly. "You having second thoughts?"

"Good Lord, no! It's just that I… it's not that simple, to make me have an orgasm. I'm not… very responsive, and I don't want to bore you, and I get so anxious when I'm under pressure, which makes me tense up even more, so I was hoping we could skip that part and try some other things, and that way maybe I'll have a chance to loosen up—"

"Erin. Shhh." He cut off her anxious babbling with a kiss. When he lifted his head, she was dazed and breathless. "No pressure. And I won't get bored. I have a really long attention span. You have no idea."

"But I—"

He covered her mouth with his, and all her doubts and fears melted into a vortex of tender confusion. His lips were velvety, coaxing and insistent. His tongue flicked against hers, and he deepened the kiss, sweet and clinging, like he wanted to draw the soul from her body.

He slid his hand into her panties, his fingertips brushing over her soft thatch of hair. She pressed herself against his hand, and his fingers parted her tenderly.

"Oh, yeah. That's so beautiful," he murmured. "You're already wet and soft. There's nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. You're plenty responsive. Feel this. You're almost there, right now, and all I did was kiss you. I've barely started touching you. You were made for this. You're melting for it, like hot caramel. Feel this, put your hand right here. Feel how this beautiful clit is sticking out, all swollen and tight like it just can't wait for me to suck on it. Feel this?"

He pressed her own fingers against the hot, throbbing glow of pleasure at the top of her cleft while his fingers delved inside her. She hid her face, panting. Her body moved of its own volition. She thrust herself against his hand. Pleasure swelled, unbearably sweet. She trapped his hand between her thighs and pressed her own down on top of it, her muscles clenching and releasing. The feeling grew, cresting.

"Connor. Oh, God. Don't… don't…"

"I won't leave you," he soothed. "I'm right here. Let go."

Something huge was gathering inside her. She panicked, and fought it. "Connor… something strange is happening. I… I'm scared."

"Go with it. It's OK, Erin."

She shook her head. "Please. Stop. I can't. I can't—"

"Go with it." His voice was implacable. He slid his tongue into her mouth, thrust his hand deeper, insisting.

It overtook her. The world dissolved into pulsing black heat.

When she finally opened her eyes, she was surprised to find herself in one piece. Her same old, familiar self.

Connor pulled her face around and smoothed damp hair off her forehead. "Are you all right?" he asked.

She gazed at him, speechless.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

She let her face drop to the side and nuzzled the hand that was stroking her cheek. "What… what was that?" she whispered.

He looked alarmed. "Uh… you came, Erin," he said slowly. "You're not telling me that was your first time?"

Her body still thrummed with residual pleasure. She closed her eyes and pressed her thighs together, savoring it. "Ah, no. I mean, yes. I thought that I had, but I've never felt the whole world go away like that. It scared me so much, I think I fainted. I thought I was dying."

She felt his smile against her neck as he nuzzled her. "The little death. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

The sweet, rippling shivers slowly gave way to a relaxed glow. She wanted to croon and purr, but when she cuddled closer, she felt the unyielding heat of his erection against her belly, and remembered that there was more to this. "Connor? What about you?" she asked.

His eyebrow quirked. "What about me? I'm in heaven." She reached down, and stroked the long, thick bulge in his jeans. He let out a sharp gasp, and placed his hand over hers. "Not yet."

"Not yet?" She was baffled. "Then when?" He hooked his thumbs into the elastic of her panties, tugged them down, and then slid down the bed. He dragged her along with him, until her legs dangled off the foot of the bed in a tangle of bed coverings. "Connor? What are you—"

"One orgasm is good," he said. "Two are better."

She pushed herself up until she was perched on the edge of the bed, legs clamped together in a paroxysm of shyness. He knelt in front of her, a faint smile touching his lips. "Open up for me." He covered her knees with beseeching kisses, his mouth hot and deliciously ticklish. She giggled and pushed his face away. "Please," he pleaded. "Let me in."

His smile and his sweet, silly kisses made her heart go soft. She dashed the tears away with a murmur of embarrassment. It took some concentration, but slowly the muscles in her thighs loosened. He pushed them wide, his face fascinated. He drew his fingertip down the folds of her labia, parting them, and thrust his finger deep inside her.

She gasped, and she was outside herself, observing her own behavior with a cold, horrified eye. Legs spread, completely at his mercy. Crazy and wanton. That shrill, lecturing voice echoed through her mind, reminding her of betrayal, Dad and Novak, Georg and Crystal Mountain, all the reasons why she shouldn't—"Don't," he said.

She met his sharp gaze, startled. "Don't what?"

"Wherever you were going in your head, don't go there. It's a wrong turn."

The sharpness of his perceptions made her feel transparent. "You can't tell me what thoughts to think," she said.

He slid his finger out of her and licked it, sighing with pleasure. "I can try, can't I?" he asked. "Jesus, you're delicious. All I want you to think about is how it feels when I go down on you. That's it, Erin. No other thoughts are invited. This is a private party."

He swayed forward and put his mouth to her before she could think of a reply, and all thoughts fled. All that remained was the liquid, swirling sensations of his lips and his strong, eager tongue, lapping and laving her, flicking expertly across her most sensitive flesh. She gripped damp, silky handfuls of his hair and pushed herself against his mouth. His growl of satisfaction reverberated through her body.

He shoved her down onto her back and folded her legs up high. She writhed, struggling in his strong grip, but she was struggling toward something, not away. He drove her onward, toward a tantalizing promise that blazed on the horizon of her mind like the fiery glow of sunrise.

That huge, inevitable wave of pleasure that had so terrified her before gathered again. This time she didn't resist it. The explosion throbbed through her entire body, an endless eternity of rippling pleasure. It took a long time to float back. "I'm melting," she whispered.

"Yeah. Like homemade vanilla ice cream scooped over hot Dutch apple pie. Yum." His smile was so sweet, it made her heart hurt. "You want some more? I could do that to you all night long. Easily."

She struggled up onto her knees. "It's your turn, Connor," she said shyly. "Do you want me to, um… go down on you?"

He jerked up onto his elbows, opened his mouth to speak, and closed it, looking shy. "Uh… that's one of those do-bears-shit-in-the-woods and is-the-Pope-Catholic type questions, Erin."

"I take it that's a yes," she said primly.

He flopped down onto his back and put his hand over his face. "You don't have to if you're not comfortable with it," he mumbled.

She leaned over him. "Connor? Are you blushing?"

"No," he snapped. "I just turned red because I'm excited. So shoot me. God, this is embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed. I love it. How sweet."

"Sweet," he muttered. "Huh. Great. I'm glad it works for you."

She put her hands on his chest, and petted the flat, silky golden hair. "So tell me what you want me to—"

"No way." He flung his arms wide. "I am at your mercy. Do with me as you will. If you want to go down on me, fine. I'm all for it."

She unbuttoned his jeans. He wore nothing beneath them. His penis sprang out eagerly into her hands. Long and thick, flushed.

"No underwear?" She covered her nervousness with laughter.

"Hate 'em. Never bothered with them when I was a kid. Never got into the habit as an adult, either. They make my dick feel strangled."

His skin was so much softer than she had expected. Living velvet sliding over the thick stalk as she clasped him, squeezed him. The blunt, heart-shaped tip was as large and swollen as a red plum. It wept one gleaming drop of fluid. She touched it with her fingertip, swirling it around his hot, smooth flesh. He cried out, arching off the bed.

She froze, alarmed. "Please tell me if I do anything wrong."

He clutched handfuls of sheet with white-knuckled fists. "Anything, everything, whatever. It's all good. Don't stop."

His low, shaky tone emboldened her, and she dragged his jeans down over his hips. She pulled them off and got her first look at the surgical scars that furrowed his thigh. Long and jagged and puckered.