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So he couldn’t suggest she come to San Francisco to visit her friends Susan and Robert. “I can’t believe I didn’t meet you somewhere in the city during those years,” Luke said.
“I kept a very low profile. First I was studying like a fiend, then I started dissociating myself from Donald and his friends.” She shrugged restlessly. “I should have left him months before I did. But one of my great-aunt’s precepts was to believe the best of everyone until you had evidence to the contrary. I guess I kept looking for the best in Donald. He wasn’t altogether bad—he could be very witty, and not unkind, as long as I didn’t interfere with his plans.”
“Not much of an endorsement,” Luke said dryly. He wanted to ask what sex had been like for her; and found he couldn’t get his tongue around the words. He was jealous, he thought incredulously. Jealous of a dead man.
She said in a low voice, “I finally found out about his ventures on the wrong side of the law, and that was the end of it. I should never have married him! But even now, I hate to think of the way he died. That someone hated him enough to kill him.”
“You’re a good woman, Katrin,” Luke said.
“Not really,” she muttered. “When I came back here, I felt so battered and ashamed. I couldn’t tell people about the trial, I just wanted to put it behind me. So all I said was that I was widowed. Only Anna knows the real truth.” She ducked her head. “I lied, in effect.”
“You looked after yourself,” Luke said strongly. “The trial was no one else’s business.”
“I suppose.” Picking at a loose thread in the sleeve of her sweater, her eyes downcast, Katrin said in a strangled voice, “So now what do we do, Luke?”
The sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. “Have you made love with anyone other than Donald?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been wary of men ever since I left San Francisco. And on Askja, there’s not a whole lot of choice.”
Knowing he was ridiculously pleased by her answer, making no move to touch her, Luke said, “I’ve got a suggestion. Hear me out and think about it before you reply.”
She nodded, looking very wary. Luke said evenly, “Let’s spend the night together. Here. Then in the morning I’ll drive back to the airport and we’ll go our separate ways.”
Her lashes flickered. “And what will that accomplish?”
“There’s something going on between us, we both know that. This way we can have the best of two worlds…find out what it is without any messy complications.”
“Without any emotions, is that what you mean?”
“Without us getting entangled in a relationship neither of us wants!”
“You have it all figured out.”
“You can say no, Katrin,” he said in a hard voice.
She glared at him, tilting her chin. “I’m not going to do that.”
“So is that a resounding yes?”
“You don’t want a resounding anything!”
“At least I’m honest about it.”
“There are times,” Katrin said trenchantly, “when you make me extraordinarily angry.”
“Yes or no,” Luke said.
“Yes,” she blurted.
The bravado died from her face. She looked appalled; she looked as though she might change her mind any moment. Luke pushed back his chair with a jarring scrape of wood on wood. “Don’t look so frightened…it’ll be fine. You’ll see.” He walked around the table, took her cold hands and chafed them within his warmer ones. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Down the hall.”
He pulled her to her feet and led the way, still clasping her by the hand. If ever there was a time for him to keep a lid on his own needs, it was now. No matter that Katrin had said Donald wasn’t unkind; Luke would be willing to swear in any court in the land that her husband had been an inconsiderate and ungenerous lover. After all, he’d seen photos of the man. So it was up to him, Luke, to undo any damage that had been done. He was used to subduing his needs; it wouldn’t be a problem.
The bedroom faced the woods behind the house, and was painted a clear green with white trim; the old-fashioned double bed was also painted white, covered with a woven throw. Luke drew the curtains, left his shoes by the wicker chair and hauled his shirt over his head. Then, casually, he put a couple of foil packets on the side table and turned to face Katrin.
She looked like the china doll on her bookshelves, stiff, immovable and wide-eyed. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and cover her with kisses. Instead Luke rested his hands on her shoulders, kneading them lightly, and let his lips wander from her cheekbones to her mouth. With infinite gentleness he dropped the lightest of kisses along its soft curve. “You taste nice,” he murmured.
“I don’t know what—”
“Hush,” Luke said softly, kissing her again, gossamer kisses that made his blood race in his veins. “Everything’ll be fine…we have the whole night just for ourselves. And all I want to do is give you pleasure.”
“But—”
He closed her mouth with his, stringently reining in his own appetites. This was for Katrin, not for him. With deliberate eroticism he slid his lips down her throat, and felt her shiver in response. Very delicately he traced the arc of her brow and the sweep of bone beneath her eye, letting his fingers slide down her smooth cheek to her lips, so exquisitely warm. With a shock of intimacy he felt the tiny puff of her breathing against his skin; and wondered if he’d be able to maintain his self-control.
Take it slow, Luke. Take it slow.
Suddenly and wholeheartedly, taking him by surprise, Katrin capitulated. With lingering pleasure, she kissed his fingers; then she cupped his face in her hands, kissing him full on the mouth. Like wildfire, the tantalizing pressure of her lips streaked through his body. Her palms moved to his bare chest, stroking it, brushing his nipples, then wrapping themselves around the taut muscles of his shoulders. Her body curved to meet his. And all the while she was nibbling at his lips with a sensual gentleness that set Luke’s heart pounding in his chest. “There’s no rush,” he muttered, and kissed her more deeply, her heated response hardening his groin.
He couldn’t afford to lose his restraint. With all the skill he possessed, Luke set about showing her that he wasn’t Donald Staines. His tongue dancing with hers, he carefully pulled the pins from her hair, so that it slid in a pale cascade down her back. Burying his fingers in its shiny weight, he kissed her throat, the line of her jaw, then her mouth again, plunging to taste its sweetness.
Her hands were probing the hard planes of his back, sliding down his spine; the press of her breasts against his rib cage set his head spinning. He struggled to slow the pace, when every nerve in his body was longing to throw her on the bed, throw himself on top of her, and bury himself within her. Because she was Katrin. Because he wanted her as he’d never wanted a woman before.
Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself sharply. She’s just a woman.
Against his lips, Katrin murmured, “I’ve got too many clothes on.”
It had been part of Luke’s plan to undress her slowly and deliberately, every move part of his seduction. But he could feel her tugging impatiently at her sweater; when he reached for the hem, his fingers met the warm, silky skin above the waistband of her jeans, and he forgot his plan in the fierce need to see her naked. He pulled the sweater over her head, tossing it on the chair. Her bra was white lace, cupping the sweet curves of her breasts, her skin like cream in the soft light from the hallway.
He almost lost it. He said hoarsely, “You’re so beautiful, you take my breath away.”
She gave a sudden laugh of delight. “I do?”
He drew her hips to his. “Indisputable evidence,” he said; and watched her lips curve in a smile in which shyness and pride were irresistibly mixed.
She was showing her feelings, he realized; and knew he wasn’t going to do the same. He didn’t operate that way. He kissed her again, determined to control the moves. To control himself as he always did.
She was fumbling with his belt. “Take me to bed, Luke,” she said impetuously. “I’m not nervous anymore, can’t you tell?”
Her eyes were a brilliant, depthless blue; her hips were swivelling suggestively against his body, in a way that made a mockery of technique and restraint. Luke reached for the metal button on her jeans, and drew the zipper down. Insensibly her eyes darkened. The pulse at her throat was throbbing against her skin. As he pushed the denim fabric down her hips, she helped him, laughing softly as it caught in her delicate lacy underwear.
He loved her laughter.
Loved it? thought Luke. What the hell kind of statement was that? He didn’t know the meaning of the word love, and had no intentions of investigating it. So Katrin had a pretty laugh. So what?
“Luke?” she whispered.
Inwardly cursing himself for losing his focus, Luke eased the denim down her thighs, his fingers pausing to stroke their slender length. Awkwardly she stepped out of her jeans. “Your turn,” she said breathlessly.
Standing very still, Luke watched as she fumbled with his zipper, her head bent; the light shone in her hair. Of its own accord, his hand caressed its silken sheen. Like moonlight on water, he thought; and stopped himself from saying the words out loud. He’d never thought of himself as being at all poetic. What was happening to him? Then his trousers dropped to the floor. For a moment outside of control, Luke pulled Katrin against the length of his body, feeling the warm swell of her hips, the concavity of her spine, the push of her breasts to his torso as though he’d never been with a woman before. As though words like hunger and need were newly coined for this woman and this coupling.
Stow it, he thought dimly, and kissed her again. Then he reached around to undo the clasp of her bra; it joined his trousers on the floor. Like a man in a dream, he cupped her breasts in his palms, their soft weight arousing in him a possessiveness he could no more have stifled than he could have walked out of Katrin’s bedroom. He bent his head, his mouth exploring her breasts’ firm slopes, then the tautness of their rose-pink tips.
She was trembling very lightly. He said urgently, “Are you all right?”
Her laugh was shaky. “Oh Luke,” she said artlessly, “I’ve never in my life felt so—so shameless.”
Her words went straight through his defenses. She was saying she trusted him, he thought blankly. Trusted him enough to free her sexuality.
He mustn’t misuse that trust. But equally he mustn’t allow it to develop into anything else. With sudden impatience he stripped off his shorts, saying huskily, “Let’s go to bed, Katrin.”
Her movements imbued with a seductive grace, she pulled off the last of her garments, and again he was aware of the shyness lurking very close to her outer poise. He lifted her and laid her on the bed, her hair fanned on the pillows like a sweep of pale satin. For a moment he hovered over her, resting on his elbows, drinking in her beauty. Her courage, he thought. Her utter vulnerability. And with a clench at his heart knew he mustn’t misuse these in any way, either.
He kissed her again, slowly lowering his body to hers, rubbing the roughness of his body hair to her sweet curves, always careful to keep his weight from crushing her. Before he was ready, she pulled him down hard on top of her, wrapping her thighs around his, murmuring his name in between fierce little kisses.
Cool it, Luke, cool it. Where’s your famous technique?
Stroking her breasts, he lowered his head to lave her nipples with his tongue, hearing her moan with pleasure. Gradually he moved lower down her body, exploring with his hands and his mouth, discovering all her sensitivities. As he cupped the warm mound between her thighs, caressing the petals of her flesh with exquisite control, she cried out, begging him for more.
Only then did Luke take the little foil packet, deal with its contents, and slide into her. Her slick heat enveloped him; they fit as though they were made for each other. Now, he thought. Now. And knew as he watched the storm gather in her face that his timing was perfect. Her inner throbbing caught and magnified his own; he felt himself falling deeper and deeper into the cataclysm, joining her there.
But even then, Luke stifled the raw cry that was crowding his throat.
Resting some of his weight on his elbows, he dropped his head to her shoulder. His heartbeat eventually slowed, his breathing returning to normal. Gently he eased her onto her side and laid down facing her. She was lying still, her eyes closed. “Katrin?” he whispered. “Are you okay?”
She burrowed her face into his chest, as though not yet ready to look at him. “I’m fine,” she mumbled, her breath warm on his chest. “What about you?”
“Great,” he said.
She suddenly reared her head. “Really? Because you were holding back the whole time. You never really let go, even at the end.”
He should have remembered how acute she was. “I wanted to make sure you were all right,” he said; and knew it for only a partial reply.
“You didn’t want to lose control.”
“I hate postmortems,” he said curtly.
“You hate it when I get too close to the truth. Too close to you.”
For a man who only minutes ago had been convulsed by sexual passion, Luke felt extraordinarily angry. “So who did you prefer, Katrin? Me or Donald?”
“You. Of course. Donald was as self-centered in bed as out.”
“I rest my case—I was trying to look after you, and I obviously succeeded.”
“Why do I think I’ve been very cleverly sidetracked—and by a real pro?”
“You’re putting the worst possible interpretation on everything I say and do!”
She pushed herself up on one arm. “So tell me about your parents, Luke. Your brothers and sisters and relatives. Where you grew up. Why you react so strongly to the mere mention of anything like a relationship.”
“We made a deal. And that kind of talk’s not in it.”
“So we did,” Katrin said. “In fact, I instigated it…silly me.” With a brilliant smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, she added, “Since we’ve only got one night, we shouldn’t waste any time…talk’s certainly not getting us anywhere.”
He was still angry. “For obvious reasons, I have to go to the bathroom.”
“I hope you brought enough protection for the whole night,” she said provocatively.
Luke stalked out of the room. But before he left the bathroom, he gazed at himself in the mirror. She hadn’t liked him holding back; that was obvious. She saw it as a challenge. Well, she was out of luck. If she didn’t like him as he was, too bad.
When he walked back in the room, she was lying just as he’d left her. He climbed into bed and lay down beside her. Her cheekbones were shadowed, as shadowed as her collarbone; darkness lay between her breasts. The dip of her waist, the rise of her hip, the smooth length of her thighs: all known to him now. And still desired, he realized with an unnerving jolt. Desired more strongly than before; the past three-quarters of an hour might never have happened.
She wasn’t out of his system.
She’d become part of him instead. Invaded him in a way a woman never had before. Wouldn’t that be closer to the truth?
The laugh was on him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AS LUKE lay there, his mind racing, Katrin reached up, took his face between her palms and began kissing him with a slow sensuality that made his pulses quicken. Her fingertips light as feathers, she brushed his cheekbones, his deep-set eyes and the dark lines of his brows; as though she were blind and seeking an image of him in her mind. Then her lips wandered down the taut cords of his throat. And all the while, her body was pressed to his, moving against him with leisurely seductiveness.
He tried to hold back. Tried to take control. But as she teased his chest hair with one hand, her other hand slid lower. He was more than ready for her; and felt her touch surge through his body, flooding him with a primitive and all-consuming hunger. Her hair slipping like water over his ribs and navel, she moved lower, finding the jut of his hipbones, his navel, the arrow of hair that led her mouth to the hardness that was need and the ache for consummation.
Luke shuddered with pleasure. She said softly, “You’re so silky, so warm,” her tongue laving where her fingers had moved. He moaned deep in his throat, trapped by sensation. With the inexorability of fire, pleasure and hunger mounted, feeding on each other, hotter and hotter.
Just when he was sure he couldn’t bear it any longer, Katrin slid away from him. She rolled on her back, thighs shamelessly spread, and took his hands in hers. “Make love to me, Luke. As if this were the very first time for both of us…I want to know everything you can teach me.”
His heart pounding like a mallet in his chest, Luke said with an honesty as naked as his body, “I’ve never wanted a woman as I want you.”
She brought his hands to her breasts. “Touch me here…and here.”
He plummeted to find her mouth, kissing her with an imperative hunger; then he licked the rise of her breasts, the hardness of her nipples, the long arc of each collarbone. Her hands were roaming his body, loosing in him waves of eroticism that he couldn’t suppress and was helpless to resist.
As though the tides had engulfed him, Luke abandoned technique and control and restraint. Instead his own body and Katrin’s ardent responses became his only guides in a territory new to him, that he’d never entered before. In a tumult of longing he caught her in his arms, kissing her, his fingers buried in her hair. She met him more than halfway, her generosity inflaming all his senses. Her taste, the delicate scent of her skin, the silken ripples of her hair, how would he ever get enough of them?
Drowning in passion, Luke sought to imprint himself on every inch of her body. Making it his; because she belonged to him. Impetuously he lifted her to straddle him, watching all the changing expressions on her face, so open and unguarded. So alive. So utterly beautiful.
With a seductiveness that nearly drove him out of his mind, Katrin rode him slowly, her knees clasping his hips. When he touched her gently between her thighs, finding that place where she was most sensitive, she threw her head back, her breasts lifted, crying out his name over and over again. He could feel her inner pulsing as though it were his own, a release that triggered his. He rose to meet her, their gazes locked in an intimacy beyond anything he’d ever known. With a deep cry of satiation, he met her climax, and heard that cry echo in his ears.
With a long moan Katrin collapsed on top of him, her hair falling over his face like a shield that would shelter him from the world of normality. Her heart was racing against his chest; she felt boneless, so close to him that Luke wasn’t sure where he ended and she began. He wound his arms around her and held on as though all his boundaries had dissolved. As though his very life depended on her.
He said nothing. There was nothing to say.
She slipped her knees farther down the bed, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Her arms were loosely curved to fit his body, her thighs enclosing his. Gradually he became aware that her breathing had slowed and deepened into sleep.
