Christmas Present Part 7

Her scepticism must have shown, because Kells suddenly cursed and pushed his coffee cup away. "Idon't believe you for a minute," he said vehemently. "What's wrong?" "You, dammit. You're all wrong for me." She sighed. She was beginning to feel as if the two of them were in a cage, created by the other, and neither could break free. They kept circling the same subjects over and over. "So you've said. But what's the problem? You told me you're not here to seduce Burke Delaney's daughter, and you haven't. I don't see anything for you to be upset about."

"I do," he said quietly. "Because I'm very much afraid that Burke Delaney's daughter has seduced me."

She looked up in surprise. "I haven't done a thing."

"No, you haven't. Nothing other than respond in my arms like you were made of fire."

"I couldn't help it," she whispered.

"Exactly." He leaned forward in his chair. "Do you have any idea what I feel like when I taste your nipples in my mouth? It drives me wild. It makes my brain close down. And your b.r.e.a.s.t.s, they feel so d.a.m.ned good, I've reached the point where I can't stand the thought of anything or anyone else touching them. You have a bra on, don't you? I wish you'd left it off."

The color washed from her face, then flared back with increased intensity. "Stop it! I can't take any more of this."

"Neither can I, Bria. Don't you understand? That's the whole point."

A cry rose in her throat. "What do you want from me?"

"I'm almost afraid to start exploring the possibilities."

She leapt to her feet. "And I don't think you should. What's more, you need to go now. Let yourself out."

Bria hurried through her bedroom to her bathroom. There, in the coolness of the blue marble room, she splashed water on the blazing skin of her face and neck, but it did no good. She felt as though a mist of heat had closed around her.

She reached for a hand towel and held it to her face. But the soft velour offered no comfort. Every nerve in her body tingled painfully.

Slowly she straightened and looked into the mirror. Kells was behind her. His eyes were a dark midnight blue, his stance aggressive and vibrating with tension.

"I can't leave," he said in a rough whisper.

Unable to move, to even turn around, she watched his mouth in the mirror as it formed the words. His lips were sensual and beautifully shaped, she thought yet again. And they could make her feel things she had never felt before.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I just can't leave."

Desperately needing support, she gripped the edge of the marble counter. "You don't want this, Kells.

You told me so."

"I know."

He sounded calmly resigned but very determined.

"This is madness," she said.

"Yes."

She should do something, she thought hazily. Leave. Or at the very least try to talk him out of what was about to happen. But her feet were rooted to the spot, and the ability to reason seemed to have deserted her. She could only watch him in the mirror. Watch, wait, and tremble with antic.i.p.ation.

Holding her eyes with his, he unb.u.t.toned his s.h.i.+rt, baring his broad chest and the dark hair that softly curled there. Then he skimmed his hand along her waist and pulled her back against him until her body was locked to his. The other hand slipped inside the top of her dress and beneath her bra. Reaction swelled and surged through her.

"Tell me you don't want me to go. Tell me."

"I don't." Two words. It was all she could manage to speak, but it was enough.

He swept the long length of her hair to one side and placed kisses, one after the other, down the side of her neck until his mouth came to rest on the wildly beating pulse at the base of her throat. "I want you so much," he muttered thickly. "I need you."

An empty ache began in her belly; a fire ignited between her thighs. He nipped the tender flesh of her shoulder with his strong white teeth and left a line of tingling points behind.

Something rent asunder inside her: Her resistance, her pride-until nothing remained but the need to have him make love to her. Hungrily she reached behind her for him, but at that moment he took a step away from her. In a quick, sure motion, he slid the off-the-shoulder dress downward until her arms were free and cashmere folds encircled her waist. Pressing featherlike kisses down her spine, he seared a trail to the edge of her bra. Each touch of his mouth burned, and she wasn't certain how much longer she could remain upright. He unclasped her bra and tossed it aside. Then he pulled her back against him and took a breast into his hand.

She gasped. The mirror. Lord help her, this was the exact scene she had seen in the mirror at Killara.

She slumped back against him and stared into the big, wide bathroom mirror, transfixed by the view of his long, lean fingers kneading her breast, molding the soft mound until her nipples tightened into taut, aching points. Her breathing became erratic; her trembling increased.

The sight of him caressing her, added to the sight of her physical response, was unbearably erotic. Fire drove straight to her brain as she viewed the musculature of his arm holding her tightly to him, the strong elegance of his hands and fingers as they stroked and shaped her, the darker beige of his skin against her lighter golden-toned skin. She was captivated. The edges of the mirror binned until she could see only the two of them in its center.

His actions became even slower. He wanted her with a fierceness that was frightening to him, but he couldn't make himself hasten. She raised emotions in him that demanded care and thoroughness. And so he took his time, touching and fondling her, reveling in the satin feel of her skin, the fullness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the hard nubs of her nipples. She was unlike any woman he had ever known. She made him want more, to know an ultimate satisfaction, a supreme fulfillment, things he sensed only she could give him.

His mouth once more went to her neck and the pulse point. He counted the beats of her heart against his lips, then softly bit. She moaned and moved her hips against his pelvis, wrenching a groan from deep in his chest.

He wanted to learn more of her, and where she was concerned his curiosity and need were apparently insatiable. But the pain of wanting was becoming unbearable.

His hand stroked downward and disappeared inside her dress at the waist, into her panties. She inhaled sharply, no longer able to see his hand, but, heaven help her, she could feel it.

The feelings. Like liquid ecstasy. Like distilled rapture.

His fingers delved into the soft folds of her s.e.x with a sure gentleness and knowledge that had an out-of-control firestorm of pleasure twisting through her. A cry strangled in her throat and turned to a moan. She gave herself up to the feelings, closing her eyes and undulating against his fingers. With each movement backward, his hot hardness pushed against her soft, increasingly sensitized bottom. With each thrust forward, his fingers nibbed and manipulated. The combined pressures were indescribable. She felt caught in an erotic vise. Everything she was feeling was multiplied by two. Inside her, a burning urgency swelled and inexorably expanded. Her breathing quickened, then suddenly a powerful, unbelievable pleasure shook her from head to toe.

Slowly she opened her eyes and wordlessly stared at him in the mirror. What was he doing to her? He had taken control of her mind and body. She had never felt more vulnerable in her life-nor more alive.

She turned to him. He s.h.i.+fted his stance, lifted her into his arms, and carried her into the darkened bedroom. There he lay her against a mound of pillows. Though she had had s.e.x before, she couldn't imagine what was left to happen between them. It was as if he had taken full and complete possession of her and there was no need for anything more. Except-she still wanted, hungered, longed for him. It was like a compulsion.

He leaned over her and pulled the cashmere dress and silk panties from her. And then she was naked, and soon after so was he.

He lay down beside her. Slowly he laved her breast with his tongue, scorching a path of concentric circles that drew ever closer to her nipple. Then he pulled the pulsating bud into his mouth and sucked and nibbled.

She hadn't thought any new feelings possible. She was sure she had experienced them all. But with his tongue and his hands he turned her into a wild thing. Her body writhed, feverish with need for him. She pulled and tugged at his sweat-slicked shoulders with a desperation that was unfamiliar to her. "I want you inside me. Now."

"Not yet." His pain was intense, but so was his need to prolong the sweet agony. It was as if he were in both heaven and h.e.l.l at the same time. Fire threatened to consume him, but the ecstasy of learning her beckoned him into the flames.

He moved his mouth downward, across the flatness of her stomach, through the soft thatch of red curly hair between her legs. And his mouth took up where his fingers had left off.

His kiss devoured her, sweeping her up into the deep, dark velvet center of a full-fledged, raging, frenzied pa.s.sion. She was in a world where she had never been before, a world she had never even imagined might exist. She wanted to explore him, do all the things to him that he was doing to her. But she wanted something else. Release. And she was convinced she would die if it didn't come soon.

She clawed at his back and cried out her need, using words she couldn't hear, words he couldn't ignore. Suddenly he was inside her, and it was as if they had been born already linked together. She arched her hips high to meet him, inviting him deeper, and he complied, driving into her with a power that was ferocious. He wanted her to be his. He wanted to take her, heart, mind, and soul.

He felt her reach her peak almost immediately, but he wasn't through with her. He had no idea from where he was drawing his superhuman endurance, except that it was all tied up with her. What he was doing to her went beyond sating a s.e.xual appet.i.te. And he didn't want it to stop.

She was everything lie had known she would be, untamed, wild, scratching, and fighting for more. He loved the feel of her hands as they clutched frantically at his b.u.t.tocks; he loved the way her nails scored his back; he loved the cries she made that told him how much she wanted him.

And, Lord help him, he loved her.

Her body shuddered as she reached yet another climax. He felt her contract around him, ma.s.saging and squeezing him until something inside him snapped. Violent convulsions took control of his body. He pumped into her, his lungs almost bursting with the effort, and didn't stop until he had emptied himself into her.

Bria rolled over and clicked on the bedside lamp.

Kells threw a forearm across his eyes to s.h.i.+eld them from the sudden glare. But whether the room was light or dark, the reality wasn't changed. He was in love with Bria Delaney.

He wanted to curse and shake his fists at the G.o.ds. He wanted to scream at himself for allowing himself to fall so hard and so completely. But most of all he wanted to take her back into his arms and make love to her again and then again.

"What just happened?" she asked quietly.

Slowly he lowered his arm and gazed at her from beneath half-opened lids. One arm propped up her head so that she was looking down at him. The lamp backlit her, making her skin and hair appear luminous. Her body had a well-loved glow about it, as well it should. He didn't think there was a place on her he hadn't sought out and given attention to. But if there was, he would soon rectify his omission.

And he knew exactly what she was asking. What had just occurred between them had been beyond extraordinary. He had never had a lovemaking experience remotely like it, and from her question and the softly bewildered expression in her eyes, he guessed she hadn't either.

The answer was simple: The love he felt for her was what had happened.

That love had made him fanatical about holding himself back, putting her pleasure before his, and had ensured a depth of emotion that had lifted them both to an elevated plane of glory.

But for many reasons he didn't feel he could tell her of his love at the present time. The discovery was an astounding revelation to him that had shaken him deeply. He needed to think and a.s.sess and get his feet back under him; he needed to make sure he had dealt with the past once and for all. There was only one thing he didn't have to think about: He was going to try very hard to make sure that she didn't get away from him.

"Kells? What happened?"

"Fireworks." With a gentle smile he reached toward her and entangled his fingers in her hair. "Fireworks happened. I know you felt them. I also know you weren't afraid of them."

"No. But-"

"What's bothering you, Bria? The fact that you enjoyed it?"

"No." She had loved every minute of the experience. But something was definitely bothering her, and she would feel a lot easier if she knew what it was.

"Some people are just combustible together. You and I, Bria, went up in flames."

That they had, she thought, staring into his eyes. But did he really believe it was so simple? Could she?

She didn't have a lot of experience, but she did know that the intensity with which they had come together was very rare. Had what just happened been the result of days of pent-up emotions? Now that those emotions were spent, would the fire die down? Or had it been a chemical process that had to do with their makeup, separately and together, and that would happen again?

"It'll happen again;' he said softly, as if he'd read her mind. "It will, at least, if I have anything to say about it."

Color tinged her cheeks. "I didn't ask."

"No, but the thought was in your head. I know the thought was in your head because it was and is very much in mine."

She caught her bottom lip with her teeth. "But why did it happen? I can't deny anything you're saying, and I'm certainly not complaining, but-"

He released her hair and freed her bottom lip with gentle pressure from his finger. "But?"

"You're the one who told me you didn't want things to go any further between us. What changed?"

His hand chopped back to his chest, but his gaze stayed on her. "You happened. You're a walking temptation-and you managed somehow to trample over every objection and protest I could muster."

"I can't recall us ever arguing about it."

His lips twitched. "Not aloud, at any rate. No, you wore me down just by being. I lost the argument with myself, Bria."

"Are you sorry?"

He laughed. "No way. I'm not crazy." The expression of amus.e.m.e.nt slowly faded from his face. He slid his hand around her neck and pulled her to him until she half lay over him and her mouth was mere inches from his. He could feel the softness of her breast pressing into his side, smell the sweetness of her skin. "No, Bria, I'm not crazy. I've never been less sorry in my life." He paused and his voice turned husky. "Did you really think I would be?"

"I wasn't sure." With Kells there was nothing she was sure of. She drew away from him and lay down again.

He rolled over and into her and immediately felt satisfaction in every cell of his body as he was sheathed by her warmth. "Be very certain," he whispered. "Let me show you how much I don't regret our lovemaking." Then he proceeded to lose himself once more in her.

When Bria awoke, she was alone in the bed. But the tantalizing breakfast smells that were wafting from the kitchen told her that Kells hadn't left. She was pleased... and she was troubled.

It was morning; outside, the sun was s.h.i.+ning. But in the night she and Kells had done shatteringly intimate things to each other.

She didn't know how to face him. Or herself.

She hadn't recognized the wanton creature she had become beneath the ministration of his hands and mouth. She had utterly given herself up to him. He had said they were combustible together, and she certainly agreed. Yet though he had been an incredibly sensuous, inventive, and demanding lover, giving everything his body was capable of, Kells ultimately remained a mystery to her. She felt she should be on guard with him, censor what she said and did, s.h.i.+eld herself from a yet-to-be-defined hurt. The problem was, she didn't want to supervise her every action or word. There was a happiness in her, bubbling and brewing, refusing to be contained. She wanted to feel free to kiss him if she got the urge, or to run her hands over his strongly muscled body.

Heaven help her, he moved her in so many ways. Yet, unfortunately, he also confused her.

She hated to be confused. She also hated to lie in bed on a perfectly beautiful day.

"I'm not solving anything by lying here," she muttered, getting out of bed.

She took a hot shower and dressed in a lightweight wool kelly green skirt and a matching silk blouse. After weaving her hair into a single thick braid that hung halfway down her back, she added a long green cashmere cardigan and brown boots to her outfit, then went to find Kells.

Sometime between the shower and the brown boots she had made a decision. The way he behaved would govern how she behaved.

"Good morning," she said as soon as she saw him He was standing by the stove, staring broodingly down at a pan of sizzling bacon, looking dynamic and very s.e.xy. He turned and watched her as she walked to him. "Good morning. Green is a wonderful color on you." "Thank you." She searched his face for some sign of what he was feeling-unsuccessfully. Those eyes that were so direct, paradoxically, could also hide more than they revealed. "But I like you better with nothing at all on." In a sudden move that took her completely by surprise, he closed his hands around her b.u.t.tocks and lifted her up and against him. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck.

Then he turned and pressed her back against the large refrigerator and kissed her. Immediately her senses awakened, her heart pounded, her blood sang through her veins. With utter abandon she tightened her legs around his waist and delved her tongue into his mouth, thrilling at the raspy feel of his tongue. This was the way she wanted it to be between them, she thought-free, spontaneous, wild.

Parts of him might remain an enigma to her, but at least they could communicate on a physical level. For now she would accept the combustion and wait and see what happened next.

"I like the way you say good morning," she said softly after the kiss ended.

He threw back his head and laughed. "Did I say good morning? I don't remember."