Authors: Sherryl Woods
Penny seemed to have lost the ability to speak. How had she missed the fact that he was far enough along in his recovery to start thinking about seduction? The man still had a bandage from his collarbone to his belly. Maybe most of his wounds were superficial, but even they weren't fully healed.
His lips curved slightly. "And maybe a little innate coordination, right?"
She swallowed hard. "Right."
"Is there anything I'm missing?"
She shook her head. His gaze softened as his hand curved around the back of her neck.
"This is a really bad idea," he murmured.
Or was that her own conscience screaming? At any rate, it didn't stop the kiss. Nothing short of an air raid siren going off in the next room could have stopped that kiss. It was as inevitable as sunrise.
And, she thought when he left her sitting alone and dazed in front of the computer, it was one damned fine kiss, the kind that could make a less wise woman forget that the man delivering it was flat-out determined to avoid making a commitment.
F
ive days of proximity. Five days of Penny's shy, gentle touches and those occasional, dizzying, stolen kisses. Five days of a yearning so powerful that his body felt as if it might ache forever. Sam knew he had misjudged her passion, just as he'd misjudged so much else about her...and about himself.
Determined not to let these discoveries affect him, he actually tried to tell himself that his desire was purely physical, the result of remaining celibate too damn long. He hadn't looked at another woman since Penny had arrived on the scene in Boston. He tried to tell himself that that was sheer coincidence. He tried to tell himself that under those circumstances any woman would have aroused the same desperate hunger.
He wondered when he'd turned into such a liar.
It was Penny who exasperated and enchanted him. It was Penny who filled his dreams. It was Penny whose most casual caress made his pulse race. It was Penny who was going to drive him out of his head with longing if he didn't do something about it.
The quickest, surest way to solve the immediate problem would be to get her into his bed. Given the fact that she was still worriedly hovering over it half a dozen times a day, even though the doctor had said he was virtually back to normal, it shouldn't be that difficult to tumble her into it.
Sam considered the matter with detached, calculating, masculine logic. One quick roll in the hay and he'd be over her. The intrigue would be over. That was the way it usually worked for him. There was no connection whatsoever between his brain and his libido.
As for a heart, everyone knew he didn't have one. He saw no reason for this time to be any different. It was just the noble, hands-off policy he'd adopted that was making her so blasted tempting. A person always wanted most what he couldn't have, what he wouldn't allow himself to have.
He tried to convince himself that seducing her wouldn't be such a lousy thing to do. After all, this hunger wasn't entirely one-sided. There was an undeniable mutual attraction between them. There had been from the start.
Sam had seen the flare of unmistakable excitement in Penny's eyes each time they'd kissed. He'd felt the way she responded in his arms. More important, they were both smart enough to recognize that they were too different to ever have a lasting relationship. They'd both be better off if they just had sex and got it over with.
Sam was still in the midst of the greatest internal moral debate of his entire life, when Penny sashayed into his bedroom looking like a ray of sunshine and humming some cheerful little tune. She was wildly off-key and clearly couldn't have cared less.
She wore seductive white shorts and a clingy, yellow T-shirt. She'd scooped her hair into a ponytail with some sort of bright yellow scarf thing. He gazed down and saw that she was barefoot and sometime since he'd last seen her she had painted her toenails an enticing, feminine shade of pink. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to kiss each and every one of them. Dear heaven, he was losing his mind, he thought with dismay.
Hands on hips, she stood over him. "Are you okay?" she inquired worriedly. "You look funny."
He shifted in the bed, turning onto his side. "Funny how?" he asked cautiously, hoping she hadn't seen the erection that she'd aroused just by walking into the room.
"All flushed and feverish. I'd better take your temperature."
She whipped a thermometer out of her pocket and removed the cap. He shoved it away. He was overheated, all right, but he doubted it would register on the instrument. "Forget it. I'm fine."
"But you could have an infection. I'll call the doctor to stop by and check your bandages."
"Take it from me, sweetheart. It's not an infection."
Something in his tone must have alerted her. She might not be an experienced lover, but she'd certainly taken enough science courses to understand basic anatomy and human chemistry. Her gaze shot to the telltale bulge beneath the sheet. The expression of fascination on her face, combined with the flood of color into her cheeks, was almost his undoing. His entire body throbbed with sexual awareness.
Eventually her gaze returned to meet his. To his amazement and vague alarm, he detected a faint hint of amusement. It was the last reaction he'd anticipated.
"Are you absolutely sure there is nothing I can help you with?" she inquired in a voice that had suddenly dropped to a sultry, sensual purr.
"Penny," he warned, guessing that his plan was about to go dangerously astray.
"Yes, Sam," she replied, her blue eyes wide with feigned innocence.
"Don't pull that act with me. You have picked a very bad time to turn into a flirt."
"Oh, really? I thought my timing was downright excellent." She glanced back at the evidence to prove it. Sam groaned and waged one last battle with himself. He lost.
He reached out and snagged her hand. "Closer," he urged.
"You sound like the big, bad wolf talking to Little Red Riding Hood."
"There are certain similarities in our situations," he agreed. His hand tightened around hers. "Games are over, Penny. Now's the time to back out if you don't want to play."
Her lower lip trembled slightly, but her chin jutted up and she shook her head. Sam looked into her eyes and thought he saw a longing there that reflected his own. Maybe it was only his own wishful thinking, the justification he needed for going on with his plan. He didn't waste time trying to analyze it.
"Jeez," he muttered. "When you look at me like that, I don't think I could send you away if our lives depended on it."
"Then don't," she said, her gaze never wavering.
"Where's Mrs. Farnsworth?"
"I sent her off on a list of errands that ought to keep her occupied past nightfall."
"Good," he said softly.
Her foresight told him she'd been anticipating something like this. Knowing that, the last of his already tattered willpower melted. With one tug, he pulled her onto the bed beside him. She sat there, stiff and still, waiting, expectant. He lifted his hand and removed the band holding her hair. When it tumbled loose, he ran his fingers through it. It felt like silk, just as he'd anticipated.
"I knew it," he murmured, filled with the same awe he'd experienced the first time Brandon Halloran had taken him on a tour of Halloran Industries' finest fabrics.
A smile flitted across her lips. "Knew what?"
"How your hair would feel. I remember when I first touched strands of silk at Halloran Industries. I couldn't believe that anything could be that fine, that delicate. It felt just like this."
His old fascination with textures, a fascination instilled by Brandon's love of quality materials, came over him. He caressed her cheek. "And your skin, it's like the finest satin, but warmer."
He trailed a caress along her neck, lingering where he felt the rapid flutter of her pulse. "Scared?" he asked quietly. He didn't see any signs of it, but he needed to ask.
She shook her head in a denial that wasn't quite matched by the racing of her heartbeat.
"Of you? Never," she swore anyway.
"Maybe you should be. I love 'em and leave 'em," he warned matter-of-factly. "Everybody knows that. Nobody expects anything more."
She flinched slightly at that, but he could detect the instant when her resolve returned. "I'm living very much in the present. Whatever the future holds, I'll deal with it."
At that precise moment, listening to her brave declaration, feeling her skin heat beneath his touch, Sam thought he could very well fall in love with her...if he was the kind of man who believed in love. As it was, though, he knew for a fact that there was no such thing as some romantic destiny.
Penny watched the carefully banked emotion in Sam's eyes and knew that he was fighting feeling anything more than his sexual attraction for her. The struggle gave her hope.
The man actually thought this seduction had been his idea. In reality, she'd done everything short of leaving a stack of
Playboy
s beside his bed to stir him up. She might be new to the game, she might not understand all the rules, but Sam had a very transparent face. She knew exactly when she was getting to him and each time she did, she contrived to do more of the same. Little had been left to chance, from the outfit she'd chosen this morning to the dismissal of the housekeeper for the day. She'd known his recovery was almost complete for days now. Both of them had been drawing out this torment of living under the same roof.
What she was doing was not without risk. He could make love to her, decide that it satisfied what had been no more than a momentary whim and never see her again. Or it could wake him up to the fact that they were meant to be together, that what they felt was deep and true and lasting.
She wished to heaven she had more experience in making sex absolutely unforgettable. As it was, she had a rudimentary understanding of the basics and no practical experience whatsoever beyond a few steamy kisses and an occasional groping touch that had done nothing to inflame her. She knew things with Sam were going to be different for her because his most innocent touch set her afire. But would they be different enough for a man who used and discarded women like tissues and actually prided himself on that fact?
Right now his hand had strayed to her breast, where the most astonishing sensations were ricocheting from there to her toes and back again. "Sam?"
His gaze was pinned on hers. "Yes, sweetheart?"
"Isn't it possible that I have on too many clothes?"
He grinned at her. "That depends on how fast you intend to move things along."
"I think I might be in a hurry."
"Then by all means take off anything you like."
Thrilled by the flare of excitement that shone in his eyes, she lifted her T-shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor. But when she reached for the clasp of her bra, he nudged her hands aside.
"Allow me."
The brush of his fingertips along her bare midriff was an exquisite form of torture. When his hands settled on her back, he was close enough that she could feel the whisper of his breath across her cheek. It seemed to her that he lingered over the task far longer than it required, turning it into a sweet torment.
As soon as he'd unhooked the bra, he looped his hands beneath it, brought it off her shoulders and allowed it to fall away, exposing her breasts. First his thumb, then his mouth traced the outline where the lacy material had been. Penny's pulse scrambled at the touch of his tongue against her nipple. She was sure that that intimate contact alone was going to send her spinning off into an aching ecstasy.
But it was just the beginning. Despite her frantic desire for urgency, Penny watched his face to make sure none of this was too taxing. He seemed so...intent. He took his own sweet time with every touch. It seemed as if he'd made the sensitizing of her breasts his single most important task of the day. With slow deliberation, he tasted and savored and teased until Penny was ready to scream with need. All the time he watched her face, his own expression was a blend of fascination and satisfaction that filled her with feminine pride.
"You're something else," he whispered, his voice husky and dark as midnight.
Penny felt as if he'd given her the moon. Now, though, she had this consuming need to claim the stars, as well. "I want you," she told him. "Please, Sam."
He stripped away her shorts and panties far more efficiently than he had her bra. When she was completely bare, though, he resumed the slow, tortuous process of making her tremble with desire. His hands molded, caressed and teased, dipping into her moist warmth with an intense probing that had her hips lifting off the bed to meet each intimate touch.
She hadn't expected the spiraling tension, the vague but constant striving toward some elusive goal. Each touch was an experience like nothing she'd ever felt before. And each one made her crave more. There was no time to savor the joy of each new sensation. Always there was the unconscious struggle to reach the challenging peak that promised to be more spectacular than fireworks and roller-coaster rides all blended into one incredible moment.
"Sam?" It came out as a soft plea.
"I know, sweetheart. You're ready, aren't you?"
"I think I've been waiting for this all my life," she murmured solemnly.
He braced himself above her then and she could feel the tip of his manhood as he slowly began to ease inside. Again his gaze was locked with hers, his face a study in concentration.
"You okay?" he asked.
She offered him a tremulous smile. "Never better. But if you don't get on with this, I think I may fly apart."
A grin tugged at his lips. "We can't have that happening, can we? At least not without me along for the ride."
His next thrust was fast and hard. Penny felt the momentary resistance, the quick, burning pain, and then...the most awesome sense of completion she had ever felt in her life. A magical union that was meant to be. Tentatively she lifted her hips and began a rhythm as old as time.
"You're remarkable," Sam whispered.
Those two words filled her heart just as he had filled her body. She stroked his shoulders, hesitating when her fingers met the bandages on his chest. Struck anew by worry, she looked into his eyes.
"I'm fine," he reassured. "More than fine."
To prove it, he increased the rhythm to a pace just shy of unbearable. That nagging tension spiralled tighter and tighter, before finally ripping free in a glorious burst of excitement.
When the release of her first climax spread over Penny in wave after wave of thrilling sensation, she thought she knew without a doubt the timeless meaning of love. Two people, joined as one--heart, body and soul. Not even Sam, stubborn, tender, arrogant Sam, could walk away from something this powerful.
He'd ruined everything, Sam decided later that night as he paced his room. Penny was back in her own room. Mrs. Farnsworth had returned to her duties. Everything was going on exactly as if nothing had happened. But it had, and now he didn't know what the hell to do about it.