Authors: Barbara Delinsky
It was as though Drew had decided to ignore her inner turmoil. He was the perfect gentleman, as he had been on so many of their earliest outings in Connecticut. The weather had cleared with his mood, and she could not help but relax. A long walk on the paths of Mount Royal soothed her even more, the view of the city from its peak being well worth the exertion. Daran knew that the ball was in her hands; she could run with it or pass. For the rest of that afternoon and through dinner at a small but charming restaurant, she held it, wavering, unsure, knowing that it represented much more than a mere weekend’s field play.
When they finally returned to the apartment, Drew spent several hours studying the papers he’d brought, leaving Daran to sit with him, resting back against the sofa, letting the sight of the man before her and the soft music on the stereo lull her to drowsiness. Still she made no move when he led her to her room, then gently kissed her forehead with a soft good night before heading down the hall to his own room.
With the darkness came the undeniable realization that she was most definitely in love with him. As she lay in bed waiting, listening, wondering, pondering, daring to hope, she knew that it was time for her finally to make her move. Rising slowly from her bed, she made her way into the hall and to the door of his room. The racing of her pulse was the only sound as she entered, the soft click of the door as it closed behind her its only follow-up. The pale moonlight cast its glimmer on the form propped up against the headboard of the huge bed. It made no sign of welcome, merely waited for her.
Doe-soft steps took her to the edge of the bed. There she stood in silence, gazing at the man she knew she loved, needing now some small sign that he wanted her. That he was bare to the waist and beyond was barely hidden by the light sheet bunched about his hips. When he drew the sheet back and slowly eased himself from the bed to stand before her, she didn’t flinch. Only then did he speak.
“Are you sure, honey?
Really
sure?”
The thickness in her throat choked off sound and breath. Yet she nodded with a sense of conviction that answered his question conclusively. When he took her in his arms, she was home. The soft moan that slipped through her trembling lips was muffled against the fine mat of hair on his chest, and she held him with every ounce of her strength, willing those old fears to oblivion, wishing never to leave this spot. For long moments he held her quietly, soothing her with his mere presence, letting her slowly gain confidence. Then he drew back and lowered his head, his lips capturing hers with a tenderness so sweet she could have cried out again.
Long fingers slipped beneath the thin straps of her gauzy nightgown, letting them fall down her arms and the soft material float to her feet. The air that touched her body was instantly warmed by his hands, tracing with devastating gentleness the curves of her femininity he had only begun to imagine. When the quivering of her knees betrayed her emotions, he lifted her off her feet and laid her carefully on the bed, sitting down beside her to drink in her beauty. The path his eyes took heated her blood wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth and desire. Then he looked at her face once more, capturing her eyes as he had the awesome power to do. All other thought fled but that of the desperate love she felt.
“I don’t want you to be frightened, Daran,” he crooned softly, beginning to stroke her hair and her face before letting his hands drop to her shoulders, then to her breasts. “Please trust me. Let me love you.” Whether the word had been merely a figure of speech, she no longer cared. She did trust him. Bill no longer existed, nor did the trauma he had inflicted on her on nights such as this, in the darkness, on his bed. Now there was only Drew and his magnificence—his body and his hands that stroked Daran to distraction.
Her own hands found their way to his chest, caressing its sinewed firmness, then moving to his waist and hips. With a moan, he lowered himself beside her, drawing her into his arms and against the full form of his masculinity. Kisses merged with caresses, then sparked an exploration of each other that fanned the raging fires. Their breath melded together in short gasps, their tongues sought solace in and on one another. No part of her was left untouched as she reached a height that only his full possession could exceed. At the moment she would have begged for release, he hesitated, studying her eyes a final time for a sign of that haunted shadow. Its absence was the sweetest victory he had ever tasted.
Never would she forget that moment, nor the one that followed as he took her, filling her with such mind-shattering ecstasy that she understood, for the first time, the full potential of her womanhood. Again and again he led her on that rapturous climb, forging higher and higher, reaching new and unimagined summits, joining her in the climactic and shuddering joy that left them both, at long last, spent but satisfied. When she slept, it was in his arms; when he slept, it was in hers. Neither permitted the other escape; neither wanted it. It was a night Daran would always cherish, a night when she lived the depth of a love she had never before felt or imagined. As she slept, she had no way of knowing that the waves of peace and fulfillment that surged silently through her came directly from the long, muscled male form curved intimately around her, itself awash with peace and fulfillment for the first time in many, many years.
CHAPTER 9
A gentle rain of kisses brought her eyes slowly open to face the dawn, just broken over the city, and the man beside her, his hands gently caressing her.
“Good morning,” he drawled softly. “How did you sleep?”
As the memory of where she was, and the night that had just been, winged her into consciousness, she smiled. “Never better.” Raising her face, she sought his lips with her own, thanking him wordlessly for the joy he had brought her, unknowing of the greater one to come.
It was a warm murmur against her lips. “I love you, Daran.” Her amber gaze, fully alert suddenly, shot to the silken gray beam that took up the caress of his lips. “I’ve never said that to any woman. But I do love you, Daran. Is that so very hard to believe?” He had read the incredulity in her expression and challenged it quietly.
Several moments passed before thoughts formed coherently in her emotional whirlwind. “It’s hard to believe that something you’ve felt and wanted for so long can actually be true.”
The arms that tightened convulsively about her told of his own joy; the demand of his kiss spoke of his need for reassurance. When he finally let her speak, the words that had been held back would be no longer. “And
I
love
you
. I never thought I’d be able to tell you that, but it’s true.” Daran’s heart was racing as wildly as Drew’s when he hauled her head back against his chest. “I love you, Drew,” she whispered moments before the circle of his strong arms cut off her breath, only to relax an instant later in the resumption of the gentle exploration that so thrilled her. The trail of his hands blazed over her back, her hips, and her thighs, and they set fire to every point they touched before they turned to climb over her abdomen and rib cage to her breasts, now straining and full. With the knowledge of his love tucked into her heart, she opened herself to him as never before. But it was no passive offering, for her own desire was to touch and explore him with this newfound confidence. The strength of back, shoulders, and chest rippled beneath her questing fingers. The smoothness of his hips, the fine texture of his thighs, the rising ardor of his manhood—all gave her as much pleasure as his workings on her.
Soft words of love flew back and forth amid the torrent of emotions that engulfed them. If the night had been one of discovery, this early morning tryst was one of enhancement. Freed forever of the fears that had held her captive for so long, she gave of herself totally, with more passion than she had known she possessed. And it was matched by Drew’s, so rich and deep and beautiful. Again they soared to mutually climactic heights. Again each new pulsing spiral surpassed the last in intensity.
The sun’s first rays skittered on the window sill when they finally lay back to let the tremors subside. As she cuddled close beside him, their damp bodies in perfect and restful fit, she heard the words once more. “I love you.” Whether it was her own voice, which had intoned the vow so soulfully, or his, did not matter. It was a mutual expression of what they had experienced.
Very slowly the heartbeat beneath her ear steadied. “I thought last night was magnificent, Daran,” he murmured, half-dazed with exhaustion, “but this has topped even that.” Again he spoke for them both, voicing the very thoughts that filtered through her own haze. But there were other thoughts, things she wanted desperately to tell him.
“You made it so beautiful for me, Drew,” she began, lifting her head to rest her chin on his chest. “You were so gentle. I needed that.” Eyes that had been closed now opened in gray anticipation of what was to come. “There was only one other man—”
“Shh.” A strong hand seized her head and forced it around and back to its more restful pose.
“But I want you to know—”
“I don’t
want
to know.” The softness of his tone carried its force nonetheless. “I love you now. The past isn’t important. It’s the future that matters to us. God, how I love you!” It was as though he could not say it enough. The fierceness of his hug drove all though of that past from her mind. He was right; it was their love that mattered now.
Within minutes the steady rhythm of his breathing turned to the slow rhythm of sleep. Content and fulfilled, Daran lay with him, reveling in his peacefulness though wide awake herself. Her eye followed the lines of his body, bare and gleaming in the growing light. He was all man. That she had known for months. Yet, now, as she unabashedly thrilled at the sight of him, she knew even more. For his lovemaking had been masterful, his virility exquisite. It was all she could do to keep from reaching out and touching him again, from awakening him, from guiding him once more to her. The familiar tingling erupted in her loins. Wishing to still it, yet refusing to remove herself from the intimate circle of his body, she forced her mind to other thoughts.
But there were none to be found. All thoughts at that moment revolved around Drew. And the future. What would it hold? If he loved her as she did him, could they make it work? It was the same quandary that had been present so often in her mind. Politics was a marriage unto itself; it was, in its way, all-consuming. Yet the past few months had shown her what one man, a politician at that, could do if he so wished. Drew had made the time for her. During those hectic weekends in Connecticut, he had always made time for something personal in each day. Even in Washington, where his demeanor had been much more formal, he had shown that, when he wished, he could find the time to spend with her, whether in the Capitol corridors, in his office, at her hotel suite, in his condominium, or at a restaurant. If he wished, he could find the time.
Her mother’s words returned to her, and the lesson was there. It was one thing to plan a life with Drew, another to anticipate one without him. The latter was total anathema to her. She loved Drew. And, yes, she was willing to make sacrifices, to make changes in her personal life to accommodate his. Surely there could be found a happy solution. There were excellent colleges in Washington where she might possibly find a position. The point was to be with him, to be there when he was, where he was. If they loved each other, all things would find proper places in their lives.
On that optimistic note she finally drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep. When a voice came suddenly, loud and alert, to her ear, she jumped. “What is it, Drew?”
The room was bright in morning sun, “Damn it! My watch—where did I put it! I hardly ever take it off—”
“The dresser,” she interrupted softly, lying back with a smug grin on the bed, pulling the sheet to her chest as she watched the lithe figure bound across the room.
He was magnificent!
And, she beamed with satisfaction, he had taken off his wristwatch for her. That he had done that—a man who was positively addicted to the passing of the second hand—was a tribute unto itself. For he had known last night, that she would come to his room; as surely as he had known how to woo her, he had expected her.
“And what is so funny?” The growl was a playful one, offered as the tall form turned back to her, strapping on his watch, then coming to stand, in all his natural majesty, by the bed.
The flush on her cheeks was unmistakably a love-blush. “Not funny,” she corrected gently, “but lovely. You are. Your body is.” Her gaze ran the length of it before returning to his eyes. “But, there
is
one thing I still don’t understand about it.” The smile that played on her lips spoke of mischief.
The mattress yielded beneath his weight as Drew sat down beside her. A tawny eyebrow returned the mischievous slant, arching beneath the hair that fell carelessly across his forehead. “Now what could that be? As I recall it, you were pretty … thorough earlier today.”
She was to be neither embarrassed nor discouraged from asking the question. “How do you keep that tan, busy as you are?” Her hand reached to trace the distinct line where bronze ended and pallor began, low on his abdomen. “It can’t be all from the pool in Simsbury; you’re never there.” Drew sucked in his breath as she spoke, then grabbed her hand in mock punishment.
“Keep on doing that, honey, and you’ll never make it there either. I may just keep you in bed round the clock.” His expression sobered as he paused, seeming to hold his breath for the moment. “You
are
going to marry me, aren’t you, Daran?”
The whispered words of love that had been spoken before had made no mention of marriage. But the idea had been there, in Daran’s mind, for weeks. Even with the few lingering doubts, she could not deny either him or herself.
“Yes.” It was as simply said as that.
A broad grin, the whitest ever in that famous smile, cut through the lean hollows of his cheeks. “Then you’d sure as hell better learn to control those wandering fingers of yours and let your intended get shaved, showered, and dressed. Otherwise he’s apt to be out of a job.”