Rosa smiled in triumph. It was his turn.
He reached around behind her and fought to release the stubborn hooks and eyes that held her waistband closed. She assisted by taking a step toward him, but discovered the move only placed her a breath away from his broad, smooth-skinned chest. She watched his breast rise and fall with each breath, felt the magnetic heat that radiated from him. Nothing in the world could have kept her from pressing her lips to the place where his heart was pounding as wildly as her own.
The hook and eye finally gave. Rosa felt the waistband sag before it draped her hips. Kase slipped his thumbs inside the skirt and pushed the fabric past her hips to the floor. She stood in a puddle of rose-patterned wool.
He took her hand like a courtier, and she stepped out of her skirt like a queen. Kase led her to the bed. The mound of lace and fringe-edged pillows lay scattered about the bed; he swept them out of the way with a wave of his arm. Then, before he directed her to sit, he tossed back the satin spread.
Rosa sat on the edge of the bed, and Kase knelt before her, his capable hands working the buttons of her shoes free. He threw the shoes aside, then rolled down her ribbed woolen stockings. A frown creased his brow, and he looked up at her questioningly.
“Have you ever had a pair of silk stockings?” He thought of his sister, who had probably not worn wool stockings since she was eleven. Caleb always teased Annika that she must have been appointed to the post of national clothes collector without the family’s knowledge. Her room was usually cluttered with petticoats and shoes, hats, and all manner of women’s geegaws. Now that he thought of it, he’d seen more than one pair of expensive embroidered stockings hanging from her bureau drawer.
Rosa shook her head, worried that she had somehow proved unworthy.
Kase made a mental note to ask his mother to send him a few pairs of stylish silk stockings when he wrote to her tomorrow. He noticed Rosa’s apprehensive expression. “Would you like some wine?” he asked.
The wine she had already consumed had warmed her, made her feel more relaxed than she ever imagined she could under the circumstances. Though she was far from intoxicated, Rosa knew the wine was helping her ease into this new experience of sitting half naked with her dark-skinned Gypsy kneeling at her feet. She visibly started when he reached beneath her petticoat and rested his heated palms against her thighs.
“No,
grazie,
no wine.” She was barely able to speak.
Kase stared up at her, took in the sight of her hair falling about her shoulders, saw it piled up about her hips, midnight black against the sheets. Her eyes were round with anticipation and wonder; her lips, already swollen from his kisses, appeared moist and inviting.
He slid his hands higher, reveling in the feel of her silken thighs. Leaning forward, he pressed his upper body against her knees and slowly slid his hands up to her hips. He reached for the waistband of her petticoat. The bow that held the undergarment closed slipped open easily. He hooked his thumbs into her petticoat and pantalets. When he tried to remove them, she balked.
Rosa leaned forward and cupped his face in her hands. She kissed him gently, her hair falling forward to tease him where it grazed his bare chest. She whispered against his lips. “Please. I cannot. Not with the light.” She held her breath, hoping he would not be angered by her request.
“The lamp stays on, but I’m going to try to stand up”—he gave her a wry smile—“and I’m going to pour two glasses of wine. Then I’m going to get out of these pants and join you. If you hurry, you should have just enough time to get all that off”—he pointed to her underclothes—“and get under the sheet before I get back.”
He was up and moving before she translated all he had said. When understanding dawned, Rosa stood and scrambled to the other side of the bed hoping it might afford her some modesty. She shucked off her pantalets and petticoat, then slid beneath the sheet. The camisole was still on when he crossed the room, stark naked, a wineglass in either hand.
Rosa stared at him, at the lean, long look of him in his nudity, at the unleashed strength in his torso and his erection. Then she looked at the fragile wineglasses in his hands and started to giggle.
“Thanks.” He feigned a frown. “What’s so funny?”
She took the glass he offered. “I am thinking, such a very interesting waiter you would make at Rosa’s in that ... that ...”
“Getup?”
“Sì.”
He slid beneath the sheet and used two pillows to prop himself up against the headboard. “A toast,” he said, raising his glass high, “to beginnings.”
“Salute.”
Kase drained his wine and set the glass aside.
“That is not the way one should drink fine wine.”
He noted her slightly trembling hand. “That’s the way you had better drink it or you’ll end up wearing it.” As he leaned toward her, the bed dipped with his weight.
Rosa took a sip, then another, but found her fingers trembling so that she could not drink any more. As it was, ruby drops of cabernet stained her camisole and ran slowly down her breast.
Kase took her glass and turned away long enough to place it beside his own. Then he stretched across the bed and leaned over to slide his tongue down the slick trail of wine on her breast until the camisole prevented further exploration.
“I thought you were going to undress.”
“I did—most.”
“Oh, now I have to do the rest?”
“Sho’ nuf.” There was a hint of mischief in her eyes.
The hearty sound of his laughter filled the room and Rosa’s heart swelled. She had made him laugh at last.
His laughter subsided, but a smile played about his lips. “Easy enough,” he obliged as he slipped the straps down her arms.
“That’s not the way.”
“No?”
“No. Over the head. Up.”
He sighed. When she raised her arms willingly, he grabbed the hem of the camisole and drew it off. With a flick of his wrist the cotton top went flying.
He drew the sheet back exposing the full lushness of her breasts. Before she could protest, Kase traced one of her peaked nipples with his tongue, then drew it between his teeth and tenderly toyed with the ripened bud until Rosa began to writhe in passionate agony. As his own excitement steadily increased, he ministered to the other dusky brown peak. Breathless, she clung to him, dazed by the sensations he plumbed from a wellspring deep within her. Consumed by ovemhelming need, Rosa held him close, afraid to move lest he stop.
Their limbs entwined. Kase pinned her beneath his heavier frame as she undulated against him and sought release from the pent-up desire that threatened to explode at any moment. He knew he would have to move slowly for her sake as well as his own lest he bring them both to the brink of completion too quickly. Trying to ignore the aching pressure in his loins, he pulled away and gazed down at the woman in his arms. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dazed, her lips parted.
“Please ...” she implored in a whisper.
His lips plundered hers, his tongue searched and demanded as it heightened their mutual pleasure. His hand slipped over the indentation of her waist, the lush curve of her hip. He brushed the silken nest at the apex of her thighs and then, without hesitation, his fingers found the enticingly moist entrance hidden there.
Instinctively, she raised her hips at his touch. As he delved deeper, as he ministered to her with sure, quick strokes, Rosa shuddered, clasped him tighter, and strained against him. His hands were magic, confident, and expert. Her every thought became focused on the man who plied her with such care, such finesse. His tongue circled slowly, tantalizing her own as his fingers duplicated the movement inside her. Soon her hips were sensuously imitating the same motions.
A sound was torn from her throat; a low, agonized moan that gave voice to the intense fire he had stoked inside her. As he muttered encouragement against her lips, his breath was hot and sweetly scented with wine. Rosa was lost in a world of sensation, a world scented with sage, wood smoke, and the maleness of him. She tasted the salt on his skin and the wine on his lips that mingled with the essence that was Kase alone. His skin was hot, moist with a sheen of perspiration. His hair fell forward with a feather-light caress to tease her cheek.
He continued to urge her to the brink of climax with his hand until he knew she was on the verge of release; then he pulled away and tried to still his own labored breathing. The sound of laughter echoed hollowly through the hallway outside, but Rosa was oblivious to the intrusion. Kase drew her into his arms and held her close as she continued to undulate against his hips with slow, rhythmic movements.
Raising himself on an elbow, Kase stared down at Rosa, gauged the hunger he saw reflected in her eyes, and knew that he could not wait any longer to give her what they both craved. He reached out and his hand came in contact with one of the satin pillows shoved against the headboard. He pulled it close, then, slipping one hand beneath her, silently urged her to raise her hips.
Consumed with want, Rosa complied, and Kase deftly slid the pillow beneath her. Positioned thus, her hips tilted to receive him, her heart beating with anticipation that only intensified with each passing second, Rosa held her breath.
He slid his hand along her thigh, gave her a silent signal that begged admittance, and she complied by spreading her legs to accommodate him. Gently, careful to keep his heavier weight from taxing her too greatly, Kase moved over her until he rested between her thighs.
She was grateful that he had insisted the lamp remain lit, for the lamplight enabled her to see the desire mirrored in his deep blue eyes. He smiled his slow, easy smile, then dipped his head to tug once more at her nipples before he groaned aloud. It was a rough sound, a totally male sound that made Rosa instantly aware of the power he held leashed inside.
Then suddenly he pressed the tip of his heated shaft to the entrance of her womanhood. There was no hesitant searching, no wavering indecisiveness. As Kase buried himself within her, the angle of her hips allowed him full access to her heated depths. Slowly, surely, he began to plunge and withdraw until Rosa cried out, not in pain, but in joy, until she was convulsed with waves of passion that only intensified until Kase clasped her to him. He cried out hoarsely as his own passion culminated in release.
As her climax radiated upward and outward in ever-widening circles of sensation, as she felt him spew his seed deep inside her, Rosa realized a fulfillment she had never experienced with Giovanni, one she never even knew was possible. Shaken by her response to Kase, she closed her mind to such haunting thoughts and reveled in the moment.
Sweat-sheened and slippery, they lay replete in each other’s arms as the violence of their passion quieted to a joyous blending of heartbeats. Kase gently eased the pillow from beneath her hips as he rolled to his back, pulling her against his side. Despite the heat that emanated from him, Rosa snuggled beside Kase and rested her cheek against his collarbone. She kissed the hollow of his throat and let her fingers trail over the hard plane of his well-defined chest, then spread her palm over his lower abdomen.
He pulled the sheet over them both and lay content, stared up at the ceiling, and rested his cheek against her hair.
A door slammed somewhere down the hall, followed by the echo of booted feet pounding down the stairs. One of the girls giggled; it sounded like Satin. Within a few moments, another moaned. It could have been any one of them.
Rosa shifted slightly and Kase glanced down at her. She had covered her eyes with her hand.
“What are you thinking?” Kase whispered, hoping she was not suddenly experiencing regret.
Her tone was hesitant. Unsure. “I try not to think.”
Rosa reached for Kase and laid her palm against his smooth chest. His skin was hot, his heartbeat slowing to a more even tempo. She tried to banish the sinful admission that plagued her. In the few weeks time she had lived with Giovanni, their lovemaking had never brought her close to the complete satisfaction and fulfillment she had just experienced in Kase Storm’s arms.
She had been Giovanni’s spouse. His wife before God and man. Now she had to face what her lustful need for Kase Storm had led her to become. His lover. His whore. Moments ago she had been so hungry for his touch that she had begged him to make love to her.
Would he have taken her had she not asked him? He had only invited her to talk, to hear him out. She had suggested he bring her here. She wanted to cover her face in shame and weep when she realized that in her eagerness to have him she had not even let him speak. She knew him no better than she had before they had made love; but she knew for certain that he had the ability to carry her to heights undreamed of—to touch her very soul in ways she never knew existed.
She closed her eyes and tried to calm her own racing heart. She felt Kase stretch toward the lamp on the bedside table and touch the key to the wick. Carefully, he lowered it until the room was bathed in darkness.
Even the darkness did not enable Rosa to hide her confusion and mounting shame. With every passing second she became more determined to slip away once Kase fell asleep.
Unaware of her turmoil, Kase smiled into the darkness. For the first time in a long while things felt right. He pulled Rose close and snuggled beside her, determined to hold her throughout the night. He planned to wake long before dawn and be certain he got her out of his room and the building before anyone was up and about. He kissed the top of her head and let his hand slide down the satin length of her hair until she relaxed and her breathing became deep and even.
The gray light of dawn muted the brash color of the walls in Kase’s room. He stretched slowly, careful not to awaken the woman sleeping beside him. Determined to have her up and dressed before anyone else was awake, he decided it would not hurt to let Rose sleep another quarter-hour. If they left by the outside back stairs and walked behind the buildings to the restaurant, she could get home without arousing suspicion.