Authors: Robyn Grady
‘An
unusual one,’ she decided, accepting the stick. Then she noticed a fan of
delicate flowers hanging from a shoot.
‘Most
bamboo only flower once every few decades.’
Really?
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘It
has deep symbolic meaning in Asian countries.’
Understanding
the connection, she half grinned. ‘You mean like Malaysia.’
‘There
they speak of a legend where a man dreams of a beautiful woman while he sleeps
under a bamboo plant. When he wakes, he breaks the bamboo stem and discovers
that the woman is inside.’
Libby’s
heart beat high in her throat. Was he in some way comparing the couple in the
legend to them? Gathering herself, she cleared her throat.
‘That’s
a lovely story.’
‘An
old man in Sepang once told me that bamboo bends in a storm—’ he took the top
of the stem she now held and slanted it to the left ‘—and when the storm is
over it stands straight again.’ He set it right. ‘It never loses its original
ground … its integrity.’
She
held her breath against a push of emotion. Now he was definitely talking about
her … telling her that bending here, now, with him, wouldn’t affect the respect
she’d earned in her profession. He’d gone to a lot of trouble—finding this
flowering piece of bamboo, looking into legends and symbols of the East. She
was touched, and yet the voice of caution implored her to beware.
‘Alex,
why are you here?’
His
gaze lingered over her lips and his voice dropped to that deep drawl that sent
her heart pounding and common sense melting into a puddle.
‘You
know why I’m here.’
When
his hand slid down the stem and covered hers, his skin on hers felt so good. In
a strange way, familiar. Two minutes together, one small touch, and already she
felt about to crumple.
But
then she bit her lip and shook her head. She wanted to believe what she felt
when they’d kissed was real. She wanted to be like so many other women who took
a chance and were willing to see where things led. But she couldn’t take the
next step.
She
was frightened to.
She
lifted her chin. ‘This shouldn’t happen. We shouldn’t get involved.’
The
back of his free hand brushed her cheek. ‘Too late.’
She
was shaking inside and when his head lowered and his mouth skimmed her brow,
overcome with deepest longing, she quivered to her toes.
Against
her hair, he murmured, ‘Say you’re not angry with me.’
When
his lips grazed her temple and his warm breath brushed her ear, torn in two,
she groaned. ‘I’m angrier with myself.’
‘Let
it go,’ he told her.
And
then she was lost in his kiss, a caress more beautiful, more erotic, than any
she’d known. Perhaps because this time she’d almost surrendered. Almost
submitted to what seemed inevitable. But was this what she wanted? Did she need
to open up this much to a man she’d known only two weeks? Even if he seemed so
sincere?
Needing
air—needing
space
—she broke away and
held her forehead.
‘Alex,
you’re confusing me.’
‘I’m
trying to be clear.’
His
hands wound around her waist and his mouth claimed hers again. But she wanted
to explain … needed to let him know …
The
rest of that thought evaporated when reality ceased to exist and both her arms
floated up to coil around his neck. His chest rumbled with satisfaction and she
felt his smile as she liquefied like a dollop of creamy butter in the sun. But
as his palm slid down over her hip, then her thigh, a sliver of reason shone
through the drugging fog. If she truly intended to go through with this—make
love—there was something he needed to know.
Reluctantly
this time she drew away. His breathing heavy, he rested his brow against hers
and smiled into her eyes. ‘You’re not going to say you’re still confused.’
‘There’s
something I need to tell you.’
His
lips nipped hers as he brought her gently flush against his body. ‘You don’t
need to tell me anything.’
Her
stomach pitched. ‘I really do.’
Stepping
back, she caught her skirts and began to ease the satin up. But Alex kept his
eyes on hers.
‘Libby
… I know.’
Her
hands curled more tightly into the satin and, as her throat thickened, she
frowned.
‘You
… know?’
About my accident? About my leg?
When he nodded, her throat swelled more, cutting off her air. Growing
light-headed, she shook her head. ‘You knew all the time?’
‘Only
after you left this morning. I guessed there had to be more to the way you’d
acted. I ended up discovering that you and I are more alike than you know.’
Her
mind was caught in a whirlpool. She didn’t know which way to turn or how to
respond, especially to that last remark.
‘Don’t
tell me you wear a prosthesis because that’s something I wouldn’t have missed.’
His
smile was brief and … understanding. ‘I know what it’s like to live with the
consequences of the past. To want to whitewash or, better yet, forget they ever
happened.’
Her
defences sprang up. ‘I don’t have anything to prove,’ she lied.
‘Then
let me prove something to you.’
He
kissed her again, this time with a deliberate care that asked for her
consideration and her trust. When he angled down and swept her off her feet,
this time she surrendered and didn’t shy away. She did, however, think to
murmur, ‘Carrying me … you might hurt your shoulder.’
He
began to walk. ‘It’d be worth it.’
With
her cradled in his arms, Alex crossed to the centre of the living room, then
spotted a quilted bed beyond an opened door. Moving through, he manoeuvred to
flick the light switch with his shoulder, but Libby stiffened.
‘Could
we leave the light off?’
Alex
studied the concern in her gaze. Perhaps it was the bond they shared through
love of their individual sports. Maybe it was as simple as sexual chemistry
combining and setting off sparks that wouldn’t die. Whatever the reason, in a
short time Libby had come to mean far more than an early ticket back on the
track or just another available female. What he’d learned about her accident
made no difference to those feelings. But he needed to let her discover that in
her own time. In her own way.
In
the shadows he smiled into her eyes. ‘Whatever you want.’
He
crossed the room and, beside the bed, he set her on her feet, eased back the
covers, then returned to trail a series of soft kisses around her jaw while he
untied the gown’s sash and carefully peeled the sleeves from her arms. The tip
of his tongue drew a deliberate line from the tilt of her chin down the curve
of her throat while his touch drifted and cupped to measure the sensual swell
of her breasts. Groaning at the jolt of pleasure, he grazed the pads of his
thumbs over her nipples, making the already tight beads harder still.
While
her fingers combed his hair and she told him with a breathy sigh how wonderful
he felt, he bit down against the urge to go about this consummation with a
little more haste. If she thought he felt good, she felt better than heaven.
Better than anyone, or anything, he’d known before.
He
tugged the silk bow beneath her bust as his mouth worked soft scorching kisses
along the sweep of her collarbone. When he slid the thin straps from her
shoulders and her satin sheath fell to the floor, he lifted his head to hold
her with his eyes while his erection throbbed and hardened more. In the dim
light, he saw the wince, her gaze drop away, and all the breath left his lungs.
She’d
never wanted him to know about her leg. Now she was worried over what he might
say or think when she had nothing to hide behind. And for a terrifying
heartbeat, he wasn’t certain
what
to
do. Libby was beautiful. More than anything, he wanted to make her feel that
way. What if he somehow botched this by saying or doing something
unintentionally thoughtless? Where his apprehensions over Annabelle were
concerned, that had translated into saying and doing very little indeed. Damned
if he’d turn away from this, but how should he reassure Libby?
But
then a feeling—a unique sense of awareness—settled over him and, like a light
turning green, he knew and could go forward. He only needed to be honest. In
coming here tonight, he’d put himself out on a limb. Now he would do everything
in his power to let her know it was safe to do the same. With every stroke,
every kiss, he’d let her know he was glad their meeting had come to this. Most
important, he hoped she felt the same way.
He
cupped her shoulders and murmured close to her ear, ‘I’m one very lucky man.’
He
heard her intake of air at the same time she tipped slightly back. In the
shadows, her wide luminous gaze met his, then, gradually, a guarded smile
touched the corners of her mouth.
‘I
should warn you … it’s been a while.’
He
grazed his cheek tenderly against hers. ‘Then we’d best make up for lost time.’
He
swept her up and laid her on the sheet.
Libby
was a quaking bundle of nerves. She wanted to do this, be with Alex this way,
but she was also terrified to the marrow of her bones. One part of her cried
out to trust him. He was a mature man who, better than many, understood about
life; that she wore a prosthesis didn’t factor into his feelings here. Another
part, however, had reverted back to the uncertain, confused girl she’d been the
first year after her accident. She felt lacking. Odd and incomplete.
But
then he undressed, lay down, gathered her close and when his mouth covered hers
again, those torturous dark feelings little by little fell away. Soon her arms
went out, wrapping around his neck, then her fingers were splaying up through
the back of his hair as they kissed hungrily, with all the passion they’d both
tried at one time or another to deny.
Sighing
into his mouth, she gave herself over to the magic. Let all her inhibitions
wash away. The way he stroked her, adored her, was the highest form of bliss.
Making love—
being
loved—had never
felt like this.
When
his lips left hers and his teeth grazed down one side of her throat, every
nerve ending sizzled and her mind went to mush. Then he was dabbing warm firm
kisses over her breasts, drawing one nipple into his mouth while he teased the
other between a forefinger and thumb. All her other sensibilities fell away.
She only knew his flesh on her flesh. Only felt his mounting desire stirring
with hers. But when the caress of his mouth slid lower, and the glide of his
hand did the same, all Libby’s fears plumed up again, so thick and fast that
they cut off her air.