One Touch of Topaz (6 page)

Samantha gazed at him in fascination, experiencing a primitive stirring within her.
His enormous strength and virility were magnetic. “I like the way you look.” She stared at his broad shoulders. “You’re very big, aren’t you?”

His frown deepened with anxiety. “I won’t hurt you.” He dropped to his knees, one hand cupping her breast in his palm. “I know I’m built like a mountain, but I’ll be careful. You’re so damn little.” His eyes narrowed, and a flicker of relief replaced the anxiety on his face. “Your heart is beating double time. Maybe you don’t care…. Does it excite you to know how different we are?” He plucked teasingly at her nipple. “It excites me.” One hand began unfastening her belt as the other gently opened and closed on her breast. “I like to think how tight you are. How you’ll squeeze me.” His finger circled her nipple.

The tingling between her thighs appeared to be spreading, throbbing through every nerve in her body.

“You’ll sheath me tightly. Like this.” His
hand gripped her breast. “But I won’t release you, like this.” His hand released its pressure. “I’ll keep going, moving until I—”

She didn’t realize she had made a hoarse sound deep in her throat, but he heard it. He stopped, and his smile held a touch of savagery. “You want me? Now?”

She nodded. “Please,” she whispered.

His chuckle held surprise as well as sudden tenderness. “What a polite little girl you are. It’s I who should say ‘please.’” He rose to his feet and reached down to pull her up. “Please, will you get rid of the rest of these monstrous clothes?” He was getting rid of them himself, even as he spoke. He kicked the garments aside and smiled down at her. “Please, may I pet you?” His hand cupped between her thighs, gently massaging her womanhood.

Her eyes widened in shock as impossible sensations convulsed her. Her hands grabbed wildly at his shoulders. “Fletch—”

“Shh, I haven’t remembered to be this polite in a long time. I believe I’m enjoying it.”
His fingers insinuated, stroked. “Please, may I pleasure you this way, Samantha?” His eyes studied her face. “And it
is
pleasure, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she murmured, her eyes closed. “Wonderful.”

“So are you,” he said softly. “Wonderfully tight. Wonderfully ready for me. Open your eyes, Samantha.”

She opened heavy lids, gazing at him languorously.

“That’s what I wanted to see,” he whispered. “I want to know you’re wanting me.” He drew her back down on the blanket. “I want to know you’re mine.” He gently pushed her back and came over her, his eyes blazing down at her. “And you are, aren’t you?”

There was something wrong, she realized vaguely. There was a hardness in the demand that was at odds with the pleasure he was giving her. “I don’t think—” She broke off as his fingers began the magic he had so recently abandoned. She bit her lower lip to
keep from screaming, as wave after wave of desire engulfed her, drowned her. “Fletch, I can’t …”

“I can’t, either.” He gazed down at her, his nostrils flaring, his eyes glittering wildly in the firelight. “I wanted to wait, but I’m going insane.” His lips pressed hard against her own, his tongue driving, plunging wildly. “Will you take me, Samantha? Now?” His teeth were clenched, his face drawn as if in pain. “Please?”

That last entreaty was not in the same half-mocking tone he had used previously. It was gasped with a desperation that stirred a strange maternal tenderness within her. Her hand reached up to tangle in his thick curls. “Yes,” she whispered lovingly. “Now, Fletch.”

His lips covered her own as he entered her slowly, carefully. She could feel the tension in his every muscle as he tried to hold himself back from her. Fullness … She closed her eyes, savoring the deliciousness of the
sensation. Yet it was not quite enough. She moved, trying to tempt him to give more.

“No, be still. I’m trying to …”

She knew he was only trying to be careful, but the deliberateness of his movements was driving her mad. She moved against him, fighting to take what he would not give her.

“Samantha, please, I can’t stand—” Suddenly he groaned and plunged deep.

His mouth on hers smothered her single involuntary cry. Lightning-quick pain. Then, like lightning, it was gone. Now there was only fullness, beauty, a pleasure so intense that her head was spinning.

“Open your eyes.” His voice was low, stunned.

Her eyelids opened, and she gazed up at him dreamily. His expression revealed even more than his voice how stunned he was, she realized hazily. Well, she was feeling pretty stunned herself, pleasure-struck and entirely bemused. “Wonderful,” she murmured.

“How badly have I hurt you?” His voice
was harsh. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Why the hell—”

She lifted her head and stopped the words with her lips. “No. Wonderful. It’s all wonderful.” She clenched herself around him. “Go on.”

A shudder ran through his body, and a low groan broke from him. “Samantha, I can’t do this. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“I don’t care,” she said fiercely. “I can’t bear this. I want—” She broke off because the words were no longer necessary. He was giving her what she wanted. Thrusting, plunging, moving her body so she was bound still closer to him. Deep. Deeper.

Wild pleasure, hot hunger—she couldn’t tell one from the other. They were both intertwined, bound as their bodies were bound, taking and giving.

Her hands tightened in Fletch’s hair, her head thrashing from side to side as she drowned in a searing ravishment of the
senses. Her lips parted as she tried to force air into her lungs.

“Beautiful.” Fletch’s voice was hoarse, jerky. “Lord, you feel beautiful. It’s like nothing—It’s too good, love. I can’t hold on. Please.” He leaned forward to kiss her. “Please try.”

What was he talking about? Then she knew, as he drove with a force and wildness that carried her to the heights of rapturous sensation. To the heights and beyond.

She couldn’t move. If she were not still bound to him, she was sure she would drift away and be lost somewhere in a sea of starlit darkness. But she
was
bound to him, she realized contentedly. She could hear the harshness of his breathing above her and feel the solid strength of his thighs on either side of her. His scent surrounded her, and she knew she would be able to recognize his musky male fragrance for the rest of her life.

She would open her eyes soon, she decided, because she wanted to look at Fletch’s face. He had looked so beautiful in his need
and vulnerability when he had pleaded with her to release him. She slowly forced her lids to open and recieved a shock. Fletch’s face was no longer either vulnerable or pleading, but definitely grim. “Is something wrong?”

“What could possibly be wrong?” he said caustically as he moved off her. “Everything’s absolutely wonderful!”

She thought she understood then. “You didn’t enjoy yourself? I’m sorry I wasn’t experienced enough to make it pleasant for you.”

“Pleasant for
me?”
He drew a deep breath. “Just don’t say another word for a little while. Okay?” He stood up and crossed to the pile of blankets against the far wall and brought one back to her. “Sit up.”

She felt too languid and content to move, but she decided she’d better obey him. He seemed terribly upset for some reason, and she didn’t want the moment spoiled by conflict.

She sat up and was immediately enveloped in the blanket. He tucked the blanket around
her, carefully pulling her hair from beneath its confines and arranging the chestnut tresses down her back. Strange. Though she could sense the anger in him, every action was performed with the most exquisite tenderness. He clasped her hand onto the opening at the front of the blanket, moved back a few steps, and sat down.

He was truly a magnificent specimen, she thought dreamily, her gaze running over him in the firelight. All bronze power and rippling muscle. Why had she ever thought he wasn’t handsome? Just looking at him now sent a shiver of remembered sexuality through her.

“Now I have some questions to ask you.”

She smiled mischievously. “You told me not to talk.”

His eyes narrowed on her face. “You seem in very good humor.”

“I am. I feel marvelous. Perhaps it will be better for you next time.”

“I think that’s what I’m supposed to say
to you,” he commented dryly. “I take it your first experience was not a disappointment?”

She shook her head. “It was wonderful. Thank you.” She covered a yawn with her hand. “But I’m suddenly awfully sleepy. Does it usually have this effect?”

“Sometimes.” He brought up his knees and looped his arms loosely around them. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to bite the bullet until I get a few answers.”

“You want to know why I was a virgin?” She shrugged. “I’ve been busy helping to fight a war since I was fifteen. I guess I never met anyone I wanted to make love with.”

“Lazaro?”

“Ricardo and I grew up together. He’s my friend.” She yawned again. “Can I go to sleep now?”

“Not yet.” His entire body took on a leashed tension. “One more question. Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why me?” His linked fingers tightened until his knuckles showed white. “First you
say no, and then a complete turnaround. It was too damn sudden.”

Her brow wrinkled in a frown. “You didn’t seem to mind at the time.”

“I was hurting so much that I didn’t give a damn what your reasons were, as long as you let me have you.”

“Then why should you care now?”

“Because you were a virgin, dammit,” he shouted. “Whatever motivated you must have been pretty damn strong, and I don’t flatter myself that the magnificence of my body was the draw.”

She could tell him that if she’d been aware just how magnificent his body really was, it would have been, as it was now, an irresistible lure. “I did want you,” she said evasively.

“Maybe, but that wasn’t all. Why?”

She realized he wasn’t going to give up; he would keep battering at her until she surrendered. She sighed. “I was afraid.”

He stiffened as if she had struck him.
“Of me? My Lord, I wouldn’t have forced you.”

“No, not
of
you,” she said quickly. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. It was other things.”

“What things?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head wearily. “Death, the patrols, dying before I’d ever really lived.” She looked down into the heart of the fire. “Then I had a dream …”

“What about?”

“It’s not important.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I suppose I used you. You have a right to be angry with me.”

“Yes, I do, but not for the reason you seem to think. I can stand being used.” His lips curved cynically. “I’ve been used any number of times. I know I’m no Casanova, and as long as the bargain is mutually beneficial, I have no objection to women taking what they want from me. But you did something different, you made me feel—” He stopped, searching for words. “I feel like
Attila the Hun! I’m healthy and strong, and the first thing you did was to fool me into eating your food and making you go hungry. And then you let me make love to you without telling me you were a virgin. I was so damn eager, I was clumsy as hell and probably hurt—”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she said, interrupting quickly.

“The hell I didn’t. I must have—”

“No, really, it was wonderful. I enjoyed every minute of it. I’m only sorry you didn’t find it pleasurable.” She frowned worriedly. “I feel terribly guilty about that.”

He was clearly exasperated.
“You
feel guilty? How do you think I’m reacting? I feel like a child molester.”

“I’m not a child, and if anything, I’m the one who molested you.”

“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?” It was evident she didn’t, for she was gazing at him with the puzzlement of a child.

“It’s not ridiculous at all. I thought I was
being exceptionally aggressive. Maybe not very skilled, but you have to admit I was enthusiastic. Would you like to do it again? If you’ll help me, I’ll try to please you more this time.”

He wanted her. His body was hardening at just the thought of entering her again. Why the hell not? He could be very careful with her this time. She was willing, and he had never before been shy about taking what he wanted from a woman. Yet now he was experiencing a hesitation that was incomprehensible to him. “You said you were sleepy.”

“I think you could wake me up.” Her lips trembled as she smiled at him. “And I’d like you to hold me again. I felt so safe.”

Safe. It was fear that had driven her to him before, and she was still afraid now, he realized. There might be desire mixed with that fear, but it wasn’t the paramount emotion at the moment. She was bargaining something she thought he wanted for a fleeting moment of forgetfulness and security.
Though she didn’t realize it, she was using him again, and he found he was feeling no resentment, only aching sympathy.

He rose to his feet in one lithe movement and crossed the few paces between them. He dropped down beside her, gathering her into his arms, blanket and all. He settled her against him, her cheek in the hollow of his shoulder. “Go to sleep,” he said gruffly.

“You don’t want me?” She cuddled close, her hair splaying out over his bare shoulder in a silken cloud.

“No,” he lied. “Not now.”

“Well, if you’re sure …” Her eyes closed, and she turned boneless in his arms. “I am a little tired.”

Tired? She was nearly asleep, he thought ruefully. “I’m sure.” His arms tightened around her. “We’ll talk in the morning. Go to sleep now.”

“All right. Thank you.” Her breathing was steadying, deepening. “It’s very nice of …” She was asleep.

She was weightless in his embrace, and
her long lashes feathered her cheeks, accenting her delicate bone structure and the thinness of her face. He felt a wave of overpowering tenderness and possessiveness. His lips lowered slowly to brush against her temple as he tried to settle himself for the night. The ground was stony, and the ache in his groin reminded him that he still wanted this child-woman in his arms.

Lord, he hoped this attack of uncharacteristic gallantry would pass into oblivion as quickly as it had come. He had an idea it was going to be the cause of a damnably uncomfortable night.