Road to Seduction (Kimani Romance) (13 page)

E
ric made the mistake of looking up to see Isabella’s expression as she climaxed, and the beautiful, half-smiling contortions of her face and pouty lips nearly did him in. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The arched back, the sweet straining column of her neck as she threw her head back against the pillows, the engorged dark nipples, her endless cries were all too much for a mortal man like him. Was he supposed to witness her ecstasy—knowing he’d caused it—and not come in his draws like a twelve-year old with his first wet dream? How much could he take?

More, as it turned out.

Isabella opened her eyes and a slow, seductive smile eased across her face, the kind that made a man’s belly do flips and his skin break out in anticipatory sweat. He swallowed hard, his gaze riveted to her, and watched as she rose up on all fours, her heavy breasts dangling like delicious fruit.

“Lie back.” Her eyes glittered with what looked like eagerness—excitement.

Eric’s heart nearly stopped. “I don’t—” he began, but Isabella was in charge and she was having none of it.

“Lie back,” she said again, and this time she pushed his chest until he complied.

Panting now, he gripped the sheets and told himself to hold on as she slid lower.

But then she cupped him and her tongue stroked up the length of his overheated flesh and he cried out, his back arching off the bed of its own accord, and there was no holding on.

Isabella seemed to like this reaction. Tilting her head to look up at him with those gleaming, knowing eyes, she smiled again and sucked him all the way into her mouth. Those plump lips wrapped around him was the sexiest sight he’d ever seen and he gasped, every muscle in his body strained to the breaking point.

Gripping her silky head as it bobbed over him, he watched her for a few seconds and felt the excruciating pleasure tighten deep in his belly, but then she began to make thrilling little humming noises that vibrated through him—as though she’d never tasted anything as delicious as him—and the heightened sensation was too much. He broke free, desperate to thrust inside her now.

Shaking now—there was no other word for it—sweating, trying to hurry, hurry,
hurry,
he reached over the side of the bed for his shorts and caught sight of Zeus. That silly dog was sitting there watching him with rapt interest, his little teddy bear head cocked to one side as though he was trying to learn from Eric’s technique. Eric would have laughed if he hadn’t been so close to catastrophic heart failure caused by his lust for this one woman. Muttering, he tossed the shorts in Zeus’s direction and the dog scampered off.

Eric’s hands wouldn’t function. It felt like he was wearing twelve pairs of leather garden gloves, and he just couldn’t manage things that required fine motor skills, like getting a condom out and slipping it on. After the longest delay of his life—he couldn’t get his lungs to expand, couldn’t think, couldn’t move fast enough and his body was going to
explode
—he worked the damn thing on.

Isabella, now on her back again, watched him with her bright brown eyes half closed, and when he caught her gaze she smiled and opened her arms for him.

His heart threatened to burst.

Beyond desperate now, barely capable of a coherent thought, he wanted to grab her, take her and never let her go, but he forced himself to slow down.

But then she whispered to him. “Come here.”

That was it. Game over. With a cry he rose up over her and drove home, into that delicious body that was so hot and wet, so unspeakably tight and, better than that,
right
.

Isabella went wild, writhing beneath him…meeting him…matching him…stroke for stroke, surpassing any dream he’d ever had, any fantasy, any hope. Those thighs he’d drooled over tightened around his waist, pulling him deeper, and her hands searched and roamed, digging her nails into his nape, shoulders and butt, hurting and pleasing him. He’d be a mess of scratches later and he didn’t give even half a damn.

And the noises she made. She was destroying him with those choked, breathy sounds that were music to his ears and heart, Mozart for his soul. He’d never be right again after this. Not even close to right.

Yeah, it was all over for him.

Much as he wanted to prolong the pleasure until he passed out from it, he just couldn’t hold on. Five strokes, six tops, and that was it. The hot squeeze of her body was too much, and she did it to him every single time.

He’d slide out to the very tip, until they’d nearly separated, and try to work her, just a circle or two to make sure she was as crazed as he was, but she was in charge the whole time and she was having none of it. She’d rise up to claim him again, and he’d have to plunge in again, harder…faster…stronger.

On that sixth stroke he felt the eruption coming and there was nothing he could do as the wave retracted, gathered strength and hurtled out of his body. Sinking his fingers deep into the fragrant silk of her hair, he whispered her name—it was all he could
manage, a lame, half-choked whisper. After that there was only time enough for him to slide his tongue into the sweet depths of her mouth and hold on before the blinding sensations crashed over him.

And he was flattened. Ruined in the best possible way.

He went rigid, paralyzed and helpless with ecstasy.

On and on it went, like nothing he’d ever felt before or likely ever would again, and she was right with him, chanting his name on breathy sighs. Listening to her, feeling her, absorbing her, he wondered—even before his spasms had died away—how soon he could take her again, how many times tonight he could have her before his body gave out, how much was too much to need her.

Finally it was over and they clung to each other, stroking hands over damp skin, sweaty and exhausted.
Changed
. Nothing could be the same after this. This time was different from the first time, although he wasn’t yet sure why. He would damn sure figure it out, though.

Disentangling himself inch by reluctant inch, he slid off the bed. Zeus, who was now settled, with Fluffles, on top of Eric’s shorts, looked up hopefully, but he didn’t have time for that dog right now.

After a step or two away from Isabella, Eric had to glance back and make sure she was still there. She looked wonderfully rumpled, a sensual mass of wild hair, swollen lips and flushed skin—more than good enough to eat, and he intended to hold that thought until he got back from the bathroom.

Waiting until she arranged the white sheet around her body and glanced up at him, he fixed her with a warning look. Her drowsy eyes widened with surprise and wary anticipation and he was fiercely glad that he had her full attention as he issued his warning.

“You’re not allowed to leave this bed tonight, Isabella.”

A sexy smile, the kind that scrambled men’s brains, made them saddle up armies and ride out on crusades, curved her tender lips and knocked the breath right out of his lungs.

“I know.”

“Good,” he said after a lengthy pause during which he tried
to remember what the hell they’d been talking about. He paused again, feeling half-witted at best, no-witted at worst. “Great.”

They stared at each other, neither moving.

Well, it was nice to have her assurance, but he still felt unsettled. Partially because of her little
leap-out-of-bed
routine earlier and partially because he knew they still had mountains between them and a lot of things to resolve. Since she was being so agreeable, though, he decided to toss a few more concepts out to her and see how she reacted.

“And we’re going to spend tomorrow night together, after the wedding.”

“Okay.”

Her easy agreement, perversely, made him all the more agitated and greedy. “And then we’re flying back to Columbus for Andy’s baptism on Sunday. I’ll arrange to have my car sent home later.”

She opened her mouth.

“No arguments,” he added quickly.

She probably wanted to protest the use of the Lear, but being environmentally conscious was the very least of his concerns at this critical juncture. He’d make a donation to Save the Penguins or some such later, when the fate of his personal life wasn’t hanging in the balance.

“Fine,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

He could tell from her pursed lips, which were always a dead giveaway, that she didn’t like it, but that was just too bad. There was one more thing—the
big
thing, the only
important
thing—that they needed to discuss, a card he needed to lay on the table, and he was anxious to get to it.

“And I’m not going to be nice and stand by and quietly watch you move to another continent.” He paused for maximum effect because there wasn’t going to be any negotiating on this point, and she may as well realize it now. “You know that, don’t you?”

He hadn’t expected a quick agreement this time, and he sure didn’t get one. A shadow darkened her face and it was as unwelcome to him as a castration or lobotomy. He held her gaze,
watched her struggle with his pronouncement, until finally she gave her reluctant and unhappy answer.

“I know,” she said.

In the awkward—no, painful—silence that followed, one thing became utterly, undeniably clear to him: she still wasn’t his. His fight was still far from over and, for all he knew, was just beginning. Maybe she would never be fully his and the worst thing about it was that he had no idea what kept Isabella from belonging to him the way he belonged to her.

A shiver ran up and over him, chilling his bare skin and driving away the last of the feverish heat he’d felt in the bed with her, only minutes ago. The magnitude of his problem hit him, making him feel like a thin sheet of ice, brittle and easily shattered.

He was flying blind here and it scared the hell out of him. He was hers and he knew it, but, even though he’d just loved her the best way he knew how, given her every ounce of feeling he had to give, she still wasn’t his.

The knowledge cramped in his gut, sickening him, and he wanted to rage at her, to make her tell him what was really going on—and there
was
something, he could taste it—but he eased back, forced himself to turn away and continue on to the bathroom.

Tonight was for loving. There was plenty of time for fighting later.

And anyway…nothing made him work harder than a challenge.

“I guess we should get ready for this wedding, huh?” Isabella asked.

Exhausted and sated, glistening with sweat and happier than she’d ever been or could have ever hoped to be, Isabella stroked the rough silk of Eric’s short hair. He lay with his head on her bare breasts, his thumb skimming across her nipples every few seconds and stoking the fire that burned so brightly for him even now, seconds after he’d made her come.

Again
.

True to his word, Eric had kept her in bed all night and no actual sleeping was involved. When she’d put her feet on the floor this morning, she felt like a new person.

It was a ridiculous cliché, so trite she was embarrassed to think it, even to herself, but it was true. Eric had worshipped her so thoroughly, touched her so tenderly and listened to her so intently, that she felt like a queen. As though she could climb any mountain, swim any sea, or cure any illness. As though no unhappiness could ever find her, much less touch her, as long as Eric stayed close.

They’d gotten up, driven the last few hours to Jacksonville Beach holding hands but talking very little and arrived at their third hotel together. The second they got up to their room, Eric pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss so feverish, so desperate, that she wondered how they’d managed to keep their hands off each other while in the SUV and, worse, how she could possibly put half the world between them when the time came for her to fly to Johannesburg.

And even though they’d made love all night and she was sore and they were running late for the wedding, they tumbled to the bed and made love again because she was addicted to him.

But now it really was time to get dressed.

Groaning, he raised his head, one heavy brow quirked. “What wedding?”

“The wedding,” she said, palming his face because she needed to touch him at all times, “that is the reason we drove to Florida in the first place.”

A wicked smile inched across his face and tied her stomach in the kind of delicious knots she didn’t ever think she’d get used to. “I thought we came down to Florida to make love, Iz,” he murmured.

She flushed until even the ends of her hair felt like they were glowing. Repressing her simpering grin was impossible. “That’s only the side benefit.”

His killer grin widened. “Helluva benefit.”

Knowing they’d never get out of bed—
ever
—if they continued like this, she decided to ignore his commentary. “Do you want to shower first, or should I?”

“We can’t share?” He gave her a bewildered look, all wide-eyed innocence. “Think of all the polar bears we’ll kill with two showers instead of one.”

As if she’d say
no
to an activity that let her help save the environment while spending naked time with Eric.
Please
. “Come on.”

They lingered in the shower and raced through the reapplication of clothes—white linen pants and tunic for him, fluttery yellow flowered sundress—her favorite because it was so bright and cheerful—for her. Isabella threw on Zeus’s little black tie and grabbed the leash and then they were off.

They made it downstairs, through the lobby and out the hotel’s back doors to the enormous seaside deck just ahead of the first bridesmaids. The pianist was striking up the first notes of Luther Vandross’s “Here and Now” when they settled Zeus under a shady palm tree and ducked into the last row of white folding chairs on the bride’s side of the aisle.

Isabella took a minute to enjoy the balmy breeze and tang of salt in the air. There were probably more beautiful settings for a wedding, but none came to mind. Up front, against the backdrop of the white sand, rolling sapphire waves and aqua sky, stood an arch covered with pink and white roses, and more explosions of roses edged the seating area and aisle.