Alright people I've have had ENOUGH of the dictating…so here I am with the latest chapter. Im putting them in back to back since im so close to finishing it up… thanks for all the reviews and for the 50th time yes this is my first attempt at a fanfic…alright well here it is…
Chapter 6
Darien wasn't on the yacht when Serena arrived, after all. Melvin helped her with her bundles and then left her alone. As she stood in the stillness of the huge master suite she was at a loss, wondering whether or not to get ready for the party. Jeannie hadn't mentioned a specific time, and she'd been in such a state of shock over the older woman's admission of love for her grandfather, she hadn't thought to ask.
She decided she'd walk back to the main house and ask somebody, but when she reached the foyer and had partly opened the door that led to the deck, she stopped in her tracks. Darien was coming along the dock, his expression closed and contemplative. She watched his approach in something like a trance. It struck her anew every time she saw him, how physically magnificent he was, and today was no exception.
He was wearing a dark blue, drop-shoulder shirt that accented the astounding width of his shoulders. His black belt and white, pleated trousers with their relaxed fit, served to highlight his trim waist. All in all, he was the picture of casual good taste, looking crisp, yet comfortable, his ebony hair glistening in the late-afternoon. Serena felt her heart turn over, convinced she would never see a more erotic sight under any tropical sun if she searched for the rest of her natural life.
She scanned his features, unable to tell from the expression if he was upset of just deep in thought, and she wondered how his day had gone. It shocked her that she even registered such a thought. She didn't give a damn about his day!
When he bounded aboard, he swept the door open, finding himself unexpectedly chest to nose with her. He halted abruptly, his features exhibiting surprise then closing in displeasure. "Ms. Tsukino, lurking behind doors can be dangerous, unless you want to be run down."
She blushed, not aware that she'd let go of the door and had been standing dumbly behind it, thinking about him, of all people in the world to dwell on. Feeling both restless and peevish, and unsure why, she retorted, "Well, if you'd ever tell me what's happening, I might not have to keep going in search of information! I didn't know anything about this party until Jeannie mentioned it. I was on my way to find out when I had to be ready just as you burst int!"
A shadow of annoyance crossed his face, but Serena had the feeling he was more annoyed with himself than with her. He plunged his hands into his slash pockets, and exhaled tiredly. "Forgive me, Ms. Tsukino, I thought Jeannie would remember to tell you. It starts at eight o'clock. I'll be occupied with business for several hours. You go on without me."
"Aren't you coming?" she asked, startling herself with the question.
He'd half turned, heading toward his office. With a tired shrug, he glanced down at her. "I'll join the party when I have time. I'm still running a business you know."
She frowned, not looking forward to facing his nosy, self-centered relatives alone. "I'll wait for you," she murmured
A brow lifted in what appeared to be surprise, but she didn't suppose he could be more surprised than she, for she'd had no idea she was going to say that until it came out of her mouth. "You'll wait for me?" he repeated. "Why in hell would you want to do that?"
She cast her gaze away, uncomfortable. "Grandpa and Jeannie won't be there. I don't know those people. All they wasn't to do is grill me about my past, my grandfather, and insist I use my influence on you."
"Use your influence on me?" His wry tone irritated her, and she couldn't understand why. "Do you mean they expect you to influence me with pillow talk, Ms. Tsukino—that they expect you to climb naked into my arms, make love to me and between gasps of pleasure coax me to become more conservative in my business dealings?"
The sexy picture he painted stunned her, siphoning the blood from her face, and she took in a sharp breath.
He chuckled morosely. "Don't tell me you thought all business decisions were made in the board room."
She couldn't find her voice, could only stare, wide-eyed.
His gaze grew circumspect, and he searched her pale face. "For all your lying and conniving, Ms. Tsukino, sometimes you amaze me with your gullibility." He clenched his teeth, eyeing heaven. "What the hell," he acquiesced, sounding put out with himself. It was obvious he had enough troubles without concerning himself with hers, but for some reason he'd decided to take them in consideration. "Wait for me if you'd rather. My relatives can assume we're late because you've been—influencing me."
She stood there, upset and shaken, long after he'd disappeared into his office. For some demented reason she was unable to erase the image of their bodies entwined in passion, his kisses arousing her to gasps of pleasure…
Serena's mood was solemn as she secretly watched the party get under way from behind a tinted window in the main salon. Once again, she'd tried to reach Mamou's doctor, but this time she was informed that he was out of town. She'd left her name and Darien's Grand Cayman number, but was frustrated at her continued failure to get any information. It seemed as though she was thwarted at every turn lately.
Deciding it would do no good to wallow in her troubles, she focused her attention on the party. Lights she didn't even know existed had blinked on high in the boughs of the trees that lined the beach, giving off a romantic glow over the sumptuous spread laid out on long tables. Pristine tablecloths were spread along the twenty-foot length of the buffet tables, covered with all manner of tropical fruits, flowers and delicious-looking dishes Serena could only guess at from this distance.
A reggae band was set up in the sand off to one side. People were wading, dancing, snorkeling and eating. Laughter abounded. Seiya Braxton was easy to spot in his green Bermuda shorts, and matching shirt. Ever since he'd arrived, some twenty minutes earlier, he'd been circulation among the partygoers. She realized he was "working" the group for all he could while Darien was away.
Following his stunning figure with her eyes, she watched as he hugged, guffawed, patted and kissed. Though she was wishing him luck, some small voice inside her was suggesting it was deceitful of him to discredit Darien behind his back, while still managing to seem so appealing and charming as possible while doing it. She tried to force that negative idea back, telling herself this was big business, and evidently there were no rules requiring fair play.
"Ready to go?"
Serena spun around, not having heard Darien's approach. He'd changed and was now clad in an navy cotton shirt. Though it had buttons down the front, he'd left it open, exposing a lightly haired chest and washboard-taut belly. His swim trunks were a striking spatter-print design of aqua, yellow and navy. He wasn't wearing shoes, which explained why he'd managed to come up on her so quietly.
As he lounged against the salon door, his gaze roved over her in lazy appraisal. She felt a tremor along her spine, sure he would find her wanting. He was accustomed to polished society types. What must he think of her—a common sparrow pretending to be a peacock?
She'd never worn such and expensive swimsuit. Even though this baby blue colored was a once-piece tank with now great show of either cleavage, hip or thigh, she felt underdressed. It had come with an ankle-length scarf skirt in swirls of blues and white that could hardly be considered much in the way of clothes, for it was nearly transparent and opened all the way up her dies to her waist, where it was tied. Though this swimsuit had been one of the least costly, and least skimpy, she still felt exposed beneath his scrutiny.
His gaze traveled back to her face, and then to her hair. She'd left it down, flowing just past her shoulders. She lifted her chin proudly. Let him find fault. It was fine with her if she didn't go to the party at all.
He grinned, startling her. "Come here," he said softly.
She blinked, half afraid to. What did he intend to do? When she hesitated for several more seconds, he crossed the distance between them and took her by the hand. "I'm not going to bite you, Ms. Tsukino. Come on."
He led her to their suite and before she could protest he'd taken a brilliantly blue iris from a vase and turned to her. Surprising her further, he lifted the hair from her temple and held the flower there, scanning it as though trying to decide how it would look.
"What are you doing?" she asked, experiencing and odd stirring at his touch.
"Wear this in your hair tonight."
She nodded absently, her whole attention focused on the brush of his hand against her face. "I—I'll go pin it in."
When the took the flower from him, she thought for a second his fingers lingered on hers, but decided she must be wrong. In her bathroom, she glanced at her face while she shakily fastened the flower in her hair. Her cheeks were so flushed anyone would have thought she had a raging fever, or possible just risen from a superb round of honeymoon lovemaking. That thought made her blush deepen. She splashed her face with cold water and patted her skin dry before she reemerged from the head. He was waiting for her by the door, his expression unreadable.
When she reached him, he entwined his fingers with hers. She glanced at him, confused. They weren't within sight of anyone, so there had been no need for the deception. Why had he taken her hand?
His expression closed, drawn in a frown, and he seemed to be light-years away in his mind. She grew peculiarly despondent about that. Somehow she'd sensed that when he'd given he the flower there had been actual fondness in his glance. She shook herself of the thought. She didn't want him to be fond of her. She was not fond of him! No doubt he'd taken her hand merely to hurry her along.
An hour later Serena had sampled so much delicious food she thought she'd never be able to eat again and for her to think that is saying a lot. The baked crab had been heavenly, as well as the roast yams, grape aspic, avocado salad and almond pie. She hadn't been able to bring herself to try either the turtle burgers or fried bolter, which was a specie of banana, sliced thin and fried. But it was just as well, for she knew she would expel with one more bite of anything.
Darien's arm had been gently encircling her waist most of the evening, yet she was still highly disconcerted by the warmth of his touch. Not because she didn't like it, on the contrary she did, and that worried her terribly. Every so often, he reminded, "Put your arm around me," and she'd tentatively done so, but she felt like such a fraud.
They were wading in a ankle-deep water. A sultry breeze ruffled her skirt, and the hem dipped and dived into the lapping waved, wetting it. Darien's arm, as usual, was wound about her, his large hand nearly encompassing her waist. She'd managed to work up her nerve to circle his waist with her arm. Unfortunately for her peace of mind, the frolicking breeze had lifted his shirt just as she'd slid her arm about him, so she was forced to cling to his bare skin, and was having a hard time thinking about anything else.
The music was low and erotic, the beat torrid and tropical, in the background. The stars twinkled above, winking at her, telling her they knew her predicament and found it intensely funny. It was too bad she didn't agree.
"You're very quiet," Darien said, surprising her from her unsettled musings.
She glanced up into his face. He was smiling at her, and that was so disconcerting she couldn't maintain eye contact. Casting her gaze out to the midnight-black sea, she whispered, "I hate what we're doing."
"You hate walking on a beach in the moonlight?"
She gave him a hostile, sidelong glance. "You know exactly what I mean. I don't understand how you can look so at ease. Or is lying through a smile a major part of big business?"
"I would remind you just whose lie this is, darling," he began, kissing her temple, "but your grandfather's coming."
She stiffened. "How do you know? We're facing the wrong way."
"Listen."
She stilled, straining to hear. After another second she heard him calling over the other laughing and chattering voices. "Messy Miss!" It was a gravelly, winded sound, but clearly her grandfather's voice. Releasing Darien's waist, she consciously rubbed her temple where she could still feel the tingle of his lips against her skin. Pivoting to face Mamou, she faked a smile that had to be her poorest effort so far. "Hi Grandpa. What is it?"
He was leaning on his cane, shuffling barefoot through the white sand, his slacks rolled up to reveal spindly ankles. A pug trotted on each side of him, looking perfectly contented. When he reached them, he grinned broadly, first kissing Serena's cheek, then hugging Darien. "I'm sorry I haven't been able—to visit with you two—today," he apologized, taking deep breaths between words. "But Jean's been making me take it easy." He reached into his slacks' pocket and drew something out. "But—I wanted to get this to you, my boy—before I forgot."
Darien frowned when Mamou held out his fist. "Here. This is yours."
Holding out a hand, Darien allowed the older man to drop something into his palm. "Found these between the cushions of the couch—in my room this morning. Would have weighed heavy on my conscience if I'd forgotten to get them to you."
When he'd drawn back his gnarled fist, Serena stared down at what he'd given Darien. Four silver coins twinkled dully with reflected light. Mamou was grinning at his granddaughter now. "Well, I'd best get back. Jean's helping Chef Lita make your yogurt tarts, and I'm worried that she'll have her in tears if I don't hurry." He turned away, made a smooching sound, calling, "Come along, Opal, Reuben. Dessert in a few minutes."
As he hobbled off, the pugs barked their farewells and headed after him. Serena shifted toward Darien as he watched her grandfather weave his way through guests lounging in chairs or on towels along the beach.
She sighed. "That's the man you think embezzled from you company?"
He glanced sharply at her, then down at the coins in his hand. Without comment, he slid the money into his swimsuit pocket. Taking her hand, he turned her away from the general crowd and led her off into deeper shadows.
"Where are we going?"
"Nowhere, just walking."
"Don't you have to work the room?"
He peered at her. "You learn fast." Glancing away, down at the long strip of white sand before them, he shook his head. "I am working the room, Ms. Tsukino. Remember, I'm supposed to be married, settled. It's expected that I'd want to walk off down the dark beach to be alone with my new bride."
She laughed out loud, but it was a pitiful sound, for she was laughing at herself for forgetting how shrewd this man was. Every move he made was orchestrated to enhance his position with his board of directors. Why did she have to lose sight of that every few minutes? Why did she have to have these foolish feminine flashes when she thought of him merely as a man and herself as merely a woman—strolling hand in hand under a tropical moon?
"Why the laugh?" he asked.
She ran a hand through her hair. "Nothing," she lied through a dispirited sigh. "Window dressing for the board."
"I think we're far enough away that we cant be heard."
She didn't respond. He was right. Voices were too distant to make out any conversation and the band was playing, so anything they said would be drowned out by the music. She listened to the tune the band was playing. It was something she recognized. "Blue Moon," an old favorite of her grandfather's. Though the melody was still very recognizable, it was being played with a more animated rhythm. She decided she like it.
Unconsciously, she scanned the indigo sky. The moon above them was neither blue nor full—but a wide crescent of gold, hanging suspended above the highest swaying boughs of the red mangrove and feathery palms. The breeze was salty yet overlaid with the floral scents of an equatorial night. She inhaled deeply, knowing she was living out as romantic a scene as any woman could hope for.
She cast a surreptitious gaze at the man beside her. His profile was rugged yet somber. The ocean breeze had tossed a swath of dark hair across his forehead, making him seem almost accessible. She felt an unwelcome upwelling of attraction for him, and had an urge to reach up and smooth his hair into place. Hurriedly, she turned away, fighting the impulse.
They'd moved into comparative darkness. Waves swirled around Serena's ankles as they shambled through the eddying tide. Darien was on the ocean side, and she was glad, for she didn't swim well, and didn't relish the idea of being swept out to sea on an undertow.
A piercing pain in her foot made her cry out.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I don't know," Unthinking, she put her weight on him, lifting her foot to inspect it. Before she could see what was wrong, he'd lifted her in his arms and as carrying her toward dry sand.
He strode with her to the edge of the forest where he ripped a couple of palmetto leaves from a palm. Placing them on the sand, he lowered her to one while he sat down on the other. "Here, let me see." He took her injured foot in his hands.
She tried to withdraw, feeling foolish.
"Don't," he cautioned. "If it's a sea urchin spine, you'll need treatment."
She chewed the inside of her cheek as he examined her foot. "It—it's better already," she insisted. "I don't think it was anything, really."
His hands were so warm against he wet flesh, she almost forgot the pain as he probed and stroked, removing sand to get a better look. "I think you may have just stepped on a broken shell. How does it feel now? Any stinging?"
She swallowed, wanting to say, It's never felt better, but she knew that wouldn't be very bright. "Fine," she croaked, embarrassed that she'd acted like such a sissy. "I—I think you're right about a broken shell. I was just jumpy. I don't know what sort of things lurk in the ocean."
He smile then, his white teeth amazingly clear in the darkness. "Little Miss Midwest meets the big, bad ocean."
A blush fired her cheeks, and she was thankful he couldn't see it in the darkness. "Something like that, I guess." She watched as he drew up a knee and encircled an arm around it, getting comfortable. Suddenly nervous, she shot a glance over her shoulder toward the lighted area where the party was going on. A tall, irregular outcropping of rock blocked her view, she whirled to face him, demanding, "Is this another ploy of yours? Are they supposed to think we're making love?"
His smile faded and he glanced back toward the party. It seemed clear from his expression that he hadn't planned any such thing. He'd merely set her down to examine her foot. His chuckle brought her back and she focused on him. "That's what it'll look like, all right," he admitted. "Do you mind?"
Her poise was little more than a thin shell about her now. Being out here alone with Darien under a tropical moon was difficult enough on her nerves. But the idea of having thirty people think she was having wild sex with him on the beach made her absolutely crazy!
On the other hand, she was supposed to be married, supposed to be on her honeymoon. Making love on a moonlit beach with the man you loved was one of the most romantic notions in the world. It they were truly newlyweds, they would very likely be doing just that.
Trying for a nonchalant shrug, she muttered, "I guess I don't mind. It's no worse a lie than anything else we've let them believe." She had a sudden idea, and as rankled enough by this whole bizarre situation to ask. "Have you made love to many other women on moonlit beaches?"
His eyes narrowed speculatively. "Other women?"
That word "other", and the taunting way he'd uttered it, hit her in the pit of her stomach like a hot rock. She squirmed at the sizzling feeling it elicited. Why had she asked the question that way? It made her inquiry sound as though she expected him to make love to her, too! "I—I meant…" Infuriated by his ability to fluster her so with one mild query, she snapped, "You know what I meant!"
The beginnings of a grin touched his mouth. "I don't know, Ms. Tsukino."
"Of course you do!" she insisted. "It's as plain as—"
"I mean, I don't know how many women I've made love to on moonlit beaches."
That admission stopped her. Dropping her gaze, he began to toy with the tie of her skirt. "Oh…" she breathed, so humiliated she couldn't face him. He'd made love to so many women that even in the subcategory of "moonlit beaches" he couldn't remember them all! She had an overpowering urge to scream, but she squelched it.
Well aware that she was acting like a silly schoolgirl, she forced herself to stop messing with her tie and sit up straight, though she couldn't quite face him. Trying for nonchalance, she challenge, "I—I suppose a playboy like you would be very proud of—"
"Quiet," he ordered under his breath.
She snapped her head around to look at him and opened her mouth the ask him what his problem was, but he halted her by holding two fingers before his mouth. He'd twisted to stare toward the party and seemed intent on something.
She turned, too, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "What is it?" she finally asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.
Frowning, he waited a few more seconds, then commanded, "Wait here." He got up and soundlessly loped to the colossal boulder that protruded from the forest. When he got there, he edged around it to check the other side. Serena's stomach constricted when she understood what he was doing. He thought someone had been eavesdropping! After another half minute, he reappeared and came back to settle beside her.
"Find anything?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"You didn't see anybody? Any tracks?"
"Hell." He shrugged. "There are tracks all over. People have been all over this beach all day."
"Do you think anybody could have heard us from there?"
He nodded. "I think so."
"Oh, no," she moaned.
"It's possible it was just a turtle crawling into the brush."
She pulled her knees up and hugged them. "I hope so."
"If it wasn't, we'll know soon enough."
She rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes. "Maybe we didn't say anything incriminating," she offered hopefully.
He chuckled morosely. "We're not making love, Ms. Tsukino. That's incriminating enough."
She twisted to glare at him, horrified. But quickly enough, she realized he was right. It was ironic that she had to worry that someone might have caught her not having sex. What an impossible position their lie had put them in!
Out of the night came the tawny-throated warble of a familiar bird call. "Mockingbird," she mumbled, forcing her thoughts to less distressing things.
"They're called nightingales here," Darien said.
"Really?" She listened, finding her spirits life at the sound. "It's a pretty word—nightingale."
" 'The little live nightingale had come to sing of comfort and hope,'" he began quietly, contemplatively, and Serena realized he was quoting from something. He went on. " ' As he sang, the phantoms grew pale, and still more pale, and the blood flowed quicker and quicker through the Emperor's feeble body. Even death listened and said "Go on, little nightingale, go on"!'"
Serena faced him. His expression was sober. "What was that from? It's lovely."
"Hans Christian Andersen," he said. "I probably misquoted. It's been a long time since my mother used to—" He stopped himself, gritted his teeth and looked away.
Serena knew his family was a sore subject with him, but she had to ask, "Your mother read to you when you were a boy?"
He didn't answer, merely stared out at the undulation sea. For a long time all she could hear was the distant reggae interpretation of "Strangers in the Night," the slow swishing of water washing along the sand, and the faint sigh of the trade winds in the treetops.
"Darien," she tried again. "I'm sorry you lost your parents—"
"I didn't lose my parents," he cut in, grinding out the words contemptuously. Then he laughed, a bitter, empty sound. "Oh, they dies in a boating accident, all right. But they'd shipped me off years before…" He faced her again, his features hard. "Damn it. I hate this place."
Abruptly he stood, and instinctively she did, too, her heart going out to him. She couldn't begin to understand what had happened to make his parents desert him, and clearly he couldn't understand it, either. She watched in the darkness as his jaw worked in frustration and long-buried grief.
With his childhood wound so visible, she forgot she disliked him, forgot that his family had caused her grandfather a lifetime of heartache, and took his large hand in both of hers. "I'm sorry Darien," she offered helplessly. Not knowing what to do, she simply tugged on his fingers. "Sit down. Let's enjoy the night and try to forget—everything else." She tugged again, returning to her seat on the palm leaf.
He glanced at her, his features grim. She was still holding his hand with both of hers, refusing to let go. Urging again with another gentle pull, she decided to try to lighten the situation, and teased. "We wouldn't want to go back too quickly. Assuming it really was a turtle you heard, we're still supposed to be newlyweds. What kind of bridegroom takes only five minutes?"
He grunted out a humorless chuckle. "It's kind of you to consider my ego, Ms. Tsukino." Sitting back down, he stared out to sea.
She hesitantly let go of his fingers and leaned back on her hands, digging her nails into the sand in an attempt to scrape away the touch of his skin against hers. "You forget, Mr. Shields, my ego's at stake, too. What sort of bride would I be if I couldn't keep your attention for longer than five minutes?"
He drew up a leg and circled his knee with his arms. This time his chuckle was deeper, more genuine. When he glanced her way, his lips were quirked pleasantly, sending a strange shrill along her spine. "How long do you think our egos need to stay out here?" he asked.
His wry question let her see the absurdity of the whole situation and brought a grin to her face, too. "Thirty minutes?"
He leaned back, stretching out his long, muscular legs. "The male ego is a delicate mechanism, Ms. Tsukino. I'd say, at least an hour."
She laughed. "Too bad we didn't bring a deck of cards."
"Too bad you're a virgin or we could really make love."
She'd glanced toward the darkened ocean, but when he said that, she turned to gape at him. He was watching her, his grin teasing. "Or do you want to insist again that you're not."
She pulled up onto her knees and belligerently faced him. "Do you seriously suggest that you know women who'd make love to you on the beach, simply to pass an hour?"
His grin grew wider. "You continue to amaze me," he taunted softly. "Of course I know women like that."
"Well," she scoffed, "if you want my opinion, you've been hanging around with the wrong kind of women!"
He laughed openly, a mellow sound that affected her against her will. Of course he knew that kind of woman, her mind berated. He was so gorgeous, so charismatic, she had no doubt that he could even turn other kinds of women into that kind of woman. He was sitting very close to one woman who was not that kind of woman, but might throw herself into his lap at any second and become that kind if she weren't severely stern with herself right now!
"We could look for constellations, if you'd rather," he offered, laughter in his voice.
"What!" she flung back, only to realize her tone was a bit harsh for his harmless suggestion.
He was shrugging off his shirt, which worried her until he laid it on the sand behind her and gestured. "Use this so your back won't get sandy." Even as he said it, he lay down beside her, cupping his head with a hand. With the other, he pointed toward the sky. "That's Canis Major."
She eyed him dubiously for a moment, but decided he was serious about looking at stars. She lay down on his shirt and squinted in the direction he was pointing. "Where?"
"Near Puppis."
"Oh, near Puppis," she quipped, making it clear from her tone she had no idea where Puppis might be.
He shifted her way. "Canis Major contains the star Sirius, if that helps."
"Immensely," she returned, having no idea what he was talking about.
"What about the Big Dipper? Can you ding that one?"
She examined the sky, quickly spotting it. She was relieved, because half the time she couldn't even locate that one—the easiest constellation to find. She pointed. "There it is."
"Good girl. Little Dipper?"
"No idea."
He chuckled. "You're going to have to try harder, Ms. Tsukino. At this rate, we're not going to need an hour."
She glanced at him and was disconcerted to see that his eyes were on her rather than the heavens. "I guess I'm—I'm not much good at stargazing," she murmured, her voice going fragile and shaky.
"I'll help." He lifted up on one elbow. "The Little Dipper contains the seven brightest stars in the constellation Ursa Minor. Look, there."
She turned in the direction he pointed, but didn't see any particular seven stars that looked all that bright. "How do you know so much about stars?" she asked.
"I don't. You just know less than I do."
She peered at him. The charming grin he flashed seemed so real—nothing forced or phony for onlookers—and she responded with feminine appreciation.
"Are you cold?" he asked, sounding closer.
She pulled her lip between her teeth, wondering why part of the sky was suddenly blocked from her vision. After a few erratic heartbeats, it occurred to her strangely numbed brain that he was nearer, looming over her. She shook her head. "I—I'm not cold…" On the contrary, she was growing deliciously warm from the radian heat of his body.
"Serena…" The murmur of her given name out here in private, away from everyone, seemed as intimate as a caress.
"Hmm?" She couldn't get her lips to move, so the questioning sound was the best she could do.
"I'm going to kiss you."
She swallowed. She'd sensed his intention before he'd said a word, and she had no idea why she was allowing this. Crazed, weak-minded female that she was, she wanted him to kiss her, couldn't find a shred of resistance to the idea. That was illogical, counter to everything she'd ever thought or said or hoped! Yet none of that mattered at this moment, not with his powerful body so near, his eyes so beguiling.
His statement of intent hung in the air between them, unanswered for what seemed like hours. Evidently he was giving her a chance to cut and run, to act like the faint-hearted virgin he thought her to be. If she could have formed a coherent response, she would have told him she had no intention of going anywhere. But as it was, she couldn't move or speak. She could only stare up at him, mute invitation in her eyes.3
Annnnd cut…sorry to do that to ya guys, but I thought I'd leave you hanging until the next chapter…I wonder how far that's gonna go…lol…until next time people :Kaci:
