The American Earl (Elbia Series Book 4) Page 10

  She accepted his kiss and gave back to him as much ardor. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her swiftly up the steps to his bedroom, taking the steps in twos, thankful the staff had left for the night.

  He didn’t want hushed, quick, mechanical sex. He wanted to spend an entire night with Abigail Benton, relearning the art of making love as she experienced it for the first time. He wanted to gentle her, then ravish her. He wanted to see sweet shock then drowsy pleasure in her eyes. He wanted to hear her cry out his name, while he howled like a wild creature at mating.

  It had been a long time since he’d wanted a woman more than once in a night. He knew he’d take Abby as many times as she let him, or until he sensed her body’s exhaustion.

  Matt kicked open the bedroom door and crossed the room in two eager strides. Although he’d meant to lay her gently on the bed, he was so excited he dropped her from two feet above the mattress. “Sorry.”

  She bounced, laughing up at him. “Is that what they call foreplay? Battering the female?”

  He grinned wolfishly as he unclasped his belt. “Very funny. Take off your clothes, woman.”

  “No.” She tilted her head and looked up at him impishly. “You do it.”

  Someone help me! he thought desperately. I won’t last five minutes.

  He cautioned himself to move slowly, remember how new all of this was to her. No matter how urgently he wanted her, or how ready he was for her, he must be responsible for causing her as little pain and as much pleasure as possible. A delicate balance to strike.

  He tossed his belt onto a chair. His shirt followed. She was wearing a blue dress that zipped up the back. The skirt was full, lying in ripples above her knees now. He sat on the edge of the bed, took one of her stockinged feet in his hands and stroked the curve of her instep. His mind was spinning, his body throbbing, but he forced himself to move slowly, starting as far away from where he wanted to end up, to give himself time to calm down and slowly bring her up to meet his state of readiness.

  There was something else new about this experience, he suddenly realized. He’d never been with a woman who hadn’t already slept with other men. He knew what he was supposed to find, anatomically, and vaguely what would occur when he entered her. But how to choreograph the important moment, he didn’t have a clue. In this way, he was as inexperienced as she was.

  His hands worked slowly but with a purpose. As she sat on the bed watching him, he smoothed his fingers around her instep, over her slim ankle, and upwards along her calf. “Take them off,” he whispered, indicating her pantyhose.

  She slid off the beige hose and let them fall beside the bed, her eyes wider now, with a touch of apprehension. He caressed one long, silky limb, raised her foot then grinned at her over it.

  She lifted a questioning brow and mouthed, What?

  He liked that this was all surprises for her. Feeling devilish, he brought her toes to his lips and kissed each of them. She shivered, giving an extra little quiver like a kitten waking from a nap. Her smile was curious, serene and eager all at the same time. He drew the tip of his tongue up the sole of her foot; she tasted of baby powder and vanilla.

  Letting out a little whimper, she curled her toes.

  “All right?” he asked.

  “Yes…definitely, yes,” she squeaked.

  Delighting in her reaction, he pressed out a row of soft kisses around her instep to the top of her foot, her ankle, and up over her knee and thigh. More than anything at that moment, he wanted to continue along the silky path of flesh and taste her essence. But it was much too soon for that. He feared she might be frightened or panic, then he would have failed at his task. He promised himself that treat later, if she allowed him.

  His hands worked with expert ease now, moving behind her back to unzip her dress, sliding her delicate shoulders free, unhooking her bra, letting her dress and panties disappear over the edge of the bed. At last, he had her naked before him.

  Matt didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious, but he couldn’t help sitting back for a moment to study her. He let his hands travel over her body, memorizing her as a blind man learns a person’s face by touch. Her breasts were small, tight and deliciously budded with small brown nipples. Her waist was slim but not emaciated or hardened with unnatural muscle. Her hips…ah, her hips beckoned to him and he cupped her bottom with his hands. She lifted her knees, opening herself to him.

  “Abby,” he breathed, “do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

  She smiled indulgently up at him, looking not at all afraid. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

  He had to some. This time he meant it.

  “All those years, you must have had to fight the boys off with a club.”

  She grinned. “No clubs handy tonight.”

  “I can see that,” he whispered hoarsely. “Listen, if I do anything that hurts you, tell me. If I don’t react fast enough, slug me. I have a feeling I might get carried away, and I don’t want you to think you have to submit to something that you don’t feel comfortable doing.”

  “All right,” Abby agreed solemnly. She looked down. “You have a beautiful chest.” She touched him lightly, still unsure why she felt not a lick of fear or timidity. She had imagined being overcome by the awkwardness of the moment. She had been sure she would feel embarrassed, vulnerable, even terrified when lying naked before a man. None of that even entered her mind. She let her fingertips drift through the short curls over his muscled chest, then let them trail down his stomach to his hips. “Do those come off?”

  He followed her gaze to his pants. “Occasionally.”

  She thought she noticed a slight trembling in his fingers as he unzipped then stood beside the bed to step out of them. Before he could remove the black briefs he wore underneath, she reached up and drew one finger along the diagonal ridge outlined by the fabric. It felt firm and interesting.

  He smiled at her, grasped her hand and pressed her palm over him. “That means the man behind the weapon finds you very appealing, miss.”

  “Learn something new every day.”

  “Ready for more?”

  She nodded.

  He edged the wide elastic band down over his hips, then all the way off. She fixed a wide-eyed look on him, ran her tongue between her lips twice, and swallowed. “Oh my…”

  He laughed at her expression, one of mixed disbelief and intrigue. “Like what you see?”

  “I…well, of course I…” She gazed helplessly up at him. “I’m afraid I’m too small. I mean just look at you…I could never—”

  “You will,” he said with quiet certainty. “Move over, Abby.”

  She slid to one side, keeping him in sight, watching for sudden moves. The one thing she didn’t want to do was scream or react foolishly to something that would be natural to an experienced woman, because then he wouldn’t make love to her. More than anything at this moment, she longed for that.

  He stretched out beside her. “I’ll take it easy. Promise.”

  She nodded.

  “Remember the cove?”

  She felt a heady warmth rise within her, intensified by their nakedness. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “May I touch you like I did there?”

  “Umm-hmm.”

  She watched his eyes, his wonderful dark eyes as his hand lowered beneath her sight line. Then she felt his fingertips moving between her thighs. She let her knees fall a little farther apart.

  “Relaxed?” he asked.

  “Oh sure,” she said. “Like a cat in a clothes dryer.”

  He chuckled. His hand rested over the softly furred mound of her womanhood, moving in soothing circles. His head lowered, until his mouth closed over her breast. She felt all the tension drain from her body as his tongue and teeth played with her nipple, drawing her into his mouth.

  “Better,” she murmured. “Oh, that’s nice, too.”

  His hand was finding the same spot it had found at the cove, a sensitive little button of flesh
between her legs. Each time his finger flicked over it, her heart fluttered, her insides tightened, and a flash of heat burst through her.

  He was slipping his finger a little deeper each time it came back to center…a little deeper…a little firmer…a little more persistent. She stared up into his eyes. They were kind, concerned and observant of every nuance of emotion in her features. For a second, his hand seemed to falter, as if he wasn’t sure of himself.

  She quickly grabbed his wrist. “Please…don’t stop, Matt. I won’t change my mind.”

  With a nod he slipped his finger just a fraction of an inch into her. It felt tight but not painful. “Just another minute,” he leaned down to whisper into her ear then stayed low over her. “Hold on to me.”

  She gripped his shoulders, and felt a second finger press close to the first, then move against the tightness. There was a bright burst of sensation that moved so quickly past discomfort it didn’t seem important. Slowly, with great gentleness, Matt moved his fingers within her, bringing lovely, healing warmth, tingles of a sort she’d never felt before, waves of pleasure so brilliant and potent she could only hold on to his muscled shoulders, now glistening with sweat, and let him lift her higher into a place she’d never been.

  She was so swept away by the feelings he was bringing to her, she hardly was aware of his moving momentarily to reach for protection. Then she felt him shift his weight above her, bring himself between her thighs, and enter the swollen, moist passage. It became a new dance. With a feeling that her partner had fully mastered each step. And they rose and fell together until the room spun and her body felt as if it were consumed by flames. At last Matt lifted himself above her and groaned with primal satisfaction, arching his back and pressing fully within her. He had been right. He fit. All of him. Much to her delight.

  Eight

  Matt woke and it was still dark outside. He turned his head to look at Abby, hugging a pillow, turned on her side away from him. Reaching over he lifted a strand of hair covering her eyes. She sighed softly.

  “Come,” he whispered. “Come to me.”

  She shifted sleepily, moving as if in a dream, shoving the pillow away and rolling toward him, her eyes still closed. Her cheek rested on his chest, her right leg hooked over his hip. Closing his arms around her protectively, he knew that nothing about this night could be bad. She had been perfect, and he had only faltered that once when he suddenly feared letting her down.

  The doubts that had plagued him earlier in the evening were miraculously gone. Nothing much seemed to matter except being close to Abby. And two people couldn’t get much closer. Her skin felt flushed, alive, soft against the muscle and sinew of his body. The image of flesh on flesh drew itself out, tempting him again.

  “You awake, Ab?” he whispered, feeling the urge again, needing to feed his hunger for her. They had already made love twice. Once because there had been work to be done. The second time because she had asked, shyly but with a serious gleam in her eyes he found charming and irresistible. He had enthusiastically obliged.

  “Sleeping,” she murmured. The corners of her lips turned up. “Go away.”

  “Lots of time for laziness tomorrow.” He gently rolled her to her other side, tucking her bottom against him as he moved onto his side. Slipping his arms around her from behind, he buried his face in her whisper-soft hair and fondled her breasts until he sensed from her pleased wriggles that she was fully awake and eager for another lesson.

  “Something new?” she asked breathily.

  “If you like.”

  She turned her head against the pillow, looking back over her shoulder at him and stretched up to kiss the underside of his whiskery chin. “I like.” Her voice was trusting, eager, and happy—and worked like magic on his body. He felt full against her plush little bottom. When he moved within the familiar moist feminine cove, she pressed back against him and reached her climax so quickly he didn’t have to wait for his own.

  The days that followed spun themselves out like pink cotton candy for Abby. During the past three weeks, they’d spent long hours in bed, touching each other, talking, laughing, making love. She learned ways to arouse him almost instantly. She discovered the few places he didn’t like to be touched and many more he did. Before they had become intimate, nearly all they talked about and nearly all Matt did was involved in Smythe International. Now he avoided mention of business. All he wanted to do was talk about her, about them, about the music of the happy little tree frogs and which flowers had bloomed in the garden that day.

  “My favorites are the hibiscus,” Abby said with a sigh. “The ultimate tropical flower—fiery orange, blazing red. Huge, plump blooms and tongues of gold.”

  “They sacrifice long lives for drama,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Did you know that each blossom lasts only one day?”

  She looked up at him from where she lay against his chest. “Really?”

  “Really. That’s all the time they have.”

  “How sad.” She twirled a finger through short hairs in the center of his stomach. She was about to say that people were like that, sometimes. Some living long, unremarkable lives, while others lit up the world with a brief blaze of glory. Then there were relationships. Some were strong and lasting, but to the observer might seem unexciting. Other couples loved with explosive passion that didn’t last.

  Was that what she and Matt were? Participants in a brief affair? One-day bloomers?

  The ringing of the telephone interrupted thoughts that had become suddenly troubling.

  “I’ll get it,” she said, glad for something to distract her.

  “Let me know if it’s anything important. We should get up and go outside sometime today.” He winked at her in passing on his way into the bathroom.

  Abby heard the shower turn on as she picked up the phone.

  It was Paula, calling from Chicago. “For days and days I’ve left messages,” she complained as soon as she heard a live voice.

  Abby smiled secretively. “Sorry. Things have been busy here.”

  “I swear, that man can make work for himself even in paradise. Is he eating? Is he getting any sleep?”

  She sounded like a typical mother, worrying over her college-age son.

  “His appetite is just fine.” Abby had to stop herself from adding: And he’s eating well, too. A long band of silence came to Abby across the line. “Paula, you still there?”

  “Sweet Lord in Heaven, save us all.”

  “What?”

  “He’s seduced you, hasn’t he?” the older woman groaned. “I’ll kill him.”

  “Now, Paula,” Abby said soothingly. “Don’t be upset. He’s being perfectly wonderful.”

  “You don’t know him like I do. When he’s being perfectly wonderful, he’s a danger to the entire female gender.”

  “Believe me, he hasn’t taken advantage of me.”

  “He wouldn’t mean to,” Paula insisted. “He never means any harm. But he’ll hit the wall and it will all get too personal for him. He can’t handle forever, darling. He’ll break it off as soon as things get serious.” She lowered her voice as if she feared, all the way from Chicago, her voice might be heard by her employer. “He tell you about his parents?”

  Abby straightened defensively. “Yes.”

  “Matthew won’t risk being left behind again.”

  Abby wanted to explain that there were no expectations on either side. She wanted to tell Paula that all Matt was doing was guiding her through a challenging time in her life. He was the teacher, she the student. Along the way, he was bringing her immense joy.

  But she knew in her heart that she’d stopped thinking about their arrangement in such simple terms. A telling silence stretched between the two women.

  At last, Paula’s voice came again. “It’s too late, isn’t it? You’ve fallen in love with him.”

  Abby let out a brittle laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Barely a heartbeat passed before Paula murmured, “Abiga
il, I’m so sorry.”

  Abby closed her eyes and clutched the receiver. Was it that obvious? “I’ll be all right. Really.”

  “The best thing you can do is get out while you can, dear. I don’t want to lose you. I like working with you. But it’s going to be hell for you, seeing him every day after it’s been like this between the two of you.”

  “Maybe he won’t run this time,” Abby said weakly.

  “Maybe he’ll chuck being an entrepreneur and take up knitting.” There was a rustling sound from the other end, as if Paula was shuffling papers. “He works like a maniac for a reason. It’s his way of shutting down his emotions. He can’t deal with loving a woman. He told me, once, he could still remember his mother’s face. He remembers her kissing him goodbye then picking up a suitcase and walking away from him and his brothers.”

  “But I’d never leave him,” Abby protested. “Not if he wanted me to stay. I’d never hurt him.”

  “Are you sure?” Paula asked gently. “What if someone from your past came back into your life?”

  Abby frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “A man called yesterday. Left a message for you to call him. A Mr. Wooten?”

  Abby gasped. “Richard?” The last time she’d seen her fiancé, he had been walking out of her life, with energy. I can’t take the chance of marrying a frigid woman.

  For the first time since they’d broken up, the mention of his name didn’t wrench her heart out of her chest. She felt nothing. Another man possessed her, heart and soul. She was in love with Matt.

  “Did you tell him I was out of the country?”

  “I did, but he was insistent. Said he was your fiancé.”

  “Not anymore he isn’t,” she stated briskly. “That was finished more than a year ago.”

  “Maybe not for him.”

  Now that was a disturbing thought. “What he wants no longer matters,” Abby said.

  “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I told the man you’d call him when you could, but do as you like. Now, I need to talk to that wonderful boss of ours.” Her sarcasm wasn’t subtle.