A Taste of You (17 page)

“Catherine, are you making me stand in the hallway?”

I swung the door open. “Fine. Come in.”

He did, and I closed the door behind him. He set the mysterious bag on the small hall table. I already knew what would happen. There was no way our relationship could work and he was here to end it with me. Last night I’d laid it out—my heavy, depressing stuff. And he’d bolted. That was exactly why I’d waited to say anything. It was why I didn’t talk about it with anyone, why I hadn’t pursued other relationships. It was too much to deal with. I mean, I’d been a widow at twenty-two. That wasn’t fun or sexy.

“I know why you’re here.” I began before he could. “I know this is never going to work between us. It’s been good to know you, William.”

I waited for him to say something, to turn back toward the door or protest weakly, but he simply stared, his eyes a stormy grey. “What the
fuck
are you talking about?”

“I’m making it easy. We can’t see each other anymore. It’s been fun, but it’s over. I’m fine with that.”

William crossed his arms over his chest. “Catherine, you’re not getting away from me that easily. We belong together. You’re mine. Nothing can change that.”

I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t help but think he hadn’t got it yet. “You’re wrong. What I told you last night changes everything. I was someone else’s first, William. There’s a part of me that belongs to him. Always. That’s never going to change.”

William was quiet for a long moment. With his arms crossed over his chest and his expression stern, he looked like a warrior king contemplating his next battle. Finally, I saw the flicker of a decision in his eyes. I closed my own, knowing this was good-bye, willing it not to hurt.

“And I never want those circumstances of your life to change, Catherine,” he said quietly. I opened my eyes.

“It was what brought you to me.” He took my cold hands in his warm ones. “It kills me that you’ve lived through something like that.” His voice hitched, and I knew he meant every word. He ached for me as only someone who had his heart broken could. He swallowed, regained his composure, and I watched as the broken little boy he’d buried was supplanted by the controlled man he’d become. “But here, now, it doesn’t matter. It’s in the past and you have a future ahead. I’m your future.” He squeezed my hands.

Unbidden, the sting of tears burned my eyes. I felt the wetness on my cheeks and swiped it away. “I saw the way you looked at me after I told you. And it was different between us last night. I could feel it. I know you felt it too.”

He sighed. “I could have handled the situation better.” That was as close to an apology as I was likely to get. He raked a hand through his hair. “But Catherine, you have to cut me slack. I had no idea.”

The tears were still flowing, and I knew my nose would start running. Then I’d look really great. “I thought you’d understand because of your parents… I thought—” I broke off when the warmth in his eyes turned to ice. He stood deathly still, and the room went silent. From the corner of my eye, I saw Laird, sleeping on his doggie bed by the window, raise his head at the sudden tension.

“I do understand, Catherine.” His voice was hard and level. He was fighting the return of the vulnerable boy. There was no emotion in his tone whatsoever. “I don’t talk about my parents or my brother. Ever.”

Okay. I could respect that, but it meant another facet of William Lambourne that would remain a mystery. “You weren’t here this morning,” I said.

William’s posture relaxed. “Is that what this is about? You woke up alone?” He took my hands again and pulled me close. “I hit the gym at four-thirty every morning. I didn’t want to wake you, though it was tempting with your warm, naked body pressed against mine.”

I frowned. “I thought—”

“That’s the problem. You think too much.” He put his arms around me and pulled me close, kissing me twice. “I told you before, you need to trust us. This is new to me too. I’ve never done this before, and I don’t do sleepovers.”

I blinked. Now, I was the one taken off-guard. He’d never spent the night with a woman before me?

“But I’m willing to try…for you.”

I snuggled into him. It felt good to be in his arms again. “Thank you.”

“So,” he said after a moment. “Is this a fashion statement, or are you working?”

I laughed. I’d forgotten about the apron and the ratty clothes. I must have looked like a street urchin with my red nose, my stained clothes, and my hair a rat’s nest on top of my head.

“I’ll show you.” I took his hand and led him to the pantry, but not before he grabbed the bag off the table. “This needs to go in the fridge.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Dark milk chocolate ice cream and a pint of fresh strawberries. I thought we might try cold chocolate this time. We’ve already done melted.” His eyes twinkled mischievously, and I knew he was thinking about the
pain au chocolate
and our first time on my kitchen floor. “First I want to see what you’re working on.”

He was familiar with my kitchen and must have known I’d the pantry into a darkroom. I doubted he approved, but it wasn’t like I needed it to store food. Outside the door, I said, “Wait until I close the door before you move the curtain.”

We squeezed inside, and I closed the door then pulled him into my workspace. It was small, but I didn’t need a large area. Since I was working with black-and-white film, I had a red safelight on, which illuminated the various developing trays, my Beseler enlarger, and the small sink and rinsing tub I’d installed. William headed for the drying racks, where I’d been using tongs to transfer prints from the rinsing tub. I’d taken so many shots on Sunday that I’d hung some on a clothesline.

William put his hands behind his back and studied them. “Where were these taken?” he asked.

“North Shore—Lake Forest.”

He smiled. “Looked familiar.” He examined them individually, taking his time and really looking. “I love them.”

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath, waiting for his approval, until that moment.

“You captured the starkness of winter.” He gestured to a shot of a bare tree, its branches jutting to the sky like a skeleton. “This one, in particular, is spectacular. You have an amazing eye.” He looked at me, and I saw frank appreciation in his eyes. “Have you always worked with still life?”

“No,” I said. “I started as a sports photographer. I took pictures of surfers. I was somewhat well-known.” I ducked my head. I was seriously understating my fame.

“You used to surf?”

I glanced up. William frowned in the concerned way I recognized. “I’ve surfed all my life, practically since I could walk.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” he asked, his frown deepening.

“That’s part of the thrill,” I said with a grin.

He made a noncommittal sound, and I could tell I’d thrown him. He thought he’d known me, but he didn’t know everything. He didn’t know reckless, wild Cat Ryder.

“These are a far cry from surf photos,” he said, looking at the shots of Lake Forest again. “You must have been feeling really down when you took these.”

“It was a difficult day. Taking the photos helped me work it out.”

“From now on,” he said, pulling me into his arms, “
I’ll
help you work it out.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted, desperately, for that to be true. William still studied the prints. “What kind of camera did you use?”

I reached for my Leica. “This one. It’s a vintage Leica M3.”

He took the camera, turned it over and examined it. “Impressive. Classics can’t be improved upon.” He lifted it, aimed it at me, and shot a couple pictures. I laughed at the novelty of in front ofthe camera. “Beautiful,” he said as I stuck out my tongue. “Now, the two of us.” He leaned beside me, held the camera up, and took one of us. “This is a nice camera.”

“Jace gave it to me.” I tensed when I said it, and the room grew quiet. William put a finger under my chin and notched my head up.

“It’s okay, Catherine. You can talk about him. He was part of your life. You don’t have to hide your life from me.”

The relief I felt was amazing, as though a huge boulder had been removed from my shoulders. He really was okay with me being a widow. It wasn’t his words but the look in his eyes that let me know he meant every word. I wanted to tell him he didn’t need to hide his life either, and that included talking about his brother and his parents. But I didn’t want the spoil the moment.

“It was a wedding present,” I said as he handed the camera back.

“He knew you well.”

“Yes.” I remembered the first time I’d held the camera. Jace and I were still in our wedding clothes. We were slightly drunk and had stumbled, kissing and laughing, into our honeymoon suite. And then Jace had produced a small, badly wrapped gift. It was the Leica.

I looked at William, so different from Jace. Jace had been compact and athletic, a true California boy with a surfer tan, an easy smile, sun-bleached blond hair, and clear blue eyes. William was tall and dark. He wasn’t tan, but his complexion was naturally bronze. He had thick curly hair and stormy eyes I loved. It wasn’t just looks where the men differed. Their personalities were opposite as well. Jace had been fun-loving, open, reckless, and lazy when it came to anything other than surfing. William… well, I was still figuring William out.

I lifted my Leica, thinking it might reveal his secrets. I snapped a picture, then another. William didn’t pose for the camera. He watched me, and as he watched me, his expression and his eyes changed.

Finally, he took the camera from my hands, set it on a small worktable, and held my face in his hands. His lips brushed mine, teasing me before he pressed his mouth sweetly to mine. I sighed into his mouth as our lips slid together, and our tongues met in a lazy roll. He nipped at my lips, and I sucked his tongue, our kiss growing hotter and passionate. His arms came around me, holding me close, stroking me.

We broke from the kiss, and his hands stripped me of the apron and pushed me against the wall. A few trays and tongs I wasn’t using clattered to the floor, but we ignored them. I slid my hands under William’s suit coat, pushing it off his shoulders, eager to get under his shirt, to feel his skin against mine. He was eager too. He had his hands under my shirt, tracing my sides and brushing tantalizing strokes over my breasts and hardening nipples. I fumbled with his tie, and he paused to rip it off then unbuttoned his shirt. I closed my mouth on his warm, hard chest, raking my fingers down the skin, now tinged with red from the lamp, until I reached his leather belt and the button of his trousers. His erection strained against the expensive wool, and I ran my hand over him.

“What you do to me,” he murmured.

“Let me do more,” I said, wanting to show him how much I cared. “Let me pleasure you.” Without waiting for his answer, I ran my hand along that length of his hardness, and through the fabric, I felt him pulse beneath my touch. His reaction emboldened me. I wrapped my hand around him, squeezing gently, and he hissed in a breath.

“What are you doing to me?”

I smiled. “What would you like me to do?”

He shook his head as though resigned, but he wore a wicked smile. “That’s a difficult question to answer when my cock is in your hand. The possibilities are endless.”

I stroked him again, slowly, teasing him, building the need I recognized. He closed his eyes briefly. “God, woman, you’re killing me.”

I smiled. That was how I always felt with him, and it was the feeling I wanted to duplicate. I noticed he didn’t resist.

“Would you like it if I put my mouth on you, William?” I said, my voice deep and sexy.

He’d said the same to me at Willowgrass, and by the way his eyes widened for a moment, I knew he remembered.

“Would you like that, William? Do you want my lips wrapped around you?”

Desire flared hot in his eyes. I had thought they were stormy before, but now, they were raging.

“That’s exactly what I want, Catherine.”

I took him by the shoulder and changed places, pushing him against the wall of shelves. My hands shook as I danced my fingers up his thighs to release the button of his trousers, and then I pulled the zipper down. It took little to free him. Seeing his hard, erect penis jutting from between his legs gave me a moment’s pause. He was gorgeous, veined and imperial. I slid my hand over the velvet tip and down the thick, impressive length. I pulled my hand back up and down again, watching his face. He gave nothing away, his gaze locked on mine. His skin was hot like molten steel, and I liked how his erection jumped when I wrapped my hand around his tip and squeezed lightly.

Keeping my gaze locked with his, I fell to my knees, bent, and touched my tongue to the head. His eyes widened when I swirled my tongue around him. He was burning. His skin was sleek. I forced myself to go slow. I wanted to lick every inch, find the sensitive spots and exploit them. I licked my way to the root and back up, taking the head into my mouth and sucking.

“Catherine.” William’s hands clenched, and he clutched the shelves behind him. I smiled and sucked again, then ran my tongue up and down, teasing him, making him anticipate release. I fluttered my tongue over him then took him in my mouth again. He groaned, and I moved faster, fisting my hand around his shaft and sliding my hand in tandem with my mouth.

The more I slid him in and out of my mouth, the more aroused I became. My nipples were ultrasensitive as they pushed against the fabric of my sweatshirt, and my sex was wet and swollen with need. I pushed my own need aside and sucked him, alternately greedy and gentle then punishing.

I reached down to cup his balls, feeling their heaviness. His fingers dug into the metal shelves, and I knew he was exerting tremendous control. I wanted to see him lose control. I looked at him, allowing him to see my desire as I slid him in and out of my mouth.

“You’re killing me,” he said again, and this time his voice sounded strained. I looked down and saw the bead of pre-cum on his tip. With a finger, I slicked it off and tasted him. Then I licked and teased and took him as far as I could. He gave a slight moan, and I felt him pulse and tighten and then his release filled my mouth and slid down my throat, sweet and thick.