Experiment In Love (9 page)

The answer was there — all he had to do was say it. His mouth clamped shut He couldn’t, he wouldn’t take the chance. There would only be pain in it—for both of them.

He rubbed the back of his now-stiff neck, stopping to stare out the window. Then he came to a decision.

He would see her through this difficult time, move her into the townhouse and set up the lease with his lawyer so that it would all be aboveboard. Then, slowly, he would bow out of her life for both their sakes.
If, while he was helping her rearrange her life, she happened to feel like sharing her bed with him…then fine. If not, then he would take cold showers, and then find someone else. There was always another willing woman in the wings.

With that decision made and his life once more in order and under control, he should have felt better. Instead he felt only a tearing emptiness when he thought of Victoria’s bright smile, her trusting tears, her quick mind and the joy he had felt in sharing her bed. What he needed, he thought, laughing mirthlessly was an icy-cold shower — now.

***

Victoria awoke quickly, immediately knowing where she was and why she was there. She sat up on the edge of the bed, placing both feet on the deep pile of the carpeting and running her soles across it, loving the feeling of the plush softness. It reminded her of home, growing up, only without the heavy burdens that life had handed a young girl.

She glanced around, wondering how long she had slept. She wasn’t too worried about it, though. In fact, she felt better than she had felt in a long time.

Kurt had done that for her. Kurt had rearranged her life for her, given her a hiatus from decision making, and asked nothing in return. Well, she thought again,
demanded
nothing in return. He had asked for plenty, but asking wasn’t the same as expecting. And because he didn’t expect, she could give — freely, wondrously, totally. There were no scorecards, no tallies to keep. She didn’t owe him her time or her life or her body. And that was exactly the way she wanted it. It was strange how much of a burden two people could make out of that thing called love. When they loved they also automatically expected and demanded. She knew, had known since yesterday that she loved Kurt Morgan. But she also knew that she didn’t have to feel anything for him. She just did.

The sound of rushing water coming from his private bathroom and she knew Kurt must be taking a shower. She almost bounced into his room and opened the bathroom door.

“Kurt?” she called above the sound of the water.

“I’ll be out in a minute, Victoria.” His voice was muffled by the noise.

“May I join you?” she teased, suddenly so lighthearted that she wanted to hug herself...or him.

“No! I’ll be there in just a minute. Wait outside!”

She could see him through the milky glass of the door. He was magnificent “I think I’ll join you after all,” she said, opening the shower door with a click. But his hand snaked out and pulled it shut, again keeping her on the other side.

“Stop it, Vicky! How much do you think I can take?” he shouted, at the end of his temper.

“Not much more, I hope.” She chuckled, not at all dismayed by his anger. “Why can’t I join you?” She had to share her love with him, though she couldn’t bring herself to speak of it. Why couldn’t he see that?

“Don’t tease.” His voice was gruff with emotion, his anger dissolving as he opened the door a crack and stared down at her, his heart tightening at what his eyes saw.

The laughter left her voice. “I’m not teasing, Kurt.” She pulled the door completely open and stepped in, her T-shirt and panties still covering her.

“Don’t Victoria! You’ll get wet!”

She chuckled softly. “Isn’t that what showers are for?” she asked, taking the bar of soap from his hand and turning him around.

She rubbed in a circle, making a wealth of lather on his back, her hand occasionally making a teasing foray down his spine to rest at the base of his trim hips and beautifully muscled buttocks before once more slipping up his broad back to pay
attention to his shoulders. Her senses became even more heightened to his body, loving the shape, the texture of his skin, the feel of muscles tensing and releasing as she went over and over a spot. Silent, he stood perfectly still, his head tilted so that the water cascaded down his neck and shoulders.

“Turn around,” she ordered huskily and he faced her, emitting a low groan from deep in his throat as he stared at her. The warm water had molded the thin fabric of her shirt to the uplifted tilt of her firmly peaked breasts.

“Don’t you ever wear a bra?” he ground out hoarsely.

“Not if I can help it.” She grinned slowly and glanced at him through her lashes. “Most men don’t notice.”

“I noticed. I noticed the first time I saw you.” One hand came up and gently cupped her breast before reaching to her shirt hem and tugging it over her head.

Her long hair turned darker in the water, her head held proudly as she watched him devour her with his eyes.

All she had left were her panties. His hands moved and within moments he was throwing them over the shower door.

He leaned against the far wall. He was still afraid she was teasing and didn’t realize what she was promising. She was a free spirit, an elusive wraith. “Do you know what you’re doing, Victoria?”

An impish grin lit her face. “To you?” She looked down at his erection. “Yes. I think that’s fairly obvious.”

One hand came up to soap his chest, her other hand following to feel the strength of sinew and muscles, reveling in the symmetrical masculinity of his body. He was brawny and tall and tough. But he was also kind and gentle and sweet. He was a mass of wonderful contradictions.

“Men are so different.” She spoke her thoughts out loud.

“Women are different.” he corrected in a low, raspy tone.
“You, most of all.” He still didn’t reach out to touch her. It was pure tension waiting for her warmth to spread through him, her need for him to grow stronger.

Her gaze proved her senses were tuned to him, to every nuance of words, breath, and body. Her insides trembled in anticipation of his fingertips on her skin. “Do you want to make love to me?” Her honest eyes locked with his, willing him to respond.

“Yes.” His voice was so low that it broke.

“Then why are you waiting?”

He smiled, slow and sensuous. “My turn. Give me the soap.”

He began at her throat, massaging the sides of her neck, his thumb finding the small hollow where her quaking pulse beat. His finger placed a stray strand of hair carefully behind her ear and then began on her slim shoulders, under her arms, down her arms to her wrists, palms and then each finger. He paid careful attention to each minute part of her, soaping creamy skin, holding her arm under the warm jet of water,
then soaping another area. His hands caressed her in an almost impersonal way, but his heated gaze told her of his ultimate goal.

Her breasts were wetted one at a time. He paid particular attention to the undersides, cupping and touching and teasing them with the softness of a breath.

Her eyes never left his face, seeing his thoughts of things to come flit across his features. His gaze narrowed, never leaving her. She stood obediently still, waiting for him to finish his task while praying it would be a long while.

His hands traveled to her waist, then hips, the soap lathering to
a creamy rich foam. Ever so slowly he lathered her long legs, caressing, stroking, teasing as he went, and an urgency built in her until she could hardly get enough air. The blood of excitement pounded in her head, shutting out the sound of the hissing water.

“Now?” she questioned, her voice so low she could hardly hear herself, her eyes begging him for relief.

“Wait,” he ordered softly, continuing on his chosen path.

He bent down, his face level with her slim waist, lathering the backs of her knees, her calves. Then he lifted one foot and soaped it. He followed the same pattern he had performed on her hands and arms, his touch now an agonizingly painful pleasure. His hands were slow, teasing, tempting, and relishing each place he touched. He was igniting fires in places she didn’t know could feel that heated.

When he finished he straightened up and stared at her, a grim smile on his mouth.

“Rinse off,” he commanded in a low, burlap-rough voice, and she automatically took a step forward into the water’s spray and closer to him. His head tilted down, his chocolate-brown eyes never leaving her face, watching her reaction to his tantalizingly intimate touch.

She moaned, a primitive, animal sound that came from deep within, and still the brown velvety softness of his eyes kept her glued to the spot. Her breathing became short, whispery, her face flushed from his gentle yet persistent efforts. Her mind was a spinning vortex of feelings, with heat flooding her body until she thought she was on fire. And still he continued. His knowing hands crept down and then up her slim legs to softly knead her buttocks, slippery with the clean-scented soap and water, then drifted on, only to linger on another part of her flesh. Silken touches, stroking everywhere, made her aware of the deep stirrings he created to bring her closer to the tall cliffs of ecstasy waiting just beyond the very next touch. A persistent tingling poured through her veins, warmth rushing all through her, vibrating with its intensity while turning her bones to golden liquid honey. Her eyes grew wide with wonder, her lips softening into a small secret smile as she watched him kneel before her, then felt him touch her, taste her.

Then suddenly she could take no more. “Kurt!” she cried. And he stood and held her upright with one powerful arm. The other softly and steadily stroking, touching her intimate folds as she swayed and swirled through a mist of unbelievable rainbow colors and crashing sounds.

Her nails embedded in his shoulders, her head lolled forward as she caught her breath. He held her to his lean tanned body, her head resting on his broad chest as her breathing slowed from the heaven he had created just for her. His heart still beat a double-time tattoo in her ear. Desire was so strong it still beat like a drum inside him.

She arched her back and looked up into his loving face. “Your turn,” she whispered.

“Our turn,” he stated softly. “But first I get to dry you off.”

When they entered the bedroom she saw that the drapes were open to let the room fill with a spectacularly colored sunset. The huge bed was soft but firm. The sheets were silken and slippery. Victoria loved it. She watched Kurt walk across the carpet toward her and marveled at his magnificent build. At least for a while he was hers, and nothing made her world as complete as this man could.

Bodies close, skin touching skin, tasting, feeling, sensing, being. It was marvelous. The sound coming from deep in his throat as he reached the height he’d been craving was worth everything to Victoria.

Sated and completely content, Kurt curled Victoria to him, her small trim hips cupped in front of his, his hands staking proprietary claim to her breasts. He stared down at her still dampened hair, marveling at this wonderful, giving woman who enjoyed pleasing him as much as he did her, and thanked fate for bringing them together. His eyes were still shining in wonder as he slowly closed them and relaxed against her. They slept the late afternoon sun away.

About an hour later, Victoria opened her eyes and focused on Kurt’s face in repose. She longed to stroke his chin, his face, his sleeping eyelids. She wanted to thank him. But most of all she wanted to tell him of her love.

She smiled to herself, remembering the tender kisses and giving hands that had explored her body.

He must certainly feel something for her or he never would have become involved with her as deeply as he was. No man disrupted his orderly way of life without reason. She sensed that no matter how many mistresses, past or present, he had known, he had opened himself to none of them as he had to her. Or she was day-dreaming and would find out how wrong she was later? Let the truth come, but not now...

She frowned. But if he didn’t love her, what was his reason? He had once said that making love and being in love weren’t the same things. He could do one but not the other. Was he only feeling sorry for her? Was he only seeking sexual release and she was the handy one at that moment? That idea brought a searing pain to her breast and she resolutely pushed her mind away from that thought.

She eased her slim form from under his arm and sat up, carefully swinging her feet to the floor. She’d find her overnight case and clean up before waking him. As she came around the bed to Kurt’s side she leaned down and placed a light kiss on his brow, wishing him well until she returned.

Her case was in her bathroom. One pair of jeans and another shirt, both dry, and a meager assortment of cosmetics were all she had brought. Suddenly she wished she had the glamorous accouterments other women used to make
themselves beautiful for their men. She wanted to look as wonderful outside as she felt inside. After giving her long hair a good brushing, then braiding it in a long rope down her back to keep it from getting unruly, she applied mascara to her lashes and clear gloss to her lips. That was the best she was capable of doing.

When she was done she simply sat and thought while staring out at the surf hitting rocks and spraying the air.  She loved him, but what did that mean? Her love was so confusing, leaving her up in the clouds one minute, cast down to below-ground the next. He was so frightening in the way he took charge of her life. And she, after the horror of her parents’ relationship, was terrified of trusting. She loved him, but
when all was said and done, she didn’t want to. Even if he loved her, or thought he did, it could make no difference to the future. In the end she would be alone.