Forbidden (8 page)

“Did you peek?” He nodded toward the blue wrapped package.

“No.” She raised her chin, pretending to be offended. It had been tempting.
Really tempting
.

“You wanted to, though, didn’t you?” he teased.

She laughed and shrugged. “I did, and you
knew
I would want to.” She couldn’t help but smile.

“Go on, open it.” He waited for her to move.

Kat rose from the bed and approached the box. Her hands hesitated inches from the black bow.

“If I open this, there are no strings attached, right?” She didn’t want to be a woman who took gifts from a man in exchange for…well…sex. Even if she might desperately want to have sex with him, she didn’t want it to be out of obligation.

“No strings. I wanted to get this for you, from one collector to another.” He seemed sincere, but it was impossible not to notice when Tristan picked up the ribbon and wrapped it around one fist, tugging it tight against his skin as though he were testing it as a way to bind something or someone…like her. But he didn’t. He played with the ribbon, spooling it around his fingers, the silk whispering against his skin.

When he cleared his throat, she came back to herself with a little shake and unwrapped the box. As she lifted the lid, she gasped and stepped back.

Dropped from the Clouds
was nestled in the tissue paper, the gilded balloon on the cover gleaming in the dim light from the desk lamp.

“Oh my God,” Kat whispered, then her eyes flew to his. “This is the one from G. David’s bookshop, isn’t it?” She’d known he’d bought it, but she still hadn’t been prepared for him to actually give it to her.

“How did you know?” One dark brow arched up.

With a quick swallow, she reached into the box for the book, almost afraid to touch it.

“My friend heard they’d received an order for the book. I couldn’t resist looking, so I went to the shop this morning. I asked the clerk if you bought it. She sort of hinted that you did, without actually saying it.” Her head spun when she remembered the price tag. “Tristan, this cost more than fifteen hundred dollars. I can’t accept anything that expensive.” She reached for the box lid, but he dropped the ribbon and caught her wrist.

“Don’t think of the money. Consider it a gift from one enthusiast to another.”

“You collect antique books?” she asked, stunned. He didn’t seem the type, but at this point, she really didn’t know him at all, did she?

“Not books, maps. I like old ones. G. David’s has an excellent cartography selection in their rare book room. I enjoy books, of course, but maps are my obsession.” His eyes were so warm, like the waters in Bermuda.

Her father had taken her there for a few months when she was twelve. The hot beaches, the warm water, a sense of endless heaven. In that moment, Tristan’s gaze, so hot and tender, filled her with that rare sense of wonder. How could one man’s gaze have the same effect as an island paradise?

“Why do you like maps?” she asked softly.

He picked up the leather belt and walked over to the bed. The little twirl in the air he made with his belt was flirtatious, sexy, and yet almost funny.

“Tie me up, darling, and I’ll spill all my secrets.”

A
ll of your secrets?” Kat approached Tristan grinning. “Dare I ask what
sort
of secrets you have to spill?”

“Only the best kind of secrets.” He sat down on the edge of her bed and she couldn’t resist coming a few steps closer.

“That’s not an answer. What kind of secrets? Don’t hold out on me, Kingsley,” she challenged, using his last name in the way she’d seen the local boys at Cambridge tease each other.

“Oh, Kingsley, is it? Call me Tristan, and I’ll tell you
anything
you want.”

“Anything?” She put her finger to her chin and pretended to contemplate that.

“Anything,” he promised, his eyes blazing with that intensity that sent showers of invisible sparks rippling beneath her skin.

“How about a request instead?” she asked.

“Very well, name it.” Again, he had that kingly air about him, but it didn’t frustrate her as it had earlier. She was coming to understand him, this enigma of a man. Beneath the expensive clothes and that gorgeous body, there was a man who had been raised to be a leader among men. It awed her, and a flutter of excitement and nervousness filled her stomach.

“Could I see your signet ring?”

His brows raised, but he wordlessly removed his ring from his left little finger and dropped it into her outstretched palm. Kat studied the ring. Two unicorns arched over a shield containing three doves and a harp. It was such a small engraving on the ring, but she could still make it out.

“What’s it like…being titled? I mean—” she fumbled for the right words “—knowing that someday you’ll be the Earl of Pembroke?” She placed the ring back on his open palm.

A contemplative silence kept him quiet for a moment as he slid the ring back on his finger, his head bowed as he sighed. When he looked at her again, she saw an ancient seriousness in his eyes that filled her with sadness. It was a look of someone trapped by knowing that their life held a certain amount of obstacles before them, ones they couldn’t avoid. An acceptance of an inevitability.

“It weighs heavy upon the heart,” he replied and tapped his chest with a closed fist. It reminded her of the old movies she’d watched with her father where knights saluted their kings before rushing into battle on their gallant white chargers.

“I’m sorry.” She hated that he felt that way, she couldn’t begin to imagine the duties, the expectations, the demands of that life. It was so far removed from her own.

Tristan rolled his shoulders in a loose gesture. “It isn’t your fault.” A smile kissed the corners of his lips. “You Americans are so delightful, always apologizing for things out of your control.” He reached up and curled his fingers around her hand, squeezing it before he let go.

“Now, quit distracting me, I’m trying to get into your bed, you little minx.”

“Minx?” Now she couldn’t stop the giggles. Only someone like him would call a woman a minx. And she loved it.

He bent over to untie the laces of his boots and removed them. Then he placed his wrist against the metal railing and curled a finger from his other hand at her to come closer. The simple action flushed her entire body with heat. What would it be like to have him beckoning her to bed when they were both naked and—

“You’ll have to wrap securely it, since I can’t do it one-handed.” He waited for her to cross the last few feet of space that separated them.

Kat leaned down and circled the belt around the metal railing halfway down the bed. It wouldn’t be too uncomfortable for him to lie on the bed with his hand tied by his upper thigh.

“Okay, done.” She stepped back.

Tristan gave a few quick hard jerks on the leather and then looked up at her. He had some mobility in his body, but because of his wrist he couldn’t get away from the bed. They were only a few feet apart, and he was partially restrained, yet she still felt like he was the one in control. It disturbed and excited her.

“I’m at your mercy, Kat, darling, whatever will you do with me?”

His soft British accent had devastating consequences to her libido. She clenched her thighs together and sucked in a breath, trying to focus and not just jump his bones like her body was screaming to do.

“‘Do with you’? Where to start?” She tapped her chin with a finger, a gleeful smile on her lips. Shocked by her playfulness, his lips parted and his eyes darkened.

“Remember, darling, I’ve only got so much control,” he warned, a wolfish expression making him that much more dangerous…to her innocence.

“Hmmm, in that case, I want you to promise me you won’t snore, I can’t stand that,” she said with a giggle.

“That I can promise. No snoring,” he vowed with a humorous false solemnity.

“Good. Do you need anything, like a glass of water? An extra pillow?” Kat eyed the narrow bed, trying to picture how they would share it.

I guess we’ll get friendly real fast.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“All I need is for you to lie down beside me so we can talk.” He patted the bed with his free hand.

Kat swallowed and forced herself to move. She turned off all of the lights except for the lamp on her nightstand before she turned back to face him.

Tristan had stolen one of her two pillows and was lying back, his free hand propped behind his head in a relaxed pose. He had just enough mobility to achieve that. And he looked…sinfully tempting. His long, lean, muscled body, stretched out on her bed beneath the covers, reminded her of a jaguar lounging on the branch of a tree.

“Are we really doing this?” Hope colored her tone, and she prayed she didn’t sound silly by how excited she was at sharing a bed with him.

“I want you, Kat. If you and I need to get to know each other first for you to trust me, then I’m game for that. The question is, are you brave enough to get to know me?”

His voice echoed in her head.
I’ll tell you all my secrets.
What sort of secrets could someone like Tristan have?

She walked over to the empty side of the little bed and pulled back the covers, sliding underneath them. She’d never been this close to any man, not even Ben. The idea of Tristan sleeping beside her the whole night made her nervous, but she felt safe, too. And that had nothing to do with him being half tied up.

Tristan remained on his back, free arm behind his head. “Ask me anything, Kat.” He stared up at the ceiling, as though awaiting some grand interrogation.

She snuggled deeper into her bed, and into him. The bed was tiny and just big enough for the two of them if they touched shoulder to feet. She tried to resist the urge to get too close, but it was impossible. Kat finally surrendered to his warmth and leaned into his body while she ran through a list of questions in her head.

“Why do you like old maps?”

He chuckled, then blew out a slow breath before speaking. “Maps are like pictures. They capture a moment in time, a specific point in history. But it’s more than that. They unlock the past and show the way people and nations viewed the world. How borders were drawn, what countries were named…it’s a guide to the way people used to think, on a massive scale.” A wry smile twisted his lips.

Kat found nothing silly about it. He was absolutely right, and that depth and insight by him fascinated her.

“My turn,” he said. “Why do you like books?”

She laughed. “That’s your question? Out of all of the things you could ask? I’ve already told you that.”

“I mean, aside from what you told me last night, there’s more to it, isn’t there?” And just like that, Kat realized he truly did understand her, deep inside. How could a man she barely knew seem to know her so well?

She studied his profile, the aquiline nose, sensual lips, strong jaw. He had all of the things that made a man sexy and yet it wasn’t just his looks.

It was the way he acted, especially toward her. His voice, pitched soft and low, made her hungry for dark, wicked, sinful things. His body, the heat of it, made her want to curl up against him. And his eyes, those stunning eyes, cut right through her. As though he could see straight into her, every dream and desire. And then there was the way he talked, the things he said, as though in some distant time their two souls had been connected. Like soul mates rediscovering each other.

How can I feel this way toward him? I barely know him?
But it was the truth, she felt like she’d known him for years.

Tristan turned to her, those eyes boring into her. “Books are a part of you, Katherine. It is the most important thing I could ask you, to bare part of your soul.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. She closed her eyes, relishing the way her skin tingled wherever he touched her.

“So tell me, what do you
really
love about books?” he repeated, gently but firmly.

Kat propped her head up on her pillow and slowly reached out and placed her hand on his chest. The fabric of his thin sweater was soft, and his heat warmed her palm. His heartbeat was slow, steady, reassuring. Her own was fast and wild in comparison. Had he done this with other girls? Was this normal for him? The very idea that she wasn’t the first for him cut her deep. She wanted to be doing something with him that he hadn’t done with anyone else. She wanted whatever they did together to be special.

“I’ll answer your question if you answer something else for me.”

“Very well, I’ll indulge you.” He smiled.

“How many times have you done this with other girls?”

His smile faded. “By
this
you mean what?”

“This.” She waved a hand at their bodies.

He covered her hand that lay on his chest and stroked her fingers. “Kat, I’ve been with other women, but I’ve never let one tie to me to a bed, nor have I simply stayed the night to talk to them.”

“Really?” She swallowed hard.

“Yes, darling. I’m willing to do anything to be with you.”

“In bed.” Her tone came out with a little more bite than she intended. When he didn’t correct her, she added, “I can’t figure out if that’s an insult or a compliment.” She pulled her hand away from his body, but he grabbed her wrist and put her palm back on his chest. He stroked the back of her hand with his fingertips. The touch was lulling, almost hypnotic.

“It’s a compliment. I’m beginning to realize that with you, none of my normal rules apply.”

He continued to brush his fingers over her skin, and that touch seemed more intimate than any kiss they’d shared.

“Now tell me why you love books. I’ve been honest with you. Please be honest with me.” His compelling gaze forced Kat to admit she owed him that.

“Books…” She thought through her response, and his fingers curled tighter around hers in a gentle squeeze. That touch gave her the strength to confess. “Books are safe. You don’t have to say good-bye. They don’t hurt you, or leave you.” She didn’t raise her gaze until she was done. When their eyes met, her breath caught in her throat.

A flash of deep emotions moved behind his eyes, a lightning storm behind rain-darkened clouds.

“I want to kiss you right now.” His low tone scraped her senses like the old wood of an antique desk her father had once owned. Enticing, and a little rough. She licked her lips, wanting to give in but not wanting to make the first move.

“Then do it,” she challenged, her own voice husky. Every muscle in her body was tense, her body aching for the promise of Tristan’s slowly spreading grin. How could his smile make such a promise? Like
I’m going to own you, possess every part of you, and you’ll never want to be free.

He used his free hand to slide underneath her body, urging her to lean over him a little.

She rolled up over him, the covers still around them, then held still, holding her breath as she waited. The slow sweet anticipation of his mouth rising to hers sent delicious quivers through her.

A faint brush of lips, an exhalation of shared breaths, and then he was kissing her. Slowly, deliberately, as though he wanted to memorize every part of her lips. It began as a low burn, like a fire in the heart of winter, heating up with each pop and crack of wood, each flick of his tongue against the seam of her lips, entreating her to open with sweet surrender.

Butterflies swirled in her stomach and she shivered, trying to quell her nerves, but she couldn’t deny the excitement at being kissed,
tasted
by this gorgeous man. She could drown in the delightful sensations his touch created.

His kiss was dark and rich, like chocolate and soft black velvet with a hint of wine, wood-smoked and subtle, but oh so deep. There was nothing beyond his mouth and the contact of their bodies.

She needed more, craved it like a wild beast driven only by instinct. Her hands slid up his chest, clawing his sweater, feeling the bulge and slide of his muscles as he responded to her touch. Kat gripped his shoulder and neck, her hands latching onto him, desperate to drag him closer, pull herself over him more.

A distant creak, a little tug, a growl of frustration, and she slowed in her sensual assault. He was bound, couldn’t move, couldn’t touch her the way she wanted him to.

Creak.

The subtle sound of his struggle, as though he wasn’t even aware of it, heated her blood that much more. He was obeying his own code, not demanding that she set him free. He had promised to stay bound, so she felt safe.

I am safe
. Every instinct shouted that.
Can I let him go?

His lips drifted to her jaw, caressing her neck, until she was lost in the heat of his body and his kiss again.

“Tristan,” she murmured against his neck, trying to catch his attention.

“Hmm?” A soft vibration of his response against her throat made her shiver again.

“I can let you free if—”

“No,” he whispered. “If you free me, I won’t be able to control myself. I’m dying to pin you beneath me and fuck you to within an inch of your life.” He arched up a little to nip her neck.

Oh, God
…She wanted it, to hell with her reservations about not sleeping with him so soon. She needed to get closer to him, to feel their bodies skin-to-skin, mouths and hands exploring each other.
I want him to lose control.