Hotbed Honey (17 page)

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Authors: Toni Blake

BOOK: Hotbed Honey
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"That's how you felt
then
," she said. "But how do you feel
now?"
That was a good question. One Max didn't know the answer to. So he didn't reply. He simply stepped close to her, because the one thing he did know was that this was where he wanted to be. And he realized that her robe had come untied and fallen open and whatever she wore underneath was scant and lacy and pale. He met her gaze, her eyes soft and without distinct color in the dimly lit room.
"Look how beautiful you are like this."
Her voice was barely audible. "What?"
"All dripping and shimmering with diamonds and tears. I'm sorry, Kimberly, sorry to make you cry." Then he attempted a gentle smile. "They look good on you." He felt the need to add, "The diamonds. Not the tears."
"They're fake," she reminded him. "The diamonds. Not the tears."
"They're still beautiful. Particularly beautiful on you, babe. What man could resist you?"
"You do pretty well," she muttered.
He immediately shook his head, unable to believe she really thought that. "Not so well," he told her. "Have you already forgotten what happened by the pool?"
He watched as she bit her lip. If she had forgotten, she was clearly remembering it now. He reached up to wipe her solitary tear away with the back of his thumb. He didn't want to see anything on her face but the desire he knew she felt for him.
Then he lowered his hand to her hip inside the robe, his fingertips meeting with soft lace, his palm with her flesh. A mix of sensations sent his need rocketing out of control. Slowly, he slid his hand up her body, stopping it next to her breast. "Did it feel good today by the pool, Kimberly? Me touching you."
"Yes," she whispered.
"Does this feel good?" He reached out his thumb to stroke her nipple through the lace of her bra and felt it bead instantly beneath his touch.
"Yes." Her voice trembled.
Max knew he'd gone too far. And he also knew he was just about to go much further. He leaned close to her ear. "Let me do things to you, Kimberly. Let me take you to bed. Let me make love to you."
Chapter 7
I
t had seemed like an eternity for Kimberly between this morning at the pool and the closet this evening. Now it seemed like an eternity since the closet and this—Max's hand on her aching breast, and his raspy voice in her ear, whispering the hottest invitation she'd ever received.
She knew she should find the strength to say no because she knew, by his own admission, that all he felt for her was lust. But he'd made her so weak. Weak and hungry. It was a horrible, wonderful culmination of all the emotions and sensations she'd experienced since seeing him again. And she was too weak, too hungry to say no. If lust was all she could have from him, she'd take it.
"Oh, Max…" she breathed.
He was still near her ear—she could still feel his breath. "Say yes, Kimberly. Tell me you want me as much as I want you."
"Oh yes, Max, I want you. You know I do."
He let out a heavy sigh that struck Kimberly as rapturous relief. Then he was lowering warm, soft kisses to her neck and gently raking his teeth down her earlobe. She pulled in her breath at the incredible sensation of it, thinking,
We're really going to do this, we're really going to make love.
Suddenly she couldn't wait another minute, another second. She wanted him so much more than she ever had before, more than she'd even known was possible.
His kisses moved to her mouth—hot, delicate kisses that seemed to wrap around her and take hold of her soul. He cupped both of her breasts in his hands and she sighed again. How badly she had yearned for this. For three long, lonely years she had waited, dreamed, of being in Max's arms again.
She kissed him some more, kissed him as he kneaded her breasts, kissed him as he pushed the kimono off her shoulders and to the floor. He grazed one hand down over her hip, then let it dip teasingly between her legs before brushing his fingertips up over her bare stomach, finally stopping at the front clasp on her bra.
She felt the clasp come undone, the bra loosening around her. She loved the sensation of being undressed by him, even if she hadn't been wearing much in the first place. Pushing the lace cups aside, he rubbed his palms over her taut, sensitive nipples, gazing down at them. "You're so beautiful," he murmured.
He bent over her, raining tiny, fire-infused kisses to her nipples, flicking his tongue expertly over the hardened nubs until she thought he might drive her completely out of her mind. Then he took the tip of her breast into his mouth, hard and fervent, making her pant and whimper. "Oh, Max, it feels so good. Please don't stop. Please."
And then he stopped.
She wanted to kill him, but immediately remembered—Max's lovemaking was legendary. He knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Kimberly looked down into his eyes and he looked back, his gaze heated and knowing. She was at his mercy now and there was no taking control. She didn't even want to.
He kissed his way down her stomach and she tingled hotly below, waiting, waiting. And then came the sweet kisses on her thigh, edging upward with achingly slow precision until finally they met with her panties. He kneeled before her, gently moving the lace aside with rough fingertips, making Kimberly clench her fists and pull in her breath. Soon he began to kiss her there, pushing two fingers inside. She gasped, reaching over her head, clawing helplessly at the wall behind her so as not to collapse from the mind-crushing sensations. "Max." She didn't know if she was whispering or screaming at this point, and she didn't care.
He lifted one of her legs, placing her foot on a chair beside her, so he could reach her better. She clenched her teeth to keep from sobbing at how much she felt it, how his mouth was making her body shriek with ecstasy, how the sensations had now become wild pulses that rippled through her at lightning speed. It was about to happen, she knew, about to tear through her with all the power of a locomotive, about to bury her, and then … he was gone.
Rising, he took her in his arms, where she shivered and muttered, "Please, Max, why?"
"Shh." He soothed her, holding her close, dropping soft kisses on her neck, running his strong hands over the length of her back. "Don't worry, babe," he whispered. "We're not done yet. Not even close."
"But—" She'd been so on the edge, so deliciously near, and he … he'd abandoned her. "Maybe you weren't close, but I was."
"Shh. Trust me." He began kissing her again, those same delicately passionate kisses that turned her inside out, and on second thought, this hardly felt like abandonment.
Trust me
. Oh yes, she did. She would.
Max pulled back from her and gently lowered her panties to her ankles to let her step free of them. He stood back, gazing on her nakedness, until finally he uttered, "You take my breath away, Kimberly."
He started undressing, too, unbuttoning his shirt and nearly ripping it off, yanking his shoes from his feet, pushing his blue jeans down and stepping out of them. Then he removed his briefs. She looked at him just as he'd looked at her—remembering, wanting. This was too much. "Don't make me wait, Max."
He shook his head and his voice came as breathy as hers. "I don't think I can."
He dug in his wallet for a condom and they fell frantically to the bed, both shoving the jewelry aside. He was inside her instantly. She was trying not to cry at how good it felt, at how much she loved him, at how right and perfect this seemed. He moved in her slow and deep and she felt it to her very core. Wrapping her legs around him, she never wanted to let him leave her, never wanted this glorious connection to end.
I love you, Max. Oh, how I love you.
She whispered the words to herself, over and over.
But then he pulled away from her yet again and she heard her own sob. She felt like a terribly impatient lover, but couldn't help how badly she needed him.
He rolled her onto her side and entered her from behind. She remembered telling him once that she could feel him deeper that way, and it was true, she still could. As she cried out with every thundering stroke, she knew she'd never felt this whole in her life—this right, this incredibly fulfilled. Having him inside her completed her in a way nothing else, no one else, ever could. It was a perfect moment in time, and she prayed it would never end.
He slid his hand over her hip and thigh, and began to gently stroke her with his finger. It was a sensation like velvet. She closed her eyes and just let herself feel it, let herself bask in it, until that glorious tension began to build inside her, began to fill her, driving her to move her body against his hand as he made love to her. And then it took her—the most startling release she'd ever known, stunning in its intensity, and beautiful because it was filled with all the love she felt for the man who had given in to her.
Soon he was coming, too, with a deep groan as he thrust hard inside her. Kimberly thought she would burst with emotion over the connection they shared, over the places they'd just taken each other.
They stayed quiet and still as he held her afterward, his arms wrapped around her from behind. She hoped he wouldn't notice her ridiculous reaction, but finally he leaned over and peered at her in the moonlight. "Are you crying?" he whispered.
She lifted a hand to wipe her tears away and tried to cover a necessary sniffle. "No."
"It's all right if you are, Kimberly," he murmured low and sweet. "It's okay." Then he lowered a gentle kiss to her cheek and lay back behind her, still holding her tight.
* * *
Max let the morning sun urge his eyes open. Looked like another beautiful day outside. A beautiful day to catch a thief, he thought. Then he glanced beside him in bed and saw Kimberly, bare but for the sheet that rose only to her waist, a diamond choker still circling her delicate neck. He closed his eyes again. She looked incredibly lovely. But he'd made a very big mistake.
He couldn't believe he'd let happen what he'd let happen. Well, maybe he could. It had seemed inevitable as the day had progressed yesterday, but it was completely unprofessional. Their lovemaking had stirred up some old feelings for her, tender feelings, but that didn't mean anything had changed.
The best thing he could do, he decided, would be to get out of bed, get in the shower, get dressed, get downstairs. Not make a big deal out of this. Move on.
He rolled over away from her, ready to push the covers back, when she stirred next to him.
He looked back at her. Watched her eyes flutter open. Watched her turn to him with a sleepy, sexy, sweet-as-candy smile. "Morning," she said, her voice butterfly soft.
As soon as Kimberly saw him, her thoughts—practically her whole being—leaped to last night. To the complete and utter fulfillment he'd given her, something that had felt far more than sexual, as if he'd somehow reached inside her and touched her soul.
"Uh, hi," he said, his gaze downcast. Only then did she really see him. The troubled expression shadowing his handsome face. The worry hanging over his dark eyes. His deep voice had sounded vaguely cool, dejected.
"Are you … okay?" she asked, praying,
Please, please don't do this, please don't act how I'm afraid you're going to act.
"Yeah, fine," he replied without looking at her. Then he reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his briefs. "We'd better get moving. Big day today."
She sighed, realizing he was going to act that way. As though nothing had happened. She couldn't stand that. In fact, she
wouldn't
stand for it.
She sat up in bed and stared at him. "Are you just going to pretend we didn't make love?"
Next to her, he sighed, but he still didn't look at her. "We shouldn't have. It's my fault. I'm sorry. I got too close to you and lost control."
Kimberly swallowed hard. He'd just made everything completely clear to her. Even after last night, all he felt for her was lust. Still. She knew she should have foreseen this and in fact, she had. She'd told herself over and over again that making love to Max would be a mistake because he would never return her feelings. She'd forgotten about that last part amid her ecstasy. Now it was slapping her in the face, hard. And it hurt just as much as she'd imagined it would, maybe more, because imagined hurt was nothing like the real thing. Real hurt cut to the quick and you couldn't dull it and you couldn't escape it. It was just a part of you. Already, it felt like the biggest part of Kimberly.

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