More Than a Mistress (8 page)

When she echoed his movements, he groaned against her lips. “You taste like chocolate and raspberries and…”

His hand slid to her breast, and Sara sucked in a deep breath. “And what?” she asked breathlessly, craving the way his voice made her nerve endings jump and shimmy. Her body undulated against his, cradling his arousal between her thighs.

Daniel shuddered. “Oh, Sara, you taste like every secret erotic dream I've ever had,” he whispered, and his confession sent an unbearable thrill throughout her.

He tugged her sweater over her head and tossed it on the bed, then looked at her. Sara knew what he saw. Her pink lace bra couldn't conceal the budding of her nipples. For a second she felt self-conscious. It had been a long time for her, and somehow, with Daniel, she felt very different. She put her hand over the necklace and started to remove it.

His hand stayed hers. “Leave it on,” he murmured, still staring at her breasts until she felt the tips harden even more.

He took a deep breath and lifted his gaze to hers. “How do I get you out of these pants?”

She smiled, moving slightly away from him. “All you had to do was ask.”

He watched her unbutton, unzip and smoothly step out of the slacks while the pearl necklace swayed against her breasts. The little scrap of pink lace hugging her hips drew his gaze like a homing device. He could rip it apart in seconds, and the thought of touching her where she was moist and hot nearly sent him over the edge. He clenched his hands to keep from grabbing her and taking her right then. How could she be so smooth when he felt worn and ragged from restraint? He opened his mouth to tell her how beautiful she was, but nothing came out.

Sara laid her hands on his chest and looked at him with the age-old mystery of Eve in her eyes. “This is a little inequitable, don't you think?” She undid his buttons one by one. The sensation of her hands on his chest made his heart pound.

She pulled out his shirttails, moved her hand to his belt and hesitated. “I guess it's my turn to ask. How do I get you out of these pants?”

“Give me half a minute,” he growled, dispensing with the belt, then shucking both his pants and briefs in one swift motion. He felt her gaze travel from his shoulders, down his chest, to his aroused manhood. She looked at his legs and feet, and Daniel held his breath, hoping like hell she liked what she saw.

Her expression said she wasn't intimidated by his size. She was excited by it. She stepped forward and rubbed her cheek against his chest. “You're a beautiful man, Daniel.”

The comment surprised him. He plowed his fingers through her hair. “Me? You're the one who's beautiful. Hair like silk, skin like satin, and your nipples, they remind me of those raspberries.”

Sara looked down, undid her bra and shrugged it off. Daniel lifted the necklace over her head. The chain still retained her body heat. He closed his palm around it, then hung it over the knob of her bed headboard.

He'd barely turned back to her before she rubbed those raspberry nipples against his rib cage. The sight and sensation was too erotic for words.

Something inside Daniel broke free, and his hands went wild. Cupping her breasts, he thumbed her nipples while he lowered his head to kiss her. She welcomed his tongue into her mouth, responding with the same intensity he felt. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she arched against him. He slid his hands inside her panties, over her bottom, then between her legs where she was warm and wet. He slipped a finger inside her.

Sara gasped.

“Too fast?” God, he hoped not.

“I don't think—” she shook her head, clenching her thighs to keep his hand there “—there's any help for it.”

He was trying not to lose it completely. He was trying to concentrate on making sure she was ready, but her heady scent had his senses swimming. The look in her eyes was the kind a man would beg for, and he was throbbing with the need to replace his finger with the part of him that was aroused to the point of pain.

She wrapped her hand around him, and his knees nearly buckled.

He sucked in a quick, sharp breath. “S-S-S-Sara.”

She rubbed her thumb over the tip.

Daniel swore.

She removed her hand, and he swore again.

“I've got something in the drawer by the bed,” she murmured, backing away from him, her eyes dark with passion.

Hating the space between them, he dragged her back and wondered what she was talking about. Then it dawned on him. Protection. He'd brought a couple of condoms in his pocket.

She pulled him with her, found the plastic packet and tore it open. Then she gave him a shove so that he sat on the bed, and she bent over and smoothed the thin sheath over him. He realized she'd done this before, but he banished the thought immediately. She was his tonight. That was all that mattered.

Her breasts bobbed inches near his face, tempting him, and he took one tip into his mouth.

Sara moaned in pleasure and stroked him in rhythm with the sucking motion of his mouth. His hands were restless, making her burn with a heat that would rival the fires of hell. She wanted him badly. That want was quickly escalating to a need that pulsed between her thighs and made her heart ache in a strange, confusing way.

He suckled her nipple again, tightening the need and making her feel a little desperate. “Daniel.” Sara heard the sound of distress in her voice and swallowed hard. “I—”

Suddenly he lifted his head, leaned back and pulled her so that she fell on his chest. Before she could catch her breath, he rolled her beneath him. He shifted between her legs, and she felt his arousal, thick and hard, poised at her entrance.

She'd never been more aware of her vulnerability, but she sensed he was holding back for her. The teasing and not quite having nearly made her beg.

His hungry gaze fell over her, and he briefly shut his eyes as if he, too, were struggling for control. “I'm about at the end of my rope, Sara,” he said, lifting a trembling hand for her to see.

“That makes two of us,” she said breathlessly, and placed her own trembling but smaller palm against his.

He looked at their matched palms and, one by one, twined his callused fingers with her smooth ones. Then he looked up and stared deep into her eyes. His expression shook her. Something powerful passed between them, something she could barely fathom.

Then slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself inside her, stretching and filling her.

“God, you're tight,” he whispered, savoring the moment.

It was true. He was big, and it had been a while for her, so Sara had the odd feeling of having too much, but still wanting more. He pulled back, and she arched against him, wanting him to stay inside her.

“What is it?” he asked, pushing a strand of hair from her face.

His gentleness made it worse. Sara felt beads of perspiration gather on her forehead. “You feel good inside me. Don't—” She broke off when he pushed in to the hilt.

He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Don't what?”

Everything about him felt so wonderful: his voice, the beating of his heart against hers, his legs against her inner thighs. She felt herself straining toward him. “Don't stop,” she said, the words more of a whimper than a command. Need made her bold, though. She urged his hips down with her hands and arched into him.

His face was a study of pleasure and pain. “I couldn't stop if I tried.”

He covered her mouth with his, and his tongue echoed the pumping of his pelvis. The slide of his flesh in hers made them both slick with perspiration. He whispered words of encouragement that made her rise against his thrusts in a faster rhythm.

The tension inside her grew so tight that she hurt. Closing her eyes, Sara turned her head to the side.

“No.” His husky voice drew her back. “I want to see your face.” He slipped his hand between them. “I want you to look at me.”

Holding her with his gaze, he caressed the tiny button of her femininity until she bucked against him and began to shudder uncontrollably.

His face lit with rapture, he gave a rough groan and thrust heavily, catching the wave of her ecstasy and riding his own. When she was still trembling moments later, he held her tight as if he were trying to prevent her from falling apart. Sara bit her lip against an appalling urge to cry. It had been too wonderful. Another layer of restraint fell from between them, and for the first time in her life she felt utterly possessed.

“Lord.”
Daniel felt as if he'd just discovered sex for the first time. Struggling for breath, he looked at the woman in his arms with awe. She was so incredibly responsive, he thought. She was still clinging to him.

She was also still shaking. Daniel's gut twisted. He turned to his side, pulling her with him. “Hey. Hey. Are you okay?”

Sara burrowed her face into his throat but didn't say anything.

He stroked her hair in a soothing motion. “Sara?”

“Give me a minute.”

Daniel tensed. She sounded all choked up, making him fearful that she was crying. He counted to sixty and lifted her chin. Her dazed but tear-free eyes met his.

He felt a punch of relief and something else. She looked the way he felt. He swallowed hard and tried to grin. “You didn't tell me I was going to need a pacemaker.”

Her expression solemn, she shook her head. “I don't know what to say.”

“You can say you're okay.”

“I'm okay,” she said in a quiet, uncertain voice. She took a deep breath, then her gaze skittered away and she bit her lip. “I just remembered I need to let Pavi out. I meant to after dinner, but…”

“I distracted you,” Daniel finished for her. “I'll do it. It won't take—”

“No!” Sara worked free of his arms and sat up. “You're the guest. Do you want something to drink? Wine? Beer? Coffee?” She started to stand, but Daniel caught her around the waist and pulled her down.

“Sit tight. You've done enough tonight.” He rose and stretched. “I think I can manage coffee.”

Heedless of his nudity, he walked from the room.

Sara was in a quandary. She'd mentioned Pavi as an excuse to get away from the scent of their lovemaking, to get out of bed, where her defenses had been stripped. Going to bed with Daniel had been more than a mutually pleasurable experience. His kindness had seemed more personal, as if he actually cared for
her.

Sara made a face. Daniel cared for everybody, she reminded herself. Something, though, about the way he looked at her made her wonder if he saw her as something more than the wild woman. The notion frightened her, and if she were honest, she'd admit it thrilled her too.

Did she want him falling for her? Did she want to ruin another good man? her conscience chided. Did she want to try again?

She saw him step through the doorway carrying a mug and a package of cookies. He wore a grin that charmed her worries away. She couldn't contain an answering smile. “I wish I had a camera. This would make an interesting picture. Nude man with coffee and Oreos. What would your brothers say?”

“They'd say, ‘You lucky dog,' because if they said anything else, I'd have to beat 'em up. Here.” He set the mug on the night table. “With sugar and cream,” he said before she could ask. “Want a cookie?”

“Sure. Where's your coffee?”

“We're sharing,” he answered with a sly look.

“Oh.” Wondering what he was planning, Sara took a quick gulp.

“Speaking of my brothers, it crossed my mind that dinner at Sara's house is different from dinner at Daniel's house. What did you think of Christmas?”

Sara's gaze fell to the bedspread. “It was fun, noisy and friendly. Your family seems close. It was very nice of you and Carly to invite me.”

Daniel heard the beginnings of that polite, distancing tone in her voice, but he forged ahead anyway. “Did Jarod's questions bother you?”

She shifted and tugged the bedspread over her. “They were normal questions.”

He put his thumb under her chin and lifted it. “We've just been as close as two people can get. Can't you talk to me?”

Her eyes looked defensive. “Just because our bodies have been close doesn't mean I'm going to bare my soul too.”

Daniel felt as if he'd been slapped. He pulled his hand away. “Sorry.”

Sara sighed and shook her head. “No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I guess I'm feeling a little strange.” She gestured vaguely with her hand. “This being our first time and everything.”

Daniel narrowed his eyes, feeling a twinge of uneasiness in his gut. “Was it what you expected?”

“No.”

His heart seemed to stop beating.

She sighed. “It was more… Oh, I don't know how to describe it. You were more than I expected.”

His heart settled back into its normal rhythm. “Do you mean my body was more, or something else?”

Sara nodded. “Yes, your body.” She blinked. “Yes, something else.”

“Sara—”

She put a finger to his lips. “I told you earlier I didn't know what to say. I still don't. But you're more than I expected.” Her gaze fell over him in a warm, womanly way that made him feel incredibly glad he was a man. “You've got a great body and I haven't really had the kind of opportunity I'd like to explore it.” She lifted the package of Oreos out of his hand and placed it on the nightstand with her coffee. Then, slanting a sultry look at him, she put her hand on his chest and swirled her fingers through the spray of hair. “Do you mind if I explore now?”

Every nerve ending in his body went on alert. Daniel sucked in a deep breath and flattened his hand over hers. “If I didn't know better, I might think you don't want to answer my questions. I might think you're trying to distract me.”

Sara silently laid her head on his chest. Her hair felt silky against his skin and her breasts teased his belly, bringing him another twist of pleasure.

“Nothing to say?”

“I take the fifth. You don't want me to…explore?”

The woman should be put behind bars for her seductive abilities. She didn't seem the least bit concerned about her nudity. If he could just get her to trust him enough to share a few more of her secrets… One thing at a time, he decided, feeling his loins thicken with desire.

He squeezed her hand. “I'm more than willing for you to explore, but you need to remember about the Pushy Pendletons. I'll be asking those questions again, and next time I'll be expecting answers.” He tossed the bedspread off the lower half of her body and lay down next to her. He went one step farther in making himself appear defenseless by releasing her hand and spreading both of his on either side of his body. “Do your worst.”

“Just remember,” she said, lazily stroking her tongue across one of his nipples, “you asked for it.”

 

Three hours later Daniel walked out to his truck. He would have liked to stay the whole night, but Sara didn't want the neighbors talking. His legs felt like stretched-out rubber bands. His cardiovascular system felt as if he'd run a marathon. His brain had turned to mush, and he was ridiculously delighted with the fact that there wasn't a smidgen of lipstick left on Sara Kingston's delectable mouth.

It took him three tries to get the truck in gear, and he still had to fight the overwhelming temptation not to go back to the house for more.

Whatever he'd expected from Sara Kingston—and he'd expected a lot—he hadn't expected to feel such intensity of sensations. She'd tickled, teased, taunted, tormented and satisfied him in a way he'd never before experienced.

He drove through the dark night, concentrating on the hours he'd spent with her. He was beginning to comprehend the possibility of how she could ruin a man, although Daniel didn't put himself in the ruinable category. He was too self-disciplined and sensible to let a woman destroy him, but the fact remained that Sara Kingston packed a punch. She had been so utterly focused on pleasing
him.
She'd made him feel like the most important man in the world.

The only thing that grated on him was the way she'd avoided answering his questions. Maybe it should have been enough that he had possessed her body and she had possessed his. After all, that had been his goal, to have her sexually. But something about her made him crave more.

Pulling into his driveway, he made a promise to uncover all her secrets. Then, he sensed, he would feel satisfied. Then he wouldn't have this edgy I-think-about-her-too-much feeling. Then his hunger for her would wane.

He got out of the car and walked to the front door, careful to keep the screen door from slamming as he entered. Not wanting to wake his brothers, he made his way quietly to the large den, where he found Troy asleep on the sofa. He turned off the TV.

Troy sat up. “That you, Daniel?”

“Yeah. Why don't you go to bed?”

Troy yawned, stood and stretched, then squinted his eyes at Daniel. “Your hair's all messed up.”

“Thanks,” Daniel said dryly.

“Where are your socks and tie?”

“In my pockets.” Daniel tried not to grind his teeth. Troy could be such a pain, he thought, and decided to head for the privacy of his own room.

Troy laughed, following him down the hall. “Looks like you had some night.”

Daniel ignored his brother and opened the door to his bedroom.

“So you gonna tell me about it? Was Sara a great lay, or what?”

A rush of fury sped through his veins. He whirled, grabbing Troy and forcing his brother against the wall. “I don't ever want to hear you say that word in the same sentence with Sara's name again. What goes on between her and me is private. Do you read me? It's none of your damned business. And you'd better keep your stupid mouth shut around her unless you have something polite to say.” Daniel saw his brother's expression of horror and dropped his hands.

Disgusted with Troy and with his own violent reaction, Daniel turned away.

“Sorry,” Troy murmured.

“Okay,” he said. “Get some sleep.” Daniel walked into his room, shutting the door behind him. He gave a heavy sigh and looked at the floor. His emotions were more out of control than he'd realized. If this was what happened after one night with Sara, he was going to have to be very careful in the future, because it sure as hell wasn't going to be his last night with her.

 

She'd seen him every night except two since the first time they'd made love. They'd start out just talking or sharing a meal, but they couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other and always wound up in bed.

Tonight, however, due to her monthly cycle, she wasn't in the mood to make love. So she left a carefully worded message with Troy that she was tired and would see Daniel in a day or so.

She'd had a long day at the office followed by a volunteer committee meeting to discuss starting a food closet for Beulah County. There was a relentless, depressing rain falling outside, and if she were sensible, she'd stay away from chocolate and salt, take a nice hot bath and go straight to bed.

But on the way home she picked up a bag of cheese popcorn, three chocolate-filled doughnuts and a videocassette of
Dr. Zhivago.

After taking a hot bath she put on her oldest flannel nightgown and planted herself on the sofa with the popcorn, a doughnut and the remote control. A third of the way through the movie she started bawling.

About the time she reached for the tissues, the doorbell rang. She quickly blew her nose and ran to the door. Peeking through the window, she swore.

Sara cracked the door open. She didn't want to invite him in. “Hi, Daniel. Did you get my message?”

“Yeah.” His voice was dark and confrontational. “Troy said you were tired of me.”

Sara fought a surge of frustration. “I didn't say I was tired of you. I just said I was tired.”

“Are you gonna let me in?”

Daniel's hair and suede jacket were wet, and he looked as if he had every intention of camping on her doorstep if she didn't invite him in. She sighed and swung open the door.

Emanating displeasure, he stepped in and stood in the hallway for several moments, not saying a word. Sara's sniff broke the silence, and he studied her face. “Have you got a cold?”

She sniffed again, imagining the sight he beheld. Her eyes would be bloodshot, her nose red and her skin splotchy. “No. I always cry when I watch
Dr. Zhivago.
”

“You've been crying!” He was obviously horrified.

“Yes. Daniel, this isn't a good night for me. I'm worn out and I don't really feel like—” she waved her hand, searching for the right word “—entertaining.”

His brow furrowed. “You don't have to entertain me. We don't have to go to bed every time we get together, either.” He looked slightly abashed. “We can talk.”

Sara pushed her hair back from her face, wishing she weren't having this conversation. “Due to natural technical difficulties, I won't be going to bed with you for the next few days.”

He was silent for a while. She saw exactly when the light dawned.

A look of discomfort flitted across his face. Then he shrugged. “Carly used to get cramps and yell or cry a lot.”

“So what did you do?”

“I gave her a hot-water bottle and a hug.”

Warmth flooded her at the thought. “That was nice.”

He shrugged again. “You've got cramps?”

Sara shook her head. “Backache and tears. Not a stellar night, so I'm sure you'll understand if I don't—”

“How about a back rub and a hug?”

She blinked. He'd disarmed her. “I, uh…” She was at a loss. “This isn't going to be all that enjoyable.”

“It's okay, Sara. I just want to be with you.”

His simple declaration touched her deeply. She felt her throat tighten and her eyes brim with tears. “Oh, damn you,” she wailed. “Who needs
Dr. Zhivago
with you around?”

“Come here.”

“I don't think so.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

He came toward her and drew her stiff body into his arms. He felt so good, his clean, musky scent conjuring up memories of the nights they'd shared. She was overwhelmed and overcome, so it shouldn't have been any big surprise when she burst out crying.