Summer Dreams (17 page)

She'd dimmed the lights and started the fire. It glowed merrily in the semi-dark room. A cool breeze blew from the patio, making the fire feel cozy. And from the depths of his kitchen, she'd found two chipped brandy snifters, tributes to his wilder days, and a half-full bottle of brandy.

Seated before the hearth, with her legs tucked beneath her and the fire glowing on her hair, she managed to look both angelic and seductive at the same time. He hoped he could soothe her insecurities quickly because he didn't know how much more of this he could take.

She looked up at him and said, "You look comfy. I hope you don't mind about the brandy. I know you don't like to drink, but after what happened tonight, I needed something to calm my nerves. Just one glass shouldn't hurt." She smiled and added, "Natalia Nurse believes one glass might even be medicinal."

"The brandy's fine," he said. "Uh, could you help me with these buttons? I can't seem to manage with one hand."

Her gaze traveled over his half-bare chest, slowly, inch by inch. If a gaze could caress, then she'd just mastered the art of it. He felt as if she'd branded him without even touching him, seared his flesh with her own fierce mark of possession.

"Could I change first? I tried to wash off the blood so now I'm wet." She wrinkled her nose. "It's not very comfortable. I'll get your buttons in a minute."

Sucking in a deep breath, his head felt light. Loss of blood, he tried to convince himself but knew better. Had he heard her right? Had she asked to change? Into what, he'd like to know?  The possibilities played through his head, all of them naughty, all of them rendering him as hard as a post.

"Don't you have something I could wear?" She asked.

"I, ah, I . . ." He stammered. Who was seducing whom, he would like to know? And that hadn't been his intent.
Por Dios
, he needed to think. He must have something decent she could wear.

"I still have some old jeans and shirts from a few years back. They might be kind of big on you, but if---"

"That's great," she said. "Point me to them. You rest your wrist, I'm sure I can find them."

"Okay, they're in the bottom left-hand drawer in the bureau."

She nodded and rose in one fluid motion. She went into his bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Natalia was in his bedroom.

The thought was mind-boggling. Groaning with the effort, he tried not to imagine her undressing in there. He forced himself to recount his batting statistics for the past ten years, backwards and ignore the growing bulge in his jeans.

He tried to ignore the pounding heat in his loins and poured the brandy, left-handed, no small feat. Then he turned to the fire and poked at the logs awkwardly, managing to add another piece of wood. He crossed to the patio door and pulled back the curtain a foot or so, letting the cool night air pour into the room. He was sweating like he'd been running the outfield, catching fly balls. Standing at the sliding glass door, he reveled in the chill of the breeze on his feverish skin.

The sound of the bedroom door alerted him, and he spun around. Standing in the doorway, she'd never looked quite as tempting as she did at this moment. Like someone's sultry kid sister.  She'd rolled the sleeves of his too-large shirt above her elbows, and the jeans were rolled, too, folded just below her knees. She reminded him of a bobby-soxer from an old movie. But never had a bobby-soxer looked this hot.

On bare feet, she approached him, gliding across his tiny living room. She stopped before him, a whisper away and a mere breath separating them. And this close to her, he trembled like an adolescent boy on his first date. All of his experience with women deserted him, leaving him as expectant, as filled with wonder, as if this were his first time, his only time, to be with a woman.

She reached up and grasped the edges of his open shirt, threading one button through its mated hole. He held himself perfectly still and sucked in his breath, afraid to move, afraid even to breathe for fear of exploding with desire.  

Her soft fingers moved to the next button, but she didn't fasten it. Instead, she tentatively widened the opening, brushing her fingertips across his chest, stroking gently, tenderly kneading his flesh, exploring and tracing the expanse of his abdomen.

This was a new Natalia he didn't know, someone he'd never seen before, the determined siren of all his erotic fantasies.

Hot, pulsing needs mounted in him. His head was light again. How many times had he dreamed of her hands on him, her fingertips brushing over him? He stifled a moan and caught her two hands with his one good one. His voice was raspy, vibrating with warning, "Don't do this to me, Natalia. I can't stand it."

She stretched on tiptoe and touched her mouth to his. Her lips opened beneath his, warm and soft, clinging and moist. The scent of her jasmine perfume surrounded him, mingling with the sweet taste of her mouth. Releasing her hands, he pulled her closer, devouring her mouth with a greedy need.

Her arms came up and encircled his bare waist, and her fingernails lightly scored his back. His sex throbbed with wanting, straining against his blue jeans, begging for release. His passion-fogged mind fumbled for some sense of reality. He couldn't quite believe what was happening. But
por Dios
, if it was a dream, he didn't want to wake up.

She shifted, brushing herself against him. The pebble-hard points of her breasts grazed his chest, and he knew she wasn't wearing a bra beneath his old flannel shirt. This was no dream.  She wanted him, desired him. She was giving herself to him. Could he accept her gift and not feel guilty?

The events of tonight might have precipitated this, but it had been inevitable anyway, as inevitable as summer following spring. And he loved her, could never hurt her, and would never leave her. He wanted her as his wife, the mother of his children. If they shared intimate pleasures tonight or two weeks from now or the night of their honeymoon, it wouldn't change the way he felt about her, the way he'd felt for years.

And he wanted her to know, too, to understand the depth of his feelings before they went any further. He wanted to tell her what he'd been waiting to say to her for years.

Hell, he wanted to shout it from the heavens.

He grasped her hand in his and led her before the fire, pulling her down beside him. Then he took her chin in his hand and gazed directly into her eyes. "Natalia,
te amo
. I have always loved you. I don't remember a time not loving you."

***

Natalia heard Esteban's words of love, and she didn't know what to say. She'd dreamed of this moment, wondered what it would feel like to have him say he loved her. And her heart was so full of love for him, too, it threatened to spill over.

But she couldn't bring herself to say the words. The fear of being hurt again was too fresh, too poignant. She knew what she wanted, though. She wanted Esteban, all of him, as close as two human beings could get. Her body was sure but her heart clung to its past pain like a child to a once-beloved but worn-out teddy bear.

If she couldn't return his declaration of love, then the best she could do was to show him her love, the love she couldn't bring herself to admit.

She dropped her head and nestled her face in the warm strength of his hand. Brushing her lips across his wrist, she rained feather-soft kisses all over his wrist and hand. She gently cradled his other, injured wrist and kissed it, too, hoping to kiss away the hurt.

As she trailed her lips over his warm flesh, he shuddered and moved closer, pulling her to him with his good arm. She raised her head and gazed into his storm-cloud gray eyes, relishing the flame of desire she'd kindled there. 

He lowered his head and captured her mouth. His full lips moved over hers like a well-remembered song, cherishing, worshipping, and promising pleasures she could only imagine. His mouth opened and she parted her lips in response. He pushed his tongue inside, sliding it sensuously along her tongue. His tongue taunted and teased, dancing with hers, advancing and retreating, mimicking that most intimate of acts between a man and woman. Tiny, piercing shafts of pure sensation invaded her, advancing on stealthy feet of pleasure. Her blood thickened, flowing hotly, sweetly in her veins, singing with anticipation.

She pressed herself closer and thrust her tongue deeper into his mouth, initiating her own exploration. Her tongue stroked the tender lining of his mouth, savoring the heated interior of him, drowning in the too-sweet taste.

He groaned deep in his throat and undid the only button she'd fastened for him. She took his cue but kept her mouth pressed to his while her fingers drifted downward, easing his shirt off, careful of his injured wrist."Should I bind your wrist for you?" She whispered against his open mouth.

"Don't bother," he replied, his deep voice raspy.

His bare chest glistened in the firelight, coated with a fine sheen of perspiration. Like an eager child at Christmas, she reached for him, laying the palms of her hands flat against his chest. She savored the rock-hard feel of him, fulfilling years of banished fantasies. Trembling, she traced his finely-sculpted muscles, lingered over the taut tendons swelling there.

With a thoroughness that bordered on worship, she drank in the feel of him. His warm, smooth flesh filled her with wonder, sending electric shocks pulsing through her fingertips.  Combing her fingers through his crisp, curling hair, she gravitated to his flat male paps and tentatively, she brushed her fingers over them. To her delight, his nipples responded, the small, brown areolas puckering tight, the tiny nipples rising to full attention.

Filled with awe at her handiwork, she dropped her head and encircled one with her tongue, tasting the salty, musky essence of him. She delighted in the taste of him, and she suckled one of his nipples gently.

"
Madre de Dios
," he moaned, writhing. His mouth found her neck and laved it with kisses, his tongue rough against her skin, seeking and finding the sensitive spot beneath her ear. His hand followed his mouth, stroking and caressing, smoothing away the love nips he'd bestowed. Slowly, his hand descended her throat, delving beneath the open V of his old shirt.

His fingertips brushed the top of her naked breast, and she held her breath. Her nipples hardened with a will of their own, anticipating his hand on them. Her feverish brain bemoaned the fact he had only one hand to touch her with. It wasn't enough. She could never get enough of him touching her.

As if in answer to her silent yearning, he cupped her breast tenderly, circling the nipple with his finger. Hot, pulsing need rocketed through her, like a shot of pure alcohol, leaving her aching for more. His hand left her breast, and she almost cried out with the pain of abandonment.  Then she realized that he was trying to open the buttons of her shirt.

She pushed his hand aside, popping open the buttons, one-by-one. She shrugged from the shirt and let it drop to the floor.

He gasped, his eyes riveted on her bare breasts. Time hung by a thread, the moment stretched endlessly in heady suspension while she waited and anticipated, hoping she pleased him. Proud to be giving herself to him.

"
Por Dios
, Natalia, you're more beautiful than I dreamed. Like a goddess, so perfect …"

Unable to wait any longer, she wantonly cupped her own breasts, offering them. He didn't need further encouragement. Dipping his head, he captured one breast with his mouth while gently kneading the other with his fingers.

Tossing her head and arching herself into his embrace, she gave herself over to the moment, reveling in the pure sensation of him touching her. Under his tender ministrations, her breasts swelled with need, and her nipples tightened almost painfully. His hand was warm and strong on her breast, and his mouth was pure bliss as he suckled hard, pulling her breast into the heated cave of his mouth. 

Streamers of desire streaked through her, invisible chords running from her breasts to her abdomen and lower. Her vagina tightened painfully, contracting, begging him to enter her, to fill the aching void he'd created with his mouth and hand.

Bending her slowly back, he lowered her to the floor. His breath sounded ragged as his tongue traced down her abdomen. He had both hands on her breasts now, teasing her nipples into too-tight buds, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy.

"What about your wrist," she gasped.

"Screw my wrist," he said. "I don't feel a thing, except you, Natalia. Except the wonder of you."

She buried her nails in his shoulders, silently urging him on. Her fingertips traced slow, languorous patterns on his muscular back. He was hers, handsome and dangerous Esteban belonged to her now.

Molten heat followed his descent down her abdomen, his mouth and fingertips trailing fire over her sensitized skin. The zipper of her jeans slid open, and she raised her hips off the floor. With his help, she shed the too-big jeans. Wearing nothing but a wisp of lacy bikini panties, she rose on her knees and faced him.

Skimming her fingers downward, she cupped him through the stiff denim of his jeans.  Glorying in the feel of his bulging penis, straining against the too-tight denim, she rubbed her bare breasts against his naked chest. Their mouths fused again, hungering, devouring. Following her lead, he lowered his hand and smoothed the satin of her panties against the nub of her clitoris.

Hot, liquid desire coated her panties, spilling onto her thighs. She moaned in the back of her throat and pressed closer. Gently, he insinuated his fingers past the elastic band and touched her, stroking and caressing her clitoris, coating it with her own juices.

Lightning streaked through her body. Her hips arched and bucked, silently begging for more. He rained kisses over her face, neck and breasts, and he lowered her to the floor once more and pulled off her panties. She lay naked beneath him, aching and craving, burning with an unquenched fire.

When he gazed down at her, she read the flame of desire in his eyes, and she saw the trance-like passion stamped on his features. This was another world; a miniature world made just for the two of them, and the pleasure they could give each other.