No Less Than a Lifetime Page 9

“But, I—”

  “Don’t.”

  He was silent. She stared at the fluffy towels, then higher, at a shelf laden with complimentary toilet supplies in clear plastic tubs: bars of scented soap, shampoo, conditioner, tiny mending kits…

  “Where?” she heard him ask in a rough whisper.

  “What?”

  “Where? You mean here, in the hotel?”

  She couldn’t believe that they were talking about this, as if they would actually do it, as if it were truly an option. She kept her eyes on the tub of mending kits. “Urn, yes. Here. We could get a room. Just one night. You and me…”

  “But this is—”

  She whipped her head around and pinned him with a glare. “Will you? This one night. And that’s all. That’s what I want.”

  He blinked. “But why?”

  Her nerve deserted her. She slumped back against the big drum of whatever-it-was again. The metal felt cold against her bare back. “Oh, I’m being a fool. It’s the champagne. And my going away. That’s all.” She tried a conciliatory smile. “Never mind, all right? Let’s just forget that I—”

  But Price wasn’t smiling. “No. Let’s not forget. Why? Why would you want to do this?”

  Because I love you, her heart cried. “I told you. Forget it. It was all that champagne.” She looked at him pleadingly, begging him with her eyes to forget the whole thing.

  But Price had spent too many nights lying awake imagining her in his bed. Her suggestion, wasn’t something he could easily dismiss.

  On the one hand, he knew she was right; they should forget it. Her shocking suggestion was not a wise idea.

  On the other hand, though, what the hell was wisdom worth, in a situation like this? He didn’t know what had hit him since she’d said she was leaving his house. Over the past few weeks, his well-ordered life had gone to hell. He’d been living on an emotional roller coaster. Damn it, he wanted her like he’d never wanted any other, woman. And soon she would be gone. He might never see her again.

  Just one night... The words echoed in his brain. He’d been a fool to muddle around asking why. Life was short and cruel. A man should take whatever precious gifts were offered and be grateful for them.

  He scooted closer to her along the cold concrete. “Faith, maybe I…” He didn’t know how to go on.

  “What?” Her voice was small and full of misery, and her head was turned away once more.

  He moved again, until they were side by side, their shoulders touching. Then he reached across and guided her chin around with two fingers of his right hand.

  Her pretty brows drew together. She sighed. “What, Price?”

  He looked at her mouth. Something hot and hungry pulsed through him. It would happen; he would taste her mouth.

  “I know we shouldn’t,” he murmured.

  “So do I.” She sniffed and tried to turn her head again. “You’re right.”

  He didn’t allow her to look away. He cupped her chin, holding it firm.

  “Price?” She said it on a little hitch of a breath. Her eyes were so wide, a little wondering. She was starting to understand.

  “I want to make love with you, Faith.”

  Her eyes widened even more. They took over her face. He could fall into those eyes, be enveloped by them. “Y-you do?”

  “I do.” He shifted a little, so that he could get his arm behind her, and then he gathered her close.

  He ran his hand down her bare, smooth back, under the veil of her silky hair, which swung free now, the little strip of black velvet having completely disappeared. He breathed in that wonderful, seductive, sweet scent of her.

  “Lord,” he said, “you can’t know how much I…”

  “What?”

  “How I…”

  “Yes?”

  He had no idea how to finish that sentence. And right then, words seemed superfluous, anyway. Action was called for.

  So he simply leaned a little closer and settled his mouth on hers.

  “Oh!” she said, the word a breath against his lips. And then he felt her smile.

  He whispered her name.

  “Price,” she whispered back, her slender arms lifting to curl around his neck.

  Price could hardly believe it. The moment he’d dreamed of through two weeks of sleepless nights had actually come to pass. He savored the sweet taste of her, kissing her lightly at first, not wanting to startle her, or make her pull away.

  That bow of hers rustled, an unbearably arousing sound. He heard himself moan.

  He cupped her head, turning her. She came willingly— eagerly, even—to lie across his lap. Wanting more, unable to completely hold back, Price deepened the kiss, urging her lips to open.

  After a brief moment of resistance, she gave up her mouth. Her lips softened and parted like some moist, tender flower before the probing of his hungry tongue.

  His tongue slid inside her mouth. She stiffened. He pulled back. She relaxed, went soft and pliant once more. He tried again, another stroke. This time she only sighed, her lips moving a little, as if she knew him now and welcomed him.

  Already, inside his trousers, he was aching for her. One of his hands was behind her, cradling her bare back, tangled in the long skeins of her hair. His other hand, crossed over the front of her, clutched her shoulder. Against that arm, he could feel the soft swell of her breasts. He wanted to caress them. To peel back the black velvet and taste them.

  He wanted to undress her. And this was not the place to do that.

  Reluctantly he raised his head. She sighed. He looked down at her as her eyes drifted open. Her mouth was full, moist, kissed-looking. He wanted to take it again.

  But he didn’t. “We have to go.”

  “I…um…”

  There it was, that innocence. That total vulnerability.

  His arousal intensified. It occurred to him that he could ease his need right here and now if he wanted. She wouldn’t say no.

  But he wouldn’t do that to her.

  She deserved better.

  Better than me, he thought. More than I can ever give her.

  Hell. He should do the right thing. Call this off right now.

  But he wanted her too damn much to stop now. And she wanted him, too. She’d said so.

  He’d get them out of this closet and into a decent bed. And that was as far as his scruples would force him to go.

  She murmured hesitantly, “I…suppose we have to see about a room.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” She sat up and pulled away from him. He resisted the urge to hold her there. She held out his handkerchief. “Um. Here. Thanks.”

  He took it and shoved it in a pocket. Then he watched for a moment, bemused, as she started fiddling with her hair, which looked a little wild now, hanging free, clinging to the black velvet dress.

  Realizing they couldn’t sit on the floor of that closet forever, he gathered his feet under him and stood. She looked up at him, clearly a little afraid, her white teeth worrying her full bottom lip. He reached down a hand.

  With his help, she rose to stand beside him.

  Her hand felt warm and soft in his. He wanted to touch it with his lips. But she didn’t give him the chance. She pulled away and started tugging on her dress, straightening it. And then she glanced down at her legs. A small sound of distress escaped her at the sight of her now ruined stockings.

  Price watched her little attempts to put herself in order, wanting to smile as much as he wanted to reach for her and ruin what little progress toward tidiness she’d made.

  She gave him a nervous glance. “I, um, suppose we have to go back up to the restaurant. I left my purse and my jacket.”

  His sigh was rueful. “And I forgot to pay the bill.”

  She was pulling at the bow on the back of her dress, not looking at him. But then the humor of the situation seemed to reach her. She met his eyes. They shared a smile.

  Damn. He did like her. He had always liked her. It was this wanting that wa
s new, that made him do things he shouldn’t—like take advantage of her, the woman who’d made his house a home for so long he couldn’t picture how he was going to get along when she was gone.

  He reached out, grasped her waist and turned her around. “Let me help.”

  “Thank you.” She pulled her hair out of his way over one shoulder, exposing the side of her neck, so white and pure. The earring dangling there was red as blood against her snowy skin.

  He wanted to put his lips there. Right beneath the earring…

  “Price?” She sent him a questioning glance over the shoulder she’d bared.

  “Oh. Sorry.” He shook himself and straightened the bow. “There.”

  She started to pull away. He held her still, unable to resist brushing a kiss on that shoulder, right at the place where the black velvet started. She shuddered a little when his lips touched her skin. His own body caught fire.

  Suppressing a groan, he pulled her back against him, grateful for the slightly crumpled black bow that would keep her from realizing just how ready he was to finish what they’d started.

  He kissed her ear, right over the top of that dangling earring; his teeth grazed the red stone. She stiffened, then sighed.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Her head bobbed up and down.

  While his body screamed, Don’t say it! he made himself ask, “Do you want to back out?”

  Her head went back and forth.

  He let himself breathe again. “Something is wrong, though. What is it?”

  “Oh, Price.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s just…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m a mess.”

  “No…”

  “Yes. My dress is all wrinkled. I have several huge runs in my nylons.”

  “It’s all right…”

  “No, it’s not. I’m…embarrassed. I don’t want to go back there, to the restaurant. One look at me, and all those people will know what we’ve been doing. And I’m scared to death about going down to the lobby and checking into the room.”

  Her scent was driving him crazy. It was as sweet as ever, but faintly musky now, a woman’s scent. He nuzzled her hair, loving the feel of it against his mouth. The strands felt so warm and smooth and alive.

  “Tell you what,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “You take the elevator down to the lobby. Find a rest room there and freshen up a little. There’s a row of gift shops around the corner from the registration desk. You know the ones I mean?”

  “I’m sure I could find them.”

  “There’s a fountain, in front of the gift shops. Wait for me there. I’ll take care of everything.”

  She turned in his arms and looked up at him solemnly. “But it’s not fair, that you should have to be responsible for all of it. I should—”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “I think I can handle it. Honestly.”

  “Ready?”

  Faith jumped. She’d been waiting at the fountain for about ten minutes—ten minutes that had seemed like forever and a day.

  She turned. Her heart was bouncing around like a paddleball inside her chest.

  Price held out her little black bolero jacket and her evening bag. She took them. “Thank you.” She shivered a little.

  “Here.” He took the jacket back and helped her to put it on. “Better?”

  She nodded. “Did you—?”

  “Everything’s handled. Are you ready to go to the room?”

  She had to swallow before she answered, “Yes.”

  He was looking at her; it was a stunningly intimate look, his eyes like blue velvet. He reached out slowly and touched the side of her face, catching and lifting a section of her hair that had caught beneath the collar of her jacket. He pulled it free and smoothed it over her shoulder.

  Faith stood transfixed throughout the whole process. Something had happened to him. He was so different with her, since those forbidden moments in the tiny housekeeper’s room upstairs. He seemed…possessive. And tender. As if he really did desire her.

  And he had said as much: I want to make love with you…

  Right then, his expression changed. His face was closed, suddenly. He stepped back. “Wait here. Just for a moment, okay?”

  He turned, leaving her before she could ask what he was doing. He didn’t go far, into one of the gift shops nearby. He came back minutes later, having bought nothing that she could see. “Let’s go.” He took her arm.

  She wondered vaguely what that was all about. But she didn’t ask. The room upstairs was waiting. Thoughts of what would happen there drove everything else from her mind.

  “This way.” He took her to the elevators again. They got on a car that was nearly full. Faith had taken off her hopelessly laddered panty hose in the rest room. She just knew everyone was staring at her bare, pale legs. She kept her chin high and her eyes straight ahead.

  The elevator moved upward, stopping every few floors to drop someone off or to pick up new passengers. By the time they reached the twenty-fifth floor, the elevator was carrying more people than when they’d started. Faith and Price had gradually worked their way toward the back.

  Price murmured, “This is us.” The car stopped, the doors whooshed open. Price guided her out through the press of people into a hallway. The doors slid shut, and Faith was grateful. She’d felt that everyone was staring at her, wondering what that disheveled, stockingless woman could be doing on the arm of such a handsome, self-assured man.

  Price took her hand again and led her off down a hallway. Soon enough, he stopped before a room. He stuck the card-key in the lock, and a little green light went on.

  He turned the handle and pushed the door inward and moved back for her to enter first.

  Her absolute certainty that this was all a dream redoubling with each second, Faith stepped into a small entranceway. To her left was a bathroom; straight ahead, a large living area. She moved forward into the living area, which was furnished with soft mauve-colored leather sofas and bleached oak tables. The room was seductively dim, lit only by the faint light that glowed in the bases of a few table lamps. A huge picture window took up most of the far wall. The filmy curtains were drawn back to reveal another spectacular view of the bay.

  Having no idea what to do with herself, Faith dropped her evening bag on one of the sofas, then went to the window and stared out. The clouds had cleared off even more. The brightest stars winked at her, and the crescent moon dangled high in the sky.

  Faith could hear Price moving behind her, opening doors, looking around. And then he materialized at her back. She felt the warmth of him.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and began peeling her jacket away.

  Once he’d slid the jacket down her arms, he tossed it lightly on a nearby chair. That done, he grasped her waist and pulled her against him, the way he had in that little closet, not too long ago. He kissed the top of her head, and then wrapped his arms around her.

  Faith settled back into his embrace. He felt so solid and good. She could have leaned on him forever, if such a thing was possible. Which it was not.

  “You’re so quiet,” he said into her ear. His breath was warm; it felt good against her cheek.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  He seemed to ponder her question, then told her, “Nothing, I guess.” He nuzzled the shape of her ear. She cuddled closer, liking the way it felt to have him caress her.

  She turned her head. Their lips met. She felt his tongue, probing, seeking. With a tiny gasp, she opened for him, turning in his arms at the same time, so that they were face-to-face. As her hands felt their way up the front of his silk shirt, she realized he’d already removed his jacket and taken off his tie.

  The kiss lasted an eternity. Once or twice, Price raised his head, but only to slant his mouth the other way and kiss her some more.

  When at last he actually pulled back and looked down at her, she was holding on to him, as
much for support as because it felt so good to touch him. He traced the side of her face with a finger, smoothing her hair back and then letting his hand trail down to her black velvet neckline. He traced the neckline, idly, his finger moving back and forth against her skin. She felt goose bumps rise in the wake of each stroke, a delicious sensation.

  “Such a pretty dress,” he said, grasping her shoulders, holding her away a little, admiring her.

  “Thank you.”

  He chuckled. “You are so well behaved.”

  She looked down, a bit flustered by his teasing.

  He caught her chin. “No. Look at me. Always. I love to watch your eyes.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded. “Such wide, wondering eyes.” His hand slid down over the velvet. It covered one breast.

  “Oh!” she said, and blinked.

  “Oh, yes,” he whispered, as if in reply.

  He rubbed his palm against her breast, where it crested beneath the velvet. She felt her nipple rising, drawing tighter. She knew he could feel it, too.

  His eyes looked darker, midnight blue. He went on, brushing his hand back and forth over the crest of her breast. “How do you get out of this pretty dress?”

  Her eyelids felt so heavy, like the rest of her, heavy and liquid and melting away…

  “Faith?”

  She gathered her scattered wits and managed to tell him, “Little hooks and a zipper. In back, beneath the bow.”

  His hands slid around her, bringing her close against him once more. He looked down at her and she looked up at him as he worked at the big bow behind her.

  “Ah.” He found his way beneath the bow. One by one, the hooks gave way. And then the zipper slowly parted. He was smiling now. Into her eyes.

  He took the sides of the dress and pulled them wide. She felt the air of the room slip along her ribs. He took the dress down and away, exposing her breasts as he did it, because her bra was sewn into the bodice. Instinctively she crossed her arms over herself.

  He was kneeling then, not looking at her, helping her to step out of the dress. When she had stepped clear, he rose and tossed it onto the big leather chair behind her, where her jacket already lay. She turned around to look as she heard it land in a rustling of velvet and silk.