But Court made no move to take advantage of the little surrender. Instead, he continued lightly, almost teasingly to sample first the corners of her mouth and then the fullness of her lower lip. As Leya began wondering at the restraint and lack of explosion in his passion, he lifted his mouth from hers and began a fragile trail of exploration along her cheek to the edge of her lowered lashes.
Just as his lips dropped the smallest of kisses on her sensitive eyelid, his hand, which had been lying along her waist, moved. It slid upward to rest a fraction of an inch below the curve of her breast. There was a sense of impending intimacy in the touch that made Leya’s pulse race.
“Oh, Court,” she breathed, every nerve in her body tightening itself into a high-strung tension that was as exciting as it was uncomfortable. She felt she ought to be pushing his hand away, refusing him too many liberties, but she couldn’t do that because he hadn’t yet taken those liberties. So far, the depth of the intimacy was only implied.
“You look very lovely in emerald green,” he offered in the softest of whispers, and the hand that had been waiting under her breast shifted once again. Leya waited for it to close possessively over the small, full curve of the green bodice, knowing she should resist when it did so. For a brief instant, she would know the feel of his hand and something in her wanted that.
But his fingers did not move to explore her breast as she had expected. Instead, he picked up the long, thick braid of sable-brown hair and toyed with it. Slowly, he lifted the length of it and drew it around her exposed, vulnerable throat, raising his head to drink in the picture she made.
“I think I know why cavemen were fond of dragging their women home by the hair. Something rather primitively sensual about the notion.” The gold in Court’s eyes flowed into the shadowy brown, melting it, turning it to molten amber.
Leya watched him from beneath her lashes, fiercely aware of the rope of hair around her throat. “No,” she managed in faint amusement. “The ones who got dragged home by their hair were the ones who couldn’t think for themselves.”
“And you’re much too smart to wind up in that category?” he murmured, tightening the braid ever so slightly.
“Yes.” It was the simple truth.
“It isn’t merely a question of intelligence, Leya,” he grated, lowering his head once again to graze upon her parted lips.
“No?” she countered with amused scorn. She felt his mouth nibbling gently on hers and wanted to grab him and hold him still so that she could learn the full impact of his kiss. Her fingers tightened in the hair at the back of his head as if she would follow through with the impulse. This teasing, tantalizing string of caresses she was receiving was not enough.
“No.” Court smiled. She could feel the smile against her mouth and wanted to use her teeth very carefully, warningly on his lower lip. But she didn’t quite dare. “No,” he muttered again on her mouth. “It’s not just a matter of intelligence. There are some women, perhaps only one in a lifetime, that a man wants to be very sure of. One he would like to chain with golden bonds…!”
Leya shivered and knew he felt it. “Do you want to put golden chains on me, Court?” Her words were barely audible as she sensed the quickening of her breath and knew his fingers had released the braid to stray to her throat.
“Yes!”
There was unexpected passion in the single word, but it was not echoed in his caress, and Leya stirred restlessly against him, beginning to seek a closer touch, more of his warmth.
“I think,” she murmured daringly, uncertain of her motives but knowing she wanted to provoke him a bit further, “that you have the makings of a rather possessive man.”
His fingers stroked the base of her throat, drifting downward in lazy threat, and Leya shifted without conscious volition, turning into the caress, like a small cat.
“I am a very possessive man,” he stated quietly. “And I will be a very possessive lover.”
“When you find a woman who will let you put a chain on her?” Leya smiled in mocking challenge, watching him through slitted lashes.
“I don’t plan to ask her permission,” he drawled. “The chain will be in place soon enough, whether she likes it or not.”
“Because you’re so much smarter than she is?”
“Because I’m so much stronger and more ruthless than she is,” he corrected at once. “And I’ve learned how to set priorities.”
“You must feed that ego of yours several pounds of raw meat a day. It certainly isn’t undernourished!” Leya’s eyes gleamed as she met his opening examining gaze. With her hands, she traced a path through his hair to his temples, where only the faintest hint of gray could be seen in full light. It wasn’t detectable at all in the shadows tonight.
“Neither is yours,” he retorted with a small grin. “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you, Leya Brandon?”
“Does that bother you?”
“Do I look bothered?” he growled, swooping gently to touch his tongue to the tip of her ear.
“No,” she admitted ruefully, her eyes closing in response to his tiny caress.
“That’s because I know what I’m doing, little Leya.”
“And what exactly are you doing, Court?”
“Baiting my trap,” he explained at once. The fingers he was using to trace patterns on her throat hovered at the green gem now.
“Are you going to explain that?” she demanded, wondering if he would touch her more intimately in a few seconds. He was so close and his hand was warm and inviting…
“No,” he murmured cheerfully. “I’m not. There will be time enough later.”
“A man of instant decision,” she taunted, turning her cheek toward his questing, sampling mouth. It was all becoming too much, she thought in gathering frustration. She wanted him to touch her, try to take her by storm. She would have to halt him eventually, of course, but in that moment she longed to know the range and depth of his passion and desire. The urge to find out if he really wanted her and wasn’t simply playing with her was overwhelming. What was it about this man that affected her so fiercely? She couldn’t remember knowing such a physical impatience in herself before in her life. Not even when she had thought herself so much in love with Alex.
“A man who knows what he wants,” Court rasped in soft agreement with her teasing assessment.
But if he truly wanted her, why wasn’t he pushing and taking and demanding with his hands and his lips? Leya wondered distractedly. There had been nothing timid about his approach earlier in the evening! But, then, there was nothing particularly timid about him now, she acknowledged uncomfortably. It was this waiting, teasing, tantalizing quality in him that was frustrating. Frustrating and intriguing, she realized vaguely, her fingers sliding to the muscles of his shoulders and beginning a gentle, kneading massage.
Frustrating, intriguing, and…Suddenly, Leya smiled inwardly. And safe. That was the missing explanation. For all his dangerous words, he was letting her know with his body that she was safe with him. Or at least as safe as she wanted to be.
With a sigh of satisfaction at having solved the puzzle, Leya relaxed against Court’s chest, deepening her own kisses as she framed his rugged face between her palms. Her self-confidence flowed serenely through her blood even as she deliberately assumed the aggressive role. The excitement was like a fire in the pit of her stomach as she kissed Court full on the mouth, probing into his warmth with the tip of her tongue. She wanted his response, needed it…
She felt his almost stoic resistance to the torment of her tongue and sought to overcome it. Her body twisted against him, and her nails gently raked the side of his tanned cheek. She imagined herself in roles she’d never played: a femme fatale, a seductress, a siren.
The urgency in her grew, unchained now by any nagging, feminine fears. She was safe with this man. She could manage him. He was willing to let her set the pace…
“Give a woman a little taste of power…” Court groaned hoarsely under her so
ft assault, and Leya felt the reckless laughter bubble up inside herself.
“I didn’t notice you giving it to me,” she husked. “I thought I was taking it!” She left off the intimate duel she had initiated with his tongue and went in search of new territory to conquer. She found it in the vulnerable tip of his earlobe. Delicately, she closed her teeth on it and was rewarded by the shudder she felt in his hard, massive frame.
“Ummm,” he growled softly, his hands moving on her back as he tightened his hold slightly. “For someone who’s been busy refusing my invitations to bed, you’re certainly turning into a little temptress all of a sudden!”
“That’s because I’ve finally figured you out,” Leya whispered exultantly, her breath coming quickly between her parted lips as she ran her hands over the front of his shirt and played with a button or two.
“And what’s the big secret?” he challenged, eyes gleaming in the darkness.
“You’re not nearly so wicked as you’d have me believe,” she informed him, leaning her head back and smiling at him with lazy invitation. “You said it, yourself. You’re wearing the clothes of a gentleman tonight, and deep down you’re going to behave like one.”
“Ah,” Court exclaimed as if seeing the light. “You’re feeling quite safe with me now, is that it? None of the fears you almost admitted to earlier?”
“None.”
“Not even a little nagging fear that you might just possibly be off in your judgment of me?” he persisted easily.
“Nope.” Leya laughed very softly, her eyes glowing.
“Who am I to argue with a woman’s reasoning and logic?” he murmured, lowering his head to nuzzle the cord of her throat.
“Who, indeed?” Leya quipped, wrapping her arms around his neck again and holding him close.
She plunged in where she had left off, glorying in each new response she was able to elicit from him. But with each shudder and groan and husky exclamation she drew forth from Court, there was an equally intense reaction in her own body.
The moment came when his large, powerful hand floated possessively upward to cup her breast, and instead of pushing it away as she had once thought to do, Leya made no protest. She was far too caught up in her own needs now. The wish to draw forth his male desires had unwittingly fed her own. She was aware of the touch of his fingers as they sought the nipple beneath the silky material of her dress, but her reaction was to arch against his hand, not push it aside.
“Oh!” she mouthed, feeling the tip of her breast harden. A shudder tore through her, and she shut her eyes against the dizzying weakness that assailed her frame. The thin lace of her bra offered no protection and through the two layers of fabric, Court’s fingers stirred the other nipple to life with a coaxing, seductive pattern that sent ripples of pleasure along Leya’s nerves.
Her soft moans were muffled against the side of his neck as Court kissed and then nipped the exposed portion of her shoulder. She felt the touch of his teeth and dug her nails into the fabric of his jacket.
And she never quite knew when the moment came that Court actually reversed the seductive assault, making her the one under attack. One moment, Leya felt herself marvelously, supremely in command of the situation, reveling in her power; the next, she was helplessly responding to the increasing urgency in his kiss and in his hands.
She was only dimly aware that Court had suddenly captured her shaking, questing fingers as they searched for a way beneath his shirt, holding her palm to his mouth and turning his lips into it for a second before smiling beguilingly, sensuously down into her passion-filled eyes.
“I think it’s time we went upstairs, darling,” he whispered huskily. “This is much too public a place for what comes next!”
“Next?” she repeated, feeling idiotic, but unable to think clearly.
“I’m going to make love to you, my sweet Leya, and I want the privacy of my own bed in which to do it!”
Somehow, he got her to her feet, absorbing the weight of her as she leaned heavily against him. With his arm supporting her around her waist, Court walked her wordlessly toward the stairs. When she turned her head to look up at him helplessly, he merely smiled with promise and undisguised desire.
Leya felt the stairs disappearing one by one beneath her feet, and a small voice in the most distant corner of her mind began yelling faintly that time was running out. Soon she would be on the landing and then in the hall outside his room…
How had it come to this? Leya shook her head slightly, partly in an attempt to clear it and partly in an attempt to understand what had gone wrong. She hadn’t intended to go to his room tonight, she remembered that much very distinctly. No, she had kissed him because it had seemed eminently safe to kiss him. He had been restrained, gentlemanly. He had let her control the embrace, contenting himself with teasing, tantalizing caresses, which were unthreatening.
Court brought them to a halt outside his room, inserting his key into the lock, one arm still firmly around Leya. Unthreatening, she reminded herself grimly, as she raised her lashes to meet his eyes. The realization of what had happened hit her fully just as Court swung open the door and started to propel her gently into the room.
“No!” she breathed wryly, refusing to budge. “It’s not going to be that easy, Court Gannon!”
“You mean,” he soothed, swiveling to face her as she stood planted on the threshold, “it isn’t going to be that easy for you to back out of it after having come this far.”
“I didn’t get this far on my own!” she flung back, her self-control returning in a fierce rush as the full precariousness of her situation hit her.
“No,” he agreed, his mouth quirking upward. “You dragged me right along with you.”
“Don’t blame me for any wrong ideas you’ve gotten!” she declared regally, crossing her arms in front of herself and glaring at him. “All I started were a few kisses in the sitting room downstairs…”
“Don’t you think it’s time you finished what you started?” he interrupted, stepping close and curling his hand around the nape of her neck.
“There seems to be some question here of just who was seducing whom!” she stormed, feeling abused.
“Yes, but I was hoping you wouldn’t realize it until tomorrow morning,” he complained sadly.
“You admit you planned everything that happened? Letting me think you were going to behave like a gentleman and then allowing me to…to…” Words failed her.
“To seduce yourself and me, too? Well, yes. It seemed a simple enough plan.” He shrugged.
Leya stared at him, thoroughly amused and thoroughly annoyed by the rueful expression on Court’s hard features. She bit her lip and then shook her head in exasperation and sudden affection.
“Oh, Court, you idiot,” she murmured softly. “I can’t possibly go to bed with a man I’ve only known two days! After this vacation is over, we’ll both be going our separate ways. I couldn’t bear a casual little affair like that, don’t you see? If that’s really all you want or need, it would be best if we part friends tonight…” Her voice trailed off beneath his glittering gaze. His mouth twisted in self-mockery.
“Do you really believe that?” he whispered, the fingers behind her neck tightening. “Do you really believe all I’m after with you is a vacation fling?” He gave her the slightest of shakes.
“But, Court, what else can there be?” she exclaimed unhappily.
“As much as we want there to be, Leya,” he said simply. “And speaking for myself, I want a great deal!”
“Oh, Court!”
“When you look at me like that,” he muttered, “I have to believe you want there to be a great deal between us, too!”
Leya sucked in her breath, her eyes shining brighter than the gem at her throat. In the face of the emotions flaring between them, she could find nothing intelligible to say. It was too soon to hope and too late not to do exactly that. In desperation, she resorted to a bit of poor humor.
“Court, this is a
ll so sudden,” she whispered on a gurgle of laughter.
A slow smile crossed his hard face, reaching his eyes, and he tugged her close against him, letting her bury her heated face in his jacket. For a long moment, he held her that way, saying nothing at all, and she was content.
Eventually he released her, setting her a foot away and retaining a firm clasp on her shoulders while he gazed perceptively down into her questioning face.
“But no more games, Leya. We’re both too old for that sort of thing!” he said tersely, and she winced at the forcefulness in him. He meant it.
“Men seem to think anything that doesn’t end in bed is a game!” she accused, making the same point, she realized, for the second time that evening.
“It is,” he avowed at once.
“That’s not true, Court!”
“It is for us,” he said gently.
“I won’t be rushed,” she stated proudly, lifting her chin in automatic defiance.
“But that’s exactly what I want to do,” he retorted, his fingers digging almost painfully into her shoulders. “Rush you off your feet and into bed where I can make very, very sure of you.”
She stepped back, out from underneath his hands, and eyed him with a mixture of speculation and longing. “You,” she declared on a muffled groan, “need a good lesson in the evils of possessiveness!”
“I can’t help the way I am.” He refused to look apologetic. Instead, his tortoiseshell eyes seemed to be eating her.
She hesitated, feeling the undeniable pull on her senses and the equally undeniable instinct to flee while she still could. She knew she was in danger of falling in love with this man she had known so short a time, and she wanted desperately to believe he might be falling in love with her. But she must control the situation until they both were sure. With Court Gannon, she must play it safe, very, very safe…