Blue Velvet

  She could feel that arousal brush against her as he moved and she unconsciously opened her thighs to welcome him. She wanted to welcome all of him, touch, smell, sight. She wanted him to sur­round her in every way possible.

  "You want me?" he asked, his eyes blazing almost pure gold. His hand traveled down to rest possessively between her thighs, not moving or caressing. However, just the warm heaviness of it against that most private part of her so vulnerably open to him, filled her with unbearable excite­ment. His voice was harsh with restraint. "Here? Now? You're ready for me?"

  "I want you." It was a gasp. "Now!"

  He closed his eyes and breathed a shuddering sigh of relief. "Thank heaven, I didn't know how long I could keep up this foreplay. I'm nearly wild." He was parting her thighs with frantic eagerness, his fingers now moving, caressing, exploring. "You're so pretty here." He lowered his head to her belly, gently nipping the soft rounded flesh. "And you are ready for me." He laughed huskily. "I wanted to make sure. You're so beautifully tight I was afraid I'd hurt you if you weren't as wild for me as I am for you."

  He didn't have to worry about that, she thought hazily. She was aching frantically with a feverish desire for completion.

  He was between her thighs, his hard warmth nudging against her and he suddenly smiled down at her with loving sweetness. "I'll be careful," he whispered. "There's no way I'd ever want to hurt you. I told you I know how to care for treasures now."

  Poignant tenderness and passion were in his voice and his eyes. . . . They were so beautiful she felt tears rise in her own. Everything was beauti­ful, his golden eyes, the sensual curve of his lips, the brilliant coral orchids on the wall beyond his shoulder, but most of all the feel of him as he became part of her.

  "Relax." There was a touch of impatience in his voice. "I told you I wouldn't hurt you. Don't you trust me?"

  Of course she trusted him, but there was something the matter. There was a hint of troubled hurt in his face and she, couldn't bear it. Nothing must spoil the beauty of what was happening to both of them, she thought dreamily. Not when she could take care of the problem so easily.

  She surged upward with determined forceful-ness and there was a sharp piercing pain that was immediately drowned in the equally sharp delight of being full of him. She smiled happily up at him. "Better?"

  "Better," he echoed blankly, his face stunned. He flexed spasmodically and a great shudder racked him. He closed his eyes. "Oh, Lord, yes, that's better."

  "Good." Her hands caressed his hips lovingly. "I want you to be happy, Beau."

  His lids lifted and he looked down at her with a curious expression of torment. "I know you do," he said hoarsely. "Everyone has to be happy even if it means the giving has to go on forever. Because we all keep taking, don't we?" His lips twisted bitterly. "Even me. For once in my life I wanted to give, but I'm taking too." One hand reached up to gently stroke her cheek. "And the damnable part of it is that I can't stop now."

  She was bewildered. She'd wanted to help him, but he looked so sad now. "Beau, should I—"

  "Shhh." His fingers were on her lips. "Hush, everything's all right. I'm going to take, but I'll find a way of giving too. Maybe it will all even out." He was moving with a slow stroking thrust, letting her get used to him. It wasn't easy for him to main­tain that control. She was conscious of the leashed urgency in him struggling to break the bonds of restraint. She could feel the knotted muscles of his hips beneath her palms. The stroking was hotly tantalizing but still she wanted more. She wanted that primitive animal passion he'd shown her before. She needed it.

  "Beau." Her murmur was feverish as her nails dug unconsciously into the flesh of his hips. She surged against him urgently. "Please, Beau."

  She could see the conflict on his face and then he gave a helpless groan. "Kate. Oh, damn, Kate." And thrust forward forcefully, taking her breath, burning, pressing, thrusting until she was almost mindless with pleasure.

  Treasure. A carousel playing a haunting melody, Beau's golden eyes, his hand in hers walking through the rain forest, a mocking Southern drawl with a note of underlying tenderness, courage, honesty, passion, this beautiful, throbbing rhythm. So many treasures. He was giving them all to her and when he gave the final radiant gift that made rapture seem commonplace, it was no more precious than the other treasures he'd heaped upon her.

  Her head was cradled in the hollow of his shoul­der and she could feel the hard thud of his heart beneath her ear. Its cadence was gradually less­ening, as was her own. His hand automatically tangled in her curls and began to thread through them with lazy contentment. "So silky," he mur­mured. "Did I tell you how much I loved those soft little ringlets?"

  She nodded. "You're certainly a very tactile per­son, Beau," she charged teasingly, then suddenly chuckled. "Not that I'd be so ungrateful as to com­plain in the present set of circumstances."

  She could feel him stiffen against her and his hand paused in her hair. "No, you wouldn't com­plain no matter what I did to you," he said quietly. "You wouldn't care to tell me how you happen to be a virgin? I received the distinct impression from the lady I was with in Alvarez's bar that you were every bit as experienced as she."

  "Did you?" she asked, blissfully uncaring. "I was in there quite often prying Jeffrey away from the whiskey bottle. She probably misunderstood." Her head lifted suddenly as she gazed at him in troubled uncertainty. "Does it bother you?"

  "You're damn right it bothers me. I'm not accus­tomed to deflowering virgins. Why the devil didn't you tell me?" His lips twisted. "Lord, I was even tell­ing you what a meager price I was exacting for my services."

  "It was cheap," she said quietly. "Getting Jeffrey away from Castellano was important to me. In comparison the other didn't matter at all."

  "It was important enough to keep you a virgin until now."

  "The men I've come across seem to look upon women as something to be used." Her tone became fierce. "I won't be used! I have worth."

  "Yes, you have worth." He touched her cheek with gossamer gentleness. "It can't have been very easy for you considering the life you've led."

  She shrugged. "I can take care of myself. It's been easier lately with Julio around."

  "And before Julio was around?"

  "I just told anyone who bothered me that I had VD," she said simply. "Jeffrey said it would work and most of the time it did. Men seem to be very frightened when you mention that."

  He chuckled. "It's a wonder you ever got away with it if you looked at them the way you're looking at me." Her eyes were as clear and solemn as a little girl's. "I don't think you've ever learned to lie very well."

  "You're right. I hate it." She suddenly shivered. "But it's much easier when you're frightened."

  He felt a sudden fierce anger at the thought of Kate alone and afraid. It was so intense it caught him off guard. He couldn't remember ever before experiencing that sense of outrage. He had to draw a deep breath and consciously force his tense muscles to relax. "They must have been very faint-

  hearted types," he said gruffly. "I guarantee I wouldn't have been so easy to get rid of even if I'd believed you."

  Her eyes widened. "You wouldn't?"

  He grasped her by the shoulders and tumbled her back into his arms. "Nope. Not with a very spe­cial lady like you." He brushed a butterfly kiss on the tip of her nose. "First, I'd have sent you to the best doctor available to start your cure. Then I'd have whisked you away and spent your entire con­valescent period showing you how many wonderful ways we could pleasure each other with no danger at all to either of us."

  "What ways?" Her eyes were bright with curios­ity-

  "I'll demonstrate later. It loses something in the telling."

  "Well, I don't see how it could have been any bet­ter than what we've just had." She raised her head to gaze at him mistily. "It was so beautiful."

  "Was it, Kate?" His voice was husky. She was so dear, like a happy little girl. "I'm glad it was like that for you."


  "Oh, it was." Her blue eyes were full of dreams. "You made it that way, Beau. I wish I could give you something just as valuable." She brushed her lips lovingly over the pulse beat in the hollow of his throat. "I'd like to give you rare spices, precious stones, and one hundred twenty talents of gold."

  "One hundred twenty talents?" Beau asked, puzzled.

  She nodded. "That's what the Queen of Sheba brought as gifts to Solomon."

  The creases in the corners of his eyes deepened as he laughed up at her. "I should have known." He shook his head ruefully. "That brain of yours is filled with the most amazing trivia." He kissed her quickly to banish the troubled frown that was beginning to form. "Fascinating trivia from a

  fascinating lady. And for your information, my services are not to be bought with one hundred twenty talents of gold. They're considered abso­lutely priceless in some circles. So you may keep your gifts, Kate."

  "Really?" Her eyes were suddenly dancing with mischief. "I bet I know one gift you'll accept." She pulled away from him and jumped to her feet." "You, being such a very tactile gentleman." Ignor­ing his growl of protest, she picked up the white caftan and pulled it over her head. She ran to the far corner of the room and began turning a crank high up on the wall. "This took an entire week for Julio and me to set up, but I think it was worth it. It's rigged with a pulley outside."

  She heard an exclamation of surprise behind her and looked up at the ceiling that was rolling neatly back to reveal leafy branches and moonlit sky. "I wanted to lie under the stars." She glanced over her shoulder and made a face. "Unfortunately, I can't do this very often. Birds seem to find my flow­ers too attractive. I woke up one morning and found a parrot trying to build a nest in my orchids." The roof was completely rolled back now and she released the crank and strolled back to him. "I thought it was very inconsiderate of her since she had millions of other orchids in the for­est to choose from." She dropped to her knees beside him. "I don't see why she had to . . ." She trailed off. "Why are you looking at me so strangely?"

  "Was I?" he asked absently. The lamplight was touching her sun-streaked curls with an aureole of radiance. The same radiance that was in her eyes. He pulled her down into his arms cradling her and pressing her head once more into the hollow of his shoulder. "I didn't realize I was doing it. Perhaps I'm not used to women who live in tree houses with roofs that roll back so they can see the stars."

  "Well, then they've missed something really spe­cial," she said staunchly, nestling closer. "Look at that night sky. It seems close enough so you can reach out and touch it." She chuckled. "That should appeal to you. Midnight blue velvet for you to stroke. Do you like your gift, Beau?"

  "Oh yes, I like my gift." The soft warm breeze stirred the branches above them and the scent of rich earth, wild flowers, and wet grass were all around them now. The sky was midnight blue vel­vet and the stars were as clear and beautiful as Kate's eyes. His hand began to stroke her curls once again as he fought against the most unmanly lump that persisted in forming in his throat. "My lovely, silken Kate and a blue velvet sky. How could I help but like it?"

  Six

  The first gray light of dawn was filtering through the glossy green of the leaves above her and she shivered unconsciously and drew closer to Beau's comforting warmth. And he was warm, she thought drowsily, warm and hard and yet. . .

  She opened her eyes to see his face only inches from her own and felt a queer tugging at her heart. He looked so vulnerable with all the cynicism and mockery banished by sleep. His long lashes were tipped with gold at the ends. She hadn't realized that, and his bronze hair had those same golden streaks woven through its darkness. He was so beautiful. She reached up with a careful finger to touch one of those lashes casting shadows on the hard plane of his cheek. The lash fluttered and she jerked her finger away quickly. She didn't want to wake him. When he was awake he would assume once more all the armor he used to guard himself from the world. When he was asleep, she could pretend that he belonged to her; awake such fanta­sizing about him was hard to sustain. The sadness of the thought served to jolt her out of her lovely dreamy euphoria.

  Of course, he didn't belong to her. A night of passion meant nothing to a man. She should know that by now. Julio and Jeffrey had been prime examples of that philosophy and the other men she'd been exposed to over the years had been just the same. However special last night had been to her, she mustn't expect the same response from Beau. They were almost strangers and he might be equally tender and loving to any woman who'd given him sexual pleasure. How did she know? How did she know anything about the way he thought or felt?

  She began to edge away, careful not to wake him. She felt a sudden desire to put up a few defenses of her own. She was the vulnerable one, not Beau. Not only by the nature of their bargain, but by her love for him. Last night, try as she might, she'd been unable to keep that knowledge at bay. She loved him and for her that emotion was synony­mous with commitment. A commitment with Beau was very dangerous but she had no choice now. She only knew one way to love and the affection she felt for Jeffrey and Julio seemed minute in compar­ison.

  With the utmost care she slid off the mattress and stood up. She gathered a few towels from the chest and snatched her white caftan from the floor beside the mattress. Then she let herself quietly out the door.

  Thirty minutes later she'd bathed in the pool and was stretched out on her towel on the mossy bank basking in the early morning sunshine. Even this early the tropical rays were direct and hot on her naked flesh but she wasn't tempted to take shelter under the overhanging trees or in the cold clear pool. It was pure sensual bliss to feel that marvelous heat soaking into her bones. She'd always loved the sun. How did people exist in frigid climates where ice and snow were the norm?

  Ice. Beau had spent years on the ice as a voca­tion. Strange to think of that. Beau seemed to be meant for the sun just as she was. Golden eyes, golden skin, and that easy golden charm. Well, maybe not so easy, she thought drowsily, there had been moments when he'd displayed a complex­ity and harshness that had surprised and bewil­dered her. In fact, those moments had been quite frequent in their short acquaintance. It was just difficult to remember them when his half-tender, half-savage lovemaking was still so fresh in her memory. A golden memory too. ...

  The deft hands parting her thighs were strong and gentle and very familiar. Beau. A happy smile curved her lips, though she didn't bother to open her eyes. It seemed far too much trouble and it was so pleasant just lying here, letting the powerful sun pour down upon her and Beau flow into her with one slow easy stroke. Once joined he seemed content and was still. She could feel his hands slowly stroking her curls before moving down to caress with gossamer gentleness her shoulders and breasts and the soft flesh of her belly. The sun was hot upon her, his hands gently caressing her and his manhood both hotly passionate and warmly affectionate within her. She'd never imag­ined the two could exist side by side and she opened her eyes to tell him so.

  His face was heavy and intent above her and his lips beautifully sensual as he began to flex slowly, almost lazily, within her.

  "Beau."

  "Shhh," he said huskily. "Don't speak. You look like a lovely sacrifice to Ra in the sunlight. I couldn't resist coming into you and accepting in his place. Just relax and let me play. We have all the time in the world and I love to feel the heat of you around me."

  His hands were drifting lightly over her, touch­ing, caressing, and touching again. Not demand­ing, just grasping and then releasing much as he might delicately stroke the feathers of a bird before releasing it to let it fly away. His rhythm within her had the same delicacy and possessiveness and her lashes drifted shut once more.

  "That's right, Kate." Beau's murmur was velvet soft. "I told you I wanted to flow over you like golden rain. Just let me warm and fulfill you." His fingers were between her thighs skillfully search­ing and caressing and suddenly she inhaled sharply, her lashes flying open.

  "Like that?" Beau smil
ed lazily down at her. "I thought you would. I love to hear you gasp and look at me all wide-eyed like a little girl who's just been given a present." He suddenly thrust forward, touching, teasing, filling, and she was abruptly no longer even a little hit drowsy.

  "I'm sorry to disappoint you but you're not warming me now, Beau." Her voice was a trifle breathless. "You're burning."

  "That's the risk you run when you lie naked in the sun," he said thickly, his hands sliding around to cup her buttocks so as to bring himself deeper into that heat that was now turning molten for both of them. "But I'll try to make this particular burn as pleasurable as possible."

  She found he was a man of his word. Burn her he did, but it was with a flame so exquisite ft would have been pure agony to quench it. It was strangely unreal to be lying here in this little circle of bril­liant sunlight in the lush dusky greenness of the rain forest. It was as if the two of them were envel­oped in a spotlight that was ambivalently both starkly revealing and blurred to a dreamlike haze.

  Heat without, heat within. Silence except for the sound of Beau's harsh uneven breathing and her own occasional gasp and murmur of satisfaction and delight, the scent of soap, musk, and the earth beneath them. Heat without, burning within. Beau's golden eyes narrowed intently on her face, his hips moving with smooth explosive power, the patches of sky through the trees, not midnight but sapphire velvet now. Burning without, burning within. Beau's hands lifting, her own cry, almost a sob, the deepening, the power, the burning. Oh, dear heaven, the sweet heady burning! Within, without, surrounding, consuming. The burning!