Renegade Page 8

  His mouth covered hers as the movements increased in depth and power. She shivered. It was....beautiful! She could feel him inside her. She was expanding. He was...potent. She'd never dreamed...!

  Her mouth opened under his as her body opened for him. She felt him fill her. She could barely contain him. Stars were flashing behind her closed eyelids as the pleasure became a flame. It was burning her, pulsing, rising, exploding in every cell of her body. She sobbed, her arms frantic as they reached around him. Her legs curled over his powerful thighs, feeling the muscles as he increased the power and rhythm of his slow invasion.

  "I...never...knew!" she cried rhythmically. "Please. Please don't stop, don't stop, don't...stop!" His mouth moved against her throat hungrily. "I can make it even better. Slide your legs inside mine," he bit off breathlessly. "Hurry, baby!"

  She didn't understand, until she followed the urgent command. And then her body began to burst with unexpected pleasure. She continued to sob helplessly, her teeth suddenly biting into Cash's muscular shoulder, her body in an arch of pleasure that was surely enough to break bones...

  Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard his voice at her ear, husky and hoarse and fierce, whispering, "Give me a baby, Tippy...!"

  She shot off into the sun, shattering with ecstasy, a tiny helpless scream of pleasure ripping from her throat as she went unconscious for a space of seconds. When she regained her ability to think, she heard him groan at her ear and she felt the harsh, helpless shudder of his powerful body above her as he found his own fulfillment. It never seemed to end. She held him, comforted him, while he convulsed in her arms. She kissed him tenderly, her heart full, her body full, belonging as she'd never belonged to anyone in her life.

  He collapsed on her finally, his heartbeat shaking her damp body in the darkness. She clung to him with her eyes closed. Don't let it end, she whispered silently. Don't let it end. Don't let it end....

  She didn't realize that she was whispering it to him, or that the sound of her husky voice pleading for his body had caused a sudden, impossible arousal.

  She'd heard girlfriends talk. She knew that a man's body wasn't capable of what his was already doing. She opened her mouth to tell him, but he was moving on her again. This time, be wasn't slow, or hesitant, or tender.

  His hand caught in her hair and his mouth crushed down over hers. His hips pushed down against hers insistently, with a quick, sharp pressure that lifted her sensitized body into sudden, agonizing fulfillment.

  She cried out helplessly into his devouring mouth, her legs gripping his hips, her arms holding him furiously against her. He felt her instant satisfaction, but his own came more slowly. He hated her for what was happening to him. He couldn't stop. He couldn't hold back. He was desperate to taste that unbridled ecstasy he'd just had with her. He had to have it again. He had to!

  His body riveted hers while his mouth grew even more invasive, more insistent on her mouth. It was taking so long...! "Slow.. .down," she whispered into his mouth, her voice tender, breathless. "Slow down. It's all right. It's all right!"

  "Damn you...!" he bit off, his voice throbbing with the desire he couldn't hide.

  "It's all right," she whispered again. "I want you, too. I want you so much, so badly.

  Don't rush. Don't resent what you feel. Slow down, Cash. I'll do anything for you.

  Anything! Tell me what you want."

  The ardent little speech made the sense of helplessness go away. He felt more in

  control. The pace of his lovemaking slowed into tenderness.

  "Tell me what to do," she whispered again at his ear, clinging to him. "You can

  have... any thing you want!"

  His mouth covered her eyes, her cheekbones, her nose. His breath shook with every

  kiss. "I've never had it like this," he said harshly.

  Her fingers traced his mouth, his chin, his strong neck. "I never knew it could feel

  like this," she whispered. "I thought it always hurt...."

  "Doesn't it?" he murmured at her breasts. "It hurts...so good!"

  "Yes!"

  He rolled over, holding her above him while his hands guided her hips. He could

  hardly see her face, but he could feel her faint embarrassment. "Move up a little.

  That's it...!"

  She obeyed him, feeling his body grow even more potent. She groaned. "What's wrong?" he asked quickly. "I don't know.. .anything!" she ground out. "I watch movies, I read books, but I don't know how...!" "I'll teach you what you need to know," he said huskily, pulling her down to him. "You're perfect just as you are," he added as his mouth found her lips. "The most perfect lover.. .I've ever had!" That reminded her that she wasn't the first of them, and she started to speak, but he rolled over again, pinning her, and the pleasure exploded in little bursts. She gasped. "It's been years," he ground out at her breasts. "And even the best...was nothing compared to this!" She caught her breath. He meant it. She could tell. "I want a child," he whispered helplessly as his body moved into total possession. "Oh, God, Tippy...I want a...child!"

  She went under like a drowning swimmer. She heard him whispering urgently as the pleasure began to seep into her, her body following him mindlessly as he positioned her, taught her how to touch him, how to take him. It was the most beautiful few minutes of her entire life. Right up until the last helpless little shudder of fulfillment, she never thought she could live through it...

  TIPPY WAS VAGUELY AWARE that he was dressing. She heard the movement of clothing on skin. She blinked. It wasn't morning. She looked at the clock. It had big numbers so that she could see it without her glasses. It was four in the morning.

  "You're leaving?" she asked blankly.

  He didn't answer. He finished dressing and sat down in the armchair beside the bed to put on his shoes. "But...it isn't even dawn," she persisted. He still didn't answer her. She heard him stand up. The bedroom door opened, letting in light from the living

  room that they hadn't stopped to turn off when they first came home. He turned and

  looked at her in the light, at her creamy skin over the blue and pink floral sheet she held to her breasts. She looked.. .loved.

  His face was hard, devoid of feeling.

  "Can't you say something?" she asked, insecure and trying to hide it.

  "We were both irresponsible," he bit off. "This was stupid. But you started it."

  She sighed. "Oh, Lord, it's the hair shirt and the flail," she murmured, throwing herself onto her back.

  He couldn't believe he'd heard her say that. He glowered at her. "I am not marrying you!" he continued angrily. "But if there's a child, I'll be responsible for it. And I'll want to know!"

  She stretched, drawing the sheet deliberately down to her waist so that the rosy tips of her breasts were visible. She knew he was looking at them. It made her feel odd. Sensuous. All woman. She'd never felt like that in her life. She felt as if she belonged to someone, for the first time in her life. She smiled to herself. "Will you, really?" she murmured, glancing at his set features.

  He couldn't help looking at her. He drew in a harsh breath.

  "You have the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen," he said involuntarily.

  She kicked off the covers and arched up to give him a better view. "How about the

  rest of me?" she asked huskily.

  "I'll die trying to forget." He turned away again.

  "Why do you have to?" she asked. "I haven't asked you for a single thing."

  His eyes closed. "I don't want ties," he said harshly. "Fine. Don't expect me to buy

  you one for Christmas." He glanced at her and bit off a laugh. "Damn it!" She

  stretched lazily. "Wouldn't you like to stay until dawn?" she asked.

  "It wouldn't do any good if I did. I'm wasted. And I imagine you are, too."

  She sighed. "A little."

  His eyes were involuntarily possessive.

  "All my friends have lovers, and they say that no man ca
n do it two times in a row,"

  she remarked.

  One eyebrow rose. "They're right."

  She stared at him.

  He shrugged. "Abstinence," he said stubbornly.

  She kept staring at him.

  He cleared his throat. "Abstinence and the right woman."

  Both eyebrows went up.

  "What do you want from me?" he asked quietly.

  That put things in perspective, because he had suspicion written all over him.

  "I have money in the bank," she pointed out, pulling the cover back over her slender body. "I don't have lovers. Except this once, of course. I don't need a cook or a bodyguard. Draw your own conclusions."

  He'd been fielding women for years because he was rich and it usually showed. It did here. But Tippy was right, she had money and fame—although in her line of work there was no such thing as job security. She had no reason to want him. Except for himself. Or for sex, he amended, recalling that she'd never made it with a man of her own volition. Was that the draw? First time euphoria?

  "That's it, of course," she said, as if she could see into his mind. "You're my first real lover and I'm overwhelmed by how good it was. So naturally I'm panting to keep you around as long as I can."

  He glared at her. "Stop that. I don't like people reading my mind."

  She shrugged. "Okay."

  "And this was a one-night stand. Period."

  "Then why did you want me to get pregnant?" she asked reasonably.

  His eyes widened. He hadn't realized... He really glared now. "Men say all sorts of things to women to arouse them!" "Ah. So that was it." She nodded. "Nice touch. It really raised the threshold." "I'm leaving," he said coldly. "I noticed." "I'm going home." "I'll send you a Christmas card." "There isn't time. It's day after tomorrow." "In that case, Merry Christmas." "Yeah. You, too." "Are you going to say goodbye to Rory?" she asked. His hand hesitated on the doorknob. He hadn't thought about Rory. The boy was

  looking forward to Christmas Eve with him.

  "We can be civil to each other for one meal. For Rory's sake," she said. She smiled. "I

  promise not to bend you back over the dining-room table and have you in the

  mashed potatoes and corn-bread stuffing. If that helps."

  He wanted to yell. He wanted to laugh. He didn't know what the hell he wanted.

  "I'm leaving."

  "You said that," she said, unspeakably delighted. He was confused, overwhelmed,

  totally at sea, and she knew why. He felt something for her. Something powerful. Now

  he was going to fight it to the bitter end. But somehow she felt an optimism that she

  couldn't explain.

  "I'll be back for lunch," he said finally. "Just for lunch. I'll be packed and ready to

  leave town after."

  "Okay."

  He hesitated. He looked back at her with dark, quiet eyes. "I didn't hurt you?"

  "Of course not," she said softly.

  He sighed. Some of the anger drained out of him as he looked at her in the pale light. "Even at the last? I was rough. I didn't mean to be." "I know that. I wasn't afraid. It was glorious!" She managed to smile. "I never thought..." She shrugged. "It was...almost unbearable." He nodded. "For me, too." His eyes narrowed as he studied her. "But it was still

  irresponsible. I should have used something." "I'll remind you next time," she promised. The glare was back. "I've told you, there isn't going to be a next time!"

  'That's what you said this time."

  "I'm really leaving."

  "Don't speed," she chided.

  He gave her a cold glare and slammed out of the apartment. Below, she heard the

  roar of a wildcat and the furious acceleration out of the parking spot. No wonder they called them Jaguars, she thought, wincing at the screeching tires.

  TIPPY DANCED AROUND the apartment, cleaning and polishing and cooking, feeling happier than she'd ever been before. She was crazy about Cash. She couldn't get the forbidden images out of her mind as she relived over and over again the feverish pleasure of his body against hers in bed.

  Hiding it from Rory was difficult. He wouldn't understand what was going on. Or he might. But she didn't want Cash to become lessened in the boy's eyes. She didn't want him to think that Cash had taken advantage of her, or hurt her.

  "You're cheerful today," Rory commented when she took the turkey out of the oven.

  "I feel good," she mused.

  "Nice date last night, huh?" he murmured, his eyes twinkling.

  "Nice," she agreed.

  "We heard some maniac drive off about dawn," he mumbled without looking at her.

  "There are some pretty bad tire tracks in front of the apartment." "Cash and I had a...disagreement," she said without meeting his eyes. "Just a little one. He's still coming to dinner today." "Sis, he's not exactly what he seems," Rory said, solemnly for a nine-year-old.

  "He's had some really hard knocks and he has no close friends at all." "Your commandant knows him. I forgot." Rory nodded. "I'm crazy about Cash. But I don't want you to get hurt."

  He was saying things she'd only thought. Hearing them made her stiffen. She was living in a fool's paradise. She'd seduced Cash, she was daydreaming about happily ever after. And her nine-year-old brother knew what was going on better than she did. Was she actually thinking that an outcast who'd lived an outcast, dangerous life would rush to get involved with a woman? Especially after a disastrous marriage that had left mental scars he was still carrying?

  Cash wasn't thinking about happy ever after. He'd even said so. He hadn't wanted to touch her in the first place. She'd played on his weakness and his need. She'd led him right to her bed and he hadn't been able to resist. But that didn't mean he loved her. Not even that impassioned husky plea for a child meant love. It meant that he was lonely and jealous of Judd Dunn and hungry for a child. But... what if he was hungry for Christabel's child? Did he still love her? Had he submitted to Tippy's advances out of rejected desire for a woman he couldn't have?

  The whole face of things changed in an instant. She went cold. All the joy

  drained out of her like rain out of clouds.

  Rory actually winced. "I'm sorry," he said. He went to her and hugged her, as

  hard as he could. "I'm sorry!"

  Tears stung her eyes. She was too proud to shed them. She held her little brother

  close and felt cheated. Absolutely cheated.

  "We're going to have a great Christmas," she said after a minute, wiping away the tears unobtrusively to smile down at him. "You want to cook the biscuits?" "You want to be able to eat them?" he shot back. She laughed. She and Rory had always been a great combination, even from the

  age he'd been when she'd acquired him from her mother. "That settles who cooks, I guess. If Cash shows up while I'm in the kitchen, you can entertain him." He gave her a wry look and wiggled both eyebrows. "That's my department, all right. Let's see if I can find my juggling balls and my top hat..." She tossed a dishrag in his general direction as she turned to get out flour and olive oil and milk. When she was alone, her face fell. She had no idea if Cash would even show up, after all, despite his affection for Rory. The prior evening had been an unmitigated disaster and it was totally her fault. If she hadn't put Cash in a position where he had to do something about their mutual physical attraction, they might still be friends. And from there, she might have captivated him for real. Now her dreams of happiness had boiled down into a furtive night of passion, which Cash with his greater experience would dismiss as he'd said he would—a one-night stand. If only, she thought, she could go back and undo the major mistakes of her life. But the only way open was the future.

  CASH DID SHOW UP, just as Tippy was chewing off her nails with everything already on the table.

  Her heart skipped as the buzzer sounded. Rory ran to see who it was, and Cash answered.

  "I'll buzz you right in!" Rory enthused, pushing the button.

  Tippy wa
s wearing a simple pair of emerald velvet slacks with a white silk top, her hair tied back with an emerald green scarf. She looked festive, but casual. She didn't expect that Cash would dress up.

  And she was right. He was wearing black again—slacks, T-shirt and leather jacket. He looked at her without seeing her, and forced a smile for Rory's benefit.

  "It looks great," he said.

  "It's nothing fancy, just plain food. Sit down. Rory, say grace," she murmured