A Thrill to Remember (8 page)

She did as he commanded, rubbing her nipples and delighting in the erotic sensation.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“I wish I could lick you. Kiss you. Hold you. I’m getting hard just thinking about you.”

“I’m getting excited, too,” she panted, thrashing about in the chair as she ran her hands down her belly to the triangle of hair between her legs.

“I wish I could slip my hands into your panties and stroke your warm, wet…” He spoke a word that made her blush and ache to come all at the same time.

Perspiration beaded on her forehead as her brain spiraled off into another seductively vivid scenario. She imagined him sliding her naked body down the length of his until she was on her knees, her lips even with the hard length of his erection. She envisioned wrapping her warm, moist mouth around his manhood until he groaned with ecstasy and begged for mercy.

She saw herself pinned under his hard, masculine body, his manly fingers tangling in her hair, holding her prisoner while he ravished her with his mouth, feasting on her nipples, dragging his tongue along her belly, then lower to her heated depths.

A sharp shudder thrust its way through Meggie’s system and she shifted in her seat, crossing one leg over the other in a desperate attempt to stay the sensations flooding her groin.

“I count the moments until I see you again,” he whispered. “Until I can kiss you and gaze into your beautiful green eyes.”

Absently, she ran a hand along her throat, fingered the erratic pulse beating there and was surprised to find her skin so warm to the touch. Desire heated her from the inside out and made her crave this man’s presence.

“I must see you again.” His voice through the phone line was a low, masculine rumble of urgent sound that grabbed hold of her and aroused the most secret places of her body.

“I’d like to see you, too.”

“To finish what we started.”

She felt her face flush hot, but, yes, this was what she wanted, what she had dreamed of for the past seven weeks.

“Yes,” she murmured softly.

“I will be arriving in Seattle in the morning. I have business to attend to during the day, but my evening is reserved for you.”

“I can’t tomorrow night. I’m attending a Halloween charity event.”

“I’m only in town for one night. I must see you tomorrow or not at all.”

He was pressuring her, but damn if she didn’t want to see him again. “You may come to the Halloween party if you like. If you’ve got a pen, I can give you the name and address of the hotel where it’s being held.”

“Should I come as Don Juan?”

“But of course.”

A thrill ran through her at the mental picture of his tight leather pants and shiny black boots. She certainly did not want him to come without a costume. If she was going to have a red-hot, mindless affair with this man, she must not know his real name or see the face behind the mask.

She bit down on her bottom lip. Molten passion seeped through her being with a heat that obscured all rational thought.

“Are you there?” he asked, his devastating accent fueling the fire between her legs. “Are you all right?”

Meggie blinked and realized several seconds had gone by while she had indulged her fantasies. She cleared her throat.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Until tomorrow night,” he whispered.

“Until tomorrow night,” Meggie echoed, not knowing how she was going to make it through the next twenty-four hours.

CALEB HAD STUNNED HIMSELF. He couldn’t believe he had said those provocative things to her over the telephone. And after he’d hung up, alone in his hotel room with nothing but erotic visions of Meggie pleasuring herself, he had been forced to take matters into his own hands. There was only so much control a guy could command before the dam burst.

Now here he was, dressed as Don Juan, in a taxi on the way to the Halloween party. His blood surged feverishly with thoughts of the night ahead. How and when was he going to reveal himself to Meggie?

While he was enjoying this masquerade, he couldn’t keep it up forever. And dammit, call it ego, but he was ready for her to know that he, the guy she considered no more than a friend, was the one pushing her sexual buttons.

But he also knew that Meggie was loving this game they’d built, and wearing a disguise was what gave her confidence to move into uncharted territory, just as the Don Juan costume supplied him with the courage to take a chance on fulfilling his fantasies.

He smiled to himself. Meggie Scofield. What a woman! Brave and smart and sexy as hell.

The taxi parked in front of the Claremont Hotel. Caleb paid the fare and got out. As he walked through the elegant, upscale European-style lobby, numerous feminine heads turned to stare in his direction.

He barely noticed. All his thoughts were concentrated on one woman and one woman only. In a brash move, he stopped at the front desk and made a room reservation for the night.

Are you sure this is such a smart thing to do? his practical side argued. Aren’t you assuming a lot? And what if you do make love to Meggie? What if it turns out to be terrible and you end up ruining your friendship?

He thrust out his jaw and shoved aside the voice that kept him trodding the straight and narrow. Keeping quiet, holding back, had never gotten him what he wanted. The only time he’d achieved success was when he’d pursued something with passion.

When he crossed over into the packed ballroom, he realized he had no idea what costume Meggie would be wearing tonight. Feeling at a loss, he found a vantage point by the front entrance from which to peruse the crowd.

Suddenly, two hands slipped around his mask and covered his eyes, her dainty pinkies tickling his fake mustache. “Guess who.”

Caleb started at the sound of her voice, so familiar and melodious. He began to turn toward her, but a hand on his shoulder stilled him.

“Wait.”

She was so close he could feel her soft breath fanning the nape of his neck, and despite the crowds in the ballroom, he felt as if they were totally and completely alone.

“Guess who,” she repeated.

“I need a clue.”

“Think extravagant.”

“Well, that narrows it down.”

“Someone sinfully rich.”

“Don’t tell me. Wait. I’ve got it. Bill Gates is flirting with me?”

Meggie’s laugh sent an arrow of pure sexual energy shooting straight to his groin. “Not that rich and further back in history.”

“Marie Antoinette.”

“Closer, but not so headless.”

The lush, velvety material of her sleeve scratched gently against his cheek. She rested her elbows on his shoulders and he could feel her breasts brushing seductively against his cape.

Alarmed, Caleb became cognizant of the very stunning effect this new game was having on the other parts of his body. He felt a swift stirring of arousal. If she didn’t step away from him soon he was bound to embarrass them both.

“Guess who,” she whispered into his ear again, her hands still locked in front of his face.

He’d never noticed before what cute palms she had, and her fingers were long and delicate. Refined. Certainly not the hands of an Alaskan woman. She belonged here, he realized with a twinge. In this city.

And he did not.

Before he could follow that depressing train of thought too far, Meggie did something that completely knocked him for a loop. She stood on tiptoe, leaned in close and ran her hot little tongue along this ear.

It was the most incredibly erotic thing anyone had ever done to him. He felt his control unraveling fast. What was she playing at?

“Come find me if you can,” she whispered, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

DRESSED AS Catherine the Great, Meggie slipped across the room and found a place to hunker down behind Dracula, the Wolf Man, Michael Jordan and John Wayne, who were discussing the pros and cons of extended antibiotic therapy in the long-term treatment of tick-born illnesses.

Her pulse was pumping with enough endorphins to kick start a Harley. She was high on adventure and the thrill of the chase. Crazed with a bright excitement as memorable as childhood Christmas mornings.

She certainly hadn’t planned this little escapade. She’d simply spied Don Juan standing in the crowd and had gone to greet him, but by the time she’d made her way over, he had his back to her. Impulse had driven her to stand on tiptoe, rest her elbows on his shoulders and cover his eyes with her hands. Impulse and animal instinct.

His sharp intake of breath at her presence, his rich masculine scent, the way his broad shoulders had tensed beneath that silky white pirate shirt had compelled her to take things a step further. To dare him to figure out what disguise she was wearing and try to find her in the midst of the costumed congregation.

She should have known better. Hadn’t that night in the forest taught her that hunting and capturing a mate was a compulsion written in a man’s genetic code? By extending him this challenge, she’d effectively pitted herself against thousands of years of evolutionary conditioning.

And now Don Juan was on a quest, stalking through the gathered horde with a confident, ground-eating stride and an expression of serious intent riding his tightened jaw: he was searching for her.

What a buzz! What a lark! What a fantasy!

Meggie’s mouth was dry, and she shivered from her head to her feet. She felt warm and jittery, as if she’d downed a half-dozen espressos in one sitting.

Was she losing control of the situation?

This masquerade was in danger of becoming an obsession. Don Juan made her feel things she had never felt before. Wonderful, delicious things she wanted to explore more fully.

Did she truly dare finish what they had started in the Tongass?

Dracula shifted to one side, leaving Meggie exposed to the crowd. She glanced around the room, looking for a new place to hide, but when she tilted her head to the right, there was Don Juan, standing just a few feet away, an inscrutable smile on his enigmatic lips.

The minute their eyes met Meggie knew she was in trouble. He started toward her. Meggie gulped. What was he going to do?

Wicked intent glistened in those commanding blue eyes, made even more powerful by the erotic frame of his black leather mask.

Her stomach fluttered. A jolt of pure, raw sexual energy rushed through her and her world narrowed, shifted into agonizing slow motion.

Stomp, stomp, stomp. The noise of his boots striking the marble floor was sharpened and elongated, echoing loudly in her ears with each resounding step. His black hair was wildly tousled. The material of his silky shirt rippled when he walked, fluid as water. His gaze was locked on hers and she was helpless to look away, even to move. In what seemed both an eternity and a mere whisper of a second, he was at her side.

My God, he was handsome.

He reached out and wrapped a hand around her right elbow. The pressure of his fingers caused her to disintegrate into a quivering mass of organic matter. His body heat muddled her brain.

When the two of them came in contact it could only be described as chemistry, electrical conductivity, spontaneous combustion. Oh, how seriously pathetic to be reduced to bottom-level biological rubble by a man.

He slipped a key card into her palm, then pressed his lips to her ear and whispered in his robust Spanish accent, “Come to room 716 as soon as you can get away. I will be waiting.”

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, a short, firm rap sounded at the door of room 716.

Forcing himself to remain calm and in control, he let her knock again before pulling open the door to find Catherine the Great leaning against the doorjamb looking like a billion bucks.

He was about to speak, to say something comforting to soothe their nervousness, when she took him totally and utterly by surprise. Meggie splayed a palm across his chest and pushed him back as she stepped over the threshold. With one delicately slippered foot, she slammed the door closed behind them at the same time as she wadded his shirt in her fist and pulled him forcefully toward her. Her green eyes lit up like a lynx’s and she pounced on him, growling softly. His knees went weak with lust and he felt a curious tingling sensation in the back of his throat. She planted a kiss on him with such ravenous aggression that he found himself propelled backward onto the bed. She followed, melding her mouth to his, straddling his prone body and tugging his shirt from his waistband, all in one smooth move.

Her brazenness bowled him over. Holy buried treasure. What had he wrought?

He was both pleased and disconcerted by her overt onslaught. This wasn’t the sensible, restrained Meggie Scofield he’d known his whole life. This was the lusty, uninhibited wench from his fantasies.

Wait a minute. Maybe he was dreaming all this. Maybe he should pinch himself.

But no, she was nibbling on his bottom lip with her straight white teeth, and it felt very real indeed. Apparently their role-playing had unleashed a long-dormant tempest within her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body against the length of him and eagerly ran her tongue over his lips.

No. Wait. Stop the presses. This wouldn’t do. At the rate she was moving, he wouldn’t last five minutes.

Reaching up, he untangled her hands from his hair at the same time he disengaged his mouth from hers. He lifted her off him, placed her to one side and sat up.

“Sweetheart,” Caleb crooned. “Slow down. This isn’t a race.”

She pulled back, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She blinked and then a red flush ran up her neck to color her cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never acted like that.”

He pulled her to him. “Shh…don’t be embarrassed. I liked it. We just need to slow down.”

“You’re right.” She nodded. “I guess I was just wanting to get to it before I lost my courage.”

Aw hell.

Was she trying to rush through sex with him just to get it over with? Was she trying to prove something to herself, using him as a means to her end?

He took her hand. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, and rested her head against his shoulder.

“Good.” He exhaled, troubled by the unsettling sensation tromping around in his gut.

“But I do have two requests.”

He would do absolutely anything for her, Caleb realized. If she asked him do handstands atop the Space Needle, he would have asked her how many and done one extra for good measure—even in the face of his fear of man-made heights. He would grant her every whim, from the simplest appeal to the most sublime demand. He wanted her that much.

“We must leave on our masks.”

She didn’t want to see his face. What did that mean? Caleb bit down on the inside of his cheek. He’d intended on revealing himself to her tonight, but he had promised to comply with her desires, and he was a man of his word.

“All right.”

“And turn out the lights. All of them.”

“Whatever you wish.”

He did as she asked, drawing the curtains and turning off each lamp until the room was pitch-black, the way it had been that night in the cabin.

With no lights anywhere, he had to feel his way in the darkness. His other four senses pricked in awareness. He could not see her, but he felt her presence, heard her breathing, smelled the wonderful womanly scent of her, tasted her unique flavor on the tip of his tongue.

And he had to admit, not being able to see was highly erotic. The anticipation had been building for seven weeks and his nerves were taut as newly tuned guitar strings just waiting to be strummed.

He moved toward where she had been standing, but felt her slip past him.

She giggled. “Find me if you can.”

Caleb smiled in the darkness. Obviously, she liked playing tag.

He lunged for her, came into contact with some soft part of her body, but she squirmed away before he could clamp a tight hold on her.

She pattered across the room, and he heard rustling noises.

Caleb went after her, his blood chugging through his veins, thick as syrup. He moved slowly, listening for sounds of her. He kept his arms outstretched, feeling for obstacles.

Table, chair, lamp.

“Where are you?”

Curtains. An armoire. The television set.

And then his hand brushed bare breasts, and the impact of connecting with her ripped through him like a detonated time bomb. He realized with a shock that Meggie had shed her clothing.

Like a blind man reading braille, he skimmed his palms over her smooth naked skin. He felt goose bumps raise on her flesh, and experienced a corresponding tactile reaction of his own.

She reached up to stroke her fingertips over his face and his body caught fire, singeing him internally from head to toe.

He cupped her pert full breasts in his hands and wished like the devil he could see the pink tips of her nipples poking out at him. He had to satisfy himself with tenderly pinching those straining buds until she murmured a soft, “Oh my.”

He lowered his head, ran his tongue across first one nipple and then the other.

“You’re wicked,” she gasped.

“Isn’t that why I intrigue you?”

“Yes, yes.”

“You never know what I might do next.”

She inhaled sharply.

“That’s why you don’t want me to remove my mask. You like an outlaw.”

“Uh-huh.”

He grasped her hands, raised them over her head and pinned her to the wall.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, señorita.” He had to force himself to stay in character as Don Juan although this game was driving him right over the edge of reason.

She was his prisoner now, trembling with excitement and need. “Please,” she whimpered, “don’t…”

“Don’t what? Ravish you?” He’d sensed that she was taking their game to a new level, and he would play along.

He felt her nod, and a rush of blood drained straight to his groin.

“I could take you right here, right now. Up against the wall. Hard and fast. It’s dark. You can’t see my face. You couldn’t even describe me to the authorities. It’s best if you don’t give me an excuse to punish you.”

“But I’ve been a very bad girl. I’ve told the police where they can find you.”

The playful tone in her voice let him know he hadn’t gone too far. He amazed himself at the boundaries he was able to cross with her.

Helpless to resist her plea for more sex play, and wanting to give her as much pleasure as he possibly could before taking his own release, Caleb lowered her arms to her sides and then sank to his knees.

“Uh-oh. That means I’m going to have to give you a thorough tongue-lashing.”

He spanned the curve of her waist with his hands and then slowly began to run his tongue from her rib cage to her navel. She entangled her fingers in his hair and clasped him tightly against her belly. His mask must have scratched her tender flesh for she made a moaning, mewling sound of heightened awareness that nourished his own arousal. He ran a hand down the voluptuous curve of her hip to cup her buttocks, and discovered she still wore thong panties and thigh-high stockings.

Man alive. She was volcano hot and seducing him without even moving.

He hooked his thumbs under the ribbon of silk hugging those spectacularly feminine hips and started the exhilarating procedure of inching the flimsy morsel of fabric down her warm, firm thighs. She gasped, an erotic sound that reverberated like a prayer in his head.

When he feathered his fingertips along her skin in languid exploration, her grip on his hair tightened. He touched the inside of her thigh, the top of her legs, drew circles on her tight fanny. He stroked every inch of the area between her navel and knees, except where he knew she most wanted him to touch.

“You’re vicious,” she moaned. “I thought you promised me a tongue-lashing.”

“Punishment, sweetheart, takes many forms.”

“Bastard!” She uttered the word with clenched teeth.

He laughed.

She leaned back against the wall and arched her pelvis up toward him, planting her womanhood right near his face. Begging.

“Brazen wench,” he declared.

“If you can’t take the heat, then get out of the kitchen.”

“I’ll ignore that, because I know you don’t really mean it.”

Her sigh in response was like a caress in the darkness, inching down his spine, spilling through his bloodstream, setting him on fire with escalating desire for her. Swelling need seized him and his pulse knocked wildly in his temple. To wrest back a modicum of restrait, he compelled himself to disregard the provocative smell of her, the seductive rhythm of her undulating hips, by resolutely turning his attention back to the thong caught around her knees.