arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“No.” She rushed on. “It’s not as if—”
“Allison.”
She stopped, and her gaze came back to his.
“It’s too bad if you don’t want me to feel obligated because that’s exactly how I want you to feel.”
She hesitated, and he thought she might be holding her breath. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I want you to marry me.”
“What?” Her expression was so shocked he almost laughed.
“Marry me.”
She began to struggle in his arms and he pivoted, sitting on the edge of the bed and cradling her in his lap, controlling her until she stopped moving and lay against him again, her head on his shoulder, face turned up to his with a bewildered expression.
“Tonight…” he said. “Sex isn’t a casual thing for you. And we didn’t use birth control. I could have gotten you pregnant.”
“But…you don’t have to—you can’t marry me!” She looked completely panicked, her body stiff and uncomfortable against his.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He dropped his head and sought her mouth, kissing her with deep intent until she was limp and pliant in his embrace and her arms came up to clutch at his neck as she returned his kisses. Then he lifted his head. “Say yes.”
She gazed at him for a long time, then closed her eyes. “You’re crazy. You’d hate being married to me.”
The flat certainty in her tone took him aback, but he noticed she hadn’t said she’d hate being married to him. “I’ve thought about it,” he told her, his hand slipping down to cover a breast, “and I wouldn’t hate it at all. I think we’re well suited. We’re great in bed and we get along well outside it, too.”
She blushed. “Those aren’t solid reasons to get married.” But she didn’t push his hand away.
“They’re better than some. Think about it,” he urged, a sense of urgency rushing through him, “and you’ll see I’m right. How many other men do you talk to the way we’ve talked?”
She was silent.
A new thought occurred to him. Were there other men whom she’d treated as sweetly and gently as she’d treated him in the course of their friendship? The idea didn’t set well. “How many other men—?” he began, but she cut him off.
“None,” she said. “But, Kane, I just don’t think you’ve really thought this through. You’re a Fortune.”
“Who cares what my last name is?” Dammit, what was wrong with her? She had to marry him. “Say yes,” he prompted, his fingers shaping her nipple, tugging and rolling the taut flesh, teasing himself as much as he was teasing her. “We’ll be good together. And if you’re pregnant, I’ll be delighted.”
Her eyes drooped, closed. She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Yes.”
He thought she sounded more like she was agreeing to an execution than a wedding, but the relief that swamped him was so intense and unexpected that he couldn’t comment. What was going on here? It was only that she was so perfect for the role, he decided. He’d have to look a long time to find another woman who fit so well into his life. And he had neither the time nor the inclination to go wife-hunting.
He lifted her again, turned to the pretty spindle bed and laid her down, taking the time to spread her hair out over the pillow. Then he went to the bathroom he’d passed and found a washcloth, running it beneath warm water before he returned to the bedroom.
He was amused to see that she’d pulled a sheet over herself and even more amused that she protested when he tugged it away and began to clean her. “I’m going to be looking at you every day soon,” he said, “So you might as well put the modesty in the past.”
“I can’t,” she said, covering her face with her hands, and he chuckled, setting the washcloth aside.
“This hair,” he murmured, moving onto the mattress beside her and pulling her into his arms as he buried his face in the fragrant mass. “I can’t believe you hid this hair from me for four years.”
Allison didn’t speak, though he felt her smile against his throat. She’d said very little since they’d risen from the couch, and he had a moment’s sudden panic that he’d hurt her badly, even though she’d just agreed to marry him. He leaned over her, cupping the sweet weight of one breast in his hand again and absently brushing his thumb across the tip. “Are you sure you’re all right? I was too rough.”
“I’m okay,” she said, and once again that light wash of color stole up her cheeks.
He grinned. “How can you still blush?”
Now there were bright flags of color painting her complexion. “I don’t know,” she said helplessly, looking everywhere but at him.
“You know,” he said, his voice deepening in anticipation, “There are a lot more things we could do if you really want something to blush about.”
He’d expected her to hide her face in his shoulder and laugh, but instead, her green eyes fastened on his, filled with interest and rising desire. “Show me.”
His whole body leaped to attention. Relief rushed through him as he realized he really hadn’t hurt her, hadn’t frightened her, despite the lack of care he’d taken and the way he’d left her behind in his pursuit of fulfillment. This time, he thought, he’d make sure she was with him all the way. And he’d do it all for her.
So he did, pressing her back against the pillows and kissing his way over her from earlobe to tiny pink toe, sucking and nipping, running his tongue along the backs of her sensitive knees and then moving up to stroke and suckle her beautiful breasts. He smoothed his hands from her shoulders down to her wrists, then twined his fingers with hers and lifted them above her head, anchoring them there with one hand while he continued to explore her with the other. After a long while, he knelt near her feet and spread her legs, holding them apart with strong hands when she murmured a protest. And then the protests turned to moans as he kissed a path up the inside of one leg, slipping steadily up and up, lingering over the satiny flesh of her inner thighs, until finally, finally he put his mouth over her. He tasted her gently, inhaling her fragrant female scent. His tongue sought out the tiny pouting bump hidden within the damp blond curls, laving it gently until she was writhing beneath his mouth. Suddenly, he increased both the pressure and the rhythm and she arched and cried out as her body convulsed and she shook with her own release.
When she was calm again, he slipped up to gather her into his arms, nestling her head beneath his chin. “That,” he said, “was how it should have been for your first time.” He couldn’t change that, much to his regret. But the thought stole into his mind that after they married, this sweet, responsive, incredibly passionate woman would be in his bed every night, and the idea filled him with pleasure.
“That was…wonderful,” she breathed. Then her small hand drifted over his chest and down his belly, hovering a breath away from his taut, swollen flesh. “But you
