this woman and this coupling.
Stow it, he thought dimly, and kissed her again. Then he reached around to undo the clasp of her bra; it joined his trousers on the floor. Like a man in a dream, he cupped her breasts in his palms, their soft weight arousing in him a possessiveness he could no more have stifled than he could have walked out of Katrin’s bedroom. He bent his head, his mouth exploring her breasts’ firm slopes, then the tautness of their rose-pink tips.
She was trembling very lightly. He said urgently, “Are you all right?”
Her laugh was shaky. “Oh Luke,” she said artlessly, “I’ve never in my life felt so—so shameless.”
Her words went straight through his defenses. She was saying she trusted him, he thought blankly. Trusted him enough to free her sexuality.
He mustn’t misuse that trust. But equally he mustn’t allow it to develop into anything else. With sudden impatience he stripped off his shorts, saying huskily, “Let’s go to bed, Katrin.”
Her movements imbued with a seductive grace, she pulled off the last of her garments, and again he was aware of the shyness lurking very close to her outer poise. He lifted her and laid her on the bed, her hair fanned on the pillows like a sweep of pale satin. For a moment he hovered over her, resting on his elbows, drinking in her beauty. Her courage, he thought. Her utter vulnerability. And with a clench at his heart knew he mustn’t misuse these in any way, either.
He kissed her again, slowly lowering his body to hers, rubbing the roughness of his body hair to her sweet curves, always careful to keep his weight from crushing her. Before he was ready, she pulled him down hard on top of her, wrapping her thighs around his, murmuring his name in between fierce little kisses.
Cool it, Luke, cool it. Where’s your famous technique?
Stroking her breasts, he lowered his head to lave her nipples with his tongue, hearing her moan with pleasure. Gradually he moved lower down her body, exploring with his hands and his mouth, discovering all her sensitivities. As he cupped the warm mound between her thighs, caressing the petals of her flesh with exquisite control, she cried out, begging him for more.
Only then did Luke take the little foil packet, deal with its contents, and slide into her. Her slick heat enveloped him; they fit as though they were made for each other. Now, he thought. Now. And knew as he watched the storm gather in her face that his timing was perfect. Her inner throbbing caught and magnified his own; he felt himself falling deeper and deeper into the cataclysm, joining her there.
But even then, Luke stifled the raw cry that was crowding his throat.
Resting some of his weight on his elbows, he dropped his head to her shoulder. His heartbeat eventually slowed, his breathing returning to normal. Gently he eased her onto her side and laid down facing her. She was lying still, her eyes closed. “Katrin?” he whispered. “Are you okay?”
She burrowed her face into his chest, as though not yet ready to look at him. “I’m fine,” she mumbled, her breath warm on his chest. “What about you?”
“Great,” he said.
She suddenly reared her head. “Really? Because you were holding back the whole time. You never really let go, even at the end.”
He should have remembered how acute she was. “I wanted to make sure you were all right,” he said; and knew it for only a partial reply.
“You didn’t want to lose control.”
“I hate postmortems,” he said curtly.
“You hate it when I get too close to the truth. Too close to you.”
For a man who only minutes ago had been convulsed by sexual passion, Luke felt extraordinarily angry. “So who did you prefer, Katrin? Me or Donald?”
“You. Of course. Donald was as self-centered in bed as out.”
“I rest my case—I was trying to look after you, and I obviously succeeded.”
“Why do I think I’ve been very cleverly sidetracked—and by a real pro?”
“You’re putting the worst possible interpretation on everything I say and do!”
She pushed herself up on one arm. “So tell me about your parents, Luke. Your brothers and sisters and relatives. Where you grew up. Why you react so strongly to the mere mention of anything like a relationship.”
“We made a deal. And that kind of talk’s not in it.”
“So we did,” Katrin said. “In fact, I instigated it…silly me.” With a brilliant smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, she added, “Since we’ve only got one night, we shouldn’t waste any time…talk’s certainly not getting us anywhere.”
He was still angry. “For obvious reasons, I have to go to the bathroom.”
“I hope you brought enough protection for the whole night,” she said provocatively.
Luke stalked out of the room. But before he left the bathroom, he gazed at himself in the mirror. She hadn’t liked him holding back; that was obvious. She saw it as a challenge. Well, she was out of luck. If she didn’t like him as he was, too bad.
When he walked back in the room, she was lying just as he’d left her. He climbed into bed and lay down beside her. Her cheekbones were shadowed, as shadowed as her collarbone; darkness lay between her breasts. The dip of her waist, the rise of her hip, the smooth length of her thighs: all known to him now. And still desired, he realized with an unnerving jolt. Desired more strongly than before; the past three-quarters of an hour might never have happened.
She wasn’t out of his system.
She’d become part of him instead. Invaded him in a way a woman never had before. Wouldn’t that be closer to the truth?
The laugh was on him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AS LUKE lay there, his mind racing, Katrin reached up, took his face between her palms and began kissing him with a slow sensuality that made his pulses quicken. Her fingertips light as feathers, she brushed his cheekbones, his deep-set eyes and the dark lines of his brows; as though she were blind and seeking an image of him in her mind. Then her lips wandered down the taut cords of his throat. And all the while, her body was pressed to his, moving against him with leisurely seductiveness.
He tried to hold back. Tried to take control. But as she teased his chest hair with one hand, her other hand slid lower. He was more than ready for her; and felt her touch surge through his body, flooding him with a primitive and all-consuming hunger. Her hair slipping like water over his ribs and navel, she moved lower, finding the jut of his hipbones, his navel, the arrow of hair that led her mouth to the hardness that was need and the ache for consummation.
Luke shuddered with pleasure. She said softly, “You’re so silky, so warm,” her tongue laving where her fingers had moved. He moaned deep in his throat, trapped by sensation. With the inexorability of fire, pleasure and hunger mounted, feeding on each other, hotter and hotter.
Just when he was sure he couldn’t bear it any longer, Katrin slid away from him. She rolled on her back, thighs shamelessly
