Chapter 11
The rosy tint of dawn was streaking across the sky when he made love to her for the last time.
His guilt at the possibility that he might be doing her harm and not allowing her to adjust and rest, or that she might be sore, was brushed away by her.
She was the one who initiated the second and third times, effectively setting his body on fire with her mouth and hands.
The student had learned quickly and had found his weak spot, which was every inch of his body when it came to her. He was helpless and could do nothing less than succumb to her erotic touch.
Now she was cuddled against him, a smile on her lips, her eyes closing in exhaustion. Her body felt wonderfully used and limp with satisfaction. Her husband had taken her to the moon and back and her heart was singing.
"I tire you out." His fingers were stroking up and down her back lazily, lulling her into sleep.
"I'd like to think that it's mutual."
"Hmm." He could still feel her wrapped around him. Still feel her lips on his, and the imprint of her slender curves on his body was something he would never forget. "We're going to sleep in."
"Hmm." She snuggled closer, throwing a shapely thigh over his. She felt perfect, just the right fit for him. His wife, he mused in dazed wonder. He was married to this wonderful woman who had taken his objections, his harsh self-recriminations, and tossed them aside.
Tipping down his chin, he was about to make a teasing comment about how insatiable she was, when he noticed that her lashes were fanning her cheeks and she was fast asleep.
A tender smile touched his lips. She must be exhausted, he thought, the guilt surging. He had been unable to get enough of her. After the initial hesitation, he had gone full tilt ahead. Tucking a stray lock behind her ear, he allowed his touch to linger.
She was his, completely and utterly his. The waiting had been insane; there had been times when he felt as if he was going out of his mind wanting her and not having her. But she had been right, it made it all the more special.
"And you knew that, didn't you, sweetheart?
" he said softly. "You knew it would be well worth it.
" He kissed her forehead softly. For the first time in his life, he felt utterly content and at peace with himself.
It never dawned on him before that he was desperately unhappy, jumping from one brief relationship to the next, never satisfied, always searching.
That search had ended when he took one look at the petite beauty who had started tucking away food to give to the homeless. He grinned in remembrance at how cleverly she had done so, looking around to make sure she was not discovered.
"That moment changed my life," he whispered.
"You changed my life. You saved me, and for that.
.." He swallowed the lump that had lodged itself inside his throat.
Even now, he still could not say the words, and it made him mad.
He wanted to say it back to her. He felt it, but each time he attempted to express his feelings, he froze.
He knew what his well-paid therapist would say to him. He had told one woman he loved her years ago and that love had never been returned. His mother had crushed his young heart, and he had never been the same again.
She had disappointed him when he had her on a pedestal.
And he was afraid, so afraid to say it, in case it happened all over again.
Deep down, he knew Catherine would never be the person to give her love and then take it back.
But the damage was done; the more he tried to vocalize, the more difficult it became.
"Darling. My sweet." He had shown her in so many ways how he felt, but he knew that eventually, she was going to want to hear the words.
"I'm trying, I swear." Kissing her cheek, he closed his eyes and brought her even closer to him and drifted off to sleep, a smile on his face.
*****
The enticing scent of coffee hit him even before he opened his eyes.
A smile hovered around his lips as the realization hit that his new bride was in the kitchen and had left his bed.
His eyes flickered open to see the sun streaming through the shades.
A glance at the clock showed that it was half past ten.
Stretching languidly, he rolled over, swinging his legs over the side as he reached for the robe he had discarded last night.
He stood at the top of the landing where he could see her wandering around in the kitchen. He took a moment, unobserved and unnoticed by her, to simply stand there in the open doorway to admire her.
She had donned the t-shirt he had taken off last night and it enveloped her small curves. Her hair was a tumble of coils down her back and she was barefooted.
Walking up behind her, he caught her around the waist. "I awoke and you weren't next to me," he whispered. "There's some sort of law against the bride leaving the groom's side on their wedding night."
Her heart bumped against her ribs at the sound of his beloved voice and the feel of his solid frame against her. She had opened her eyes earlier and just lain there gazing at his beautiful face.
In slumber he looked so innocent and trouble-free. She had felt the spike of fear when he started talking about an annulment.
"I decided to come down and make us breakfast," she murmured, leaning back against him. "I have no idea if you eat breakfast."
He turned her to face him. "Love the outfit. I think my shirt looks better on you," he teased.
"I just grabbed the first thing I got my hands on."
His hands cupped her cheeks. "That wasn't a complaint, my sweet. And I don't really eat breakfast. Coffee will do and sometimes orange juice, straight black. But there's something I need to do first."
Her brows arched. "And that is?"
"This." Hoisting her onto the counter, he slipped between her thighs.
"Dean! The kitchen counter. That's..." She broke off with a moan when he kissed her chin and angled down to her throat.
"You were saying?" he whispered against the hollow of her throat.
"What?" she asked dazedly. She was already lost in the swirl of passion he could evoke at the slightest touch.
"Never mind." His mouth closed over hers in a deep drugging kiss that spiraled them into near madness.
Wrapping her legs around his trim waist, she clung, her body primed and ready.
They had spent all of last night and the early hours of this morning exploring each other's bodies.
He had shown her things, how to please him, and turned his body into an experiment for her.
Lifting his mouth from hers, he tugged the shirt over her head, a sound humming deep in his throat at her nakedness.
"I couldn't find my underwear."
"Thank God for that!" he said fervently.
"This is not hygienic," she fretted. The counter was cold on her butt cheeks, and it felt weird to be in the kitchen where the housekeeper ruled supreme. "We're going to have to clean the counter thoroughly."
"Hmm." He wasn't the least bit concerned about any of it.
"Mrs. Bent..."
"Unless she has a hidden camera in one of the pots and pans, she will never know.
" His hands parted her thighs, eyes gleaming.
"And frankly, I don't give a damn." He was kissing his way down to her breasts.
When he latched onto a nipple, she lost her train of thought and the worry about being on the kitchen counter naked.
Sensations crashed and burned inside her until she was caught up in a maelstrom of desire that had her arching towards his mouth.
When his hand pressed down on her sex, she cried out his name in shocked arousal. Lifting her up slightly, he kissed her quivering stomach before moving to that intimate part of her.
Her fingers clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging in. His name trembled on her lips when his tongue replaced his fingers. The climax was staggering! Catherine felt as if she was being tossed and battered by waves that threatened to overwhelm her.
Before she was able to drift back down, he was lifting her up and plunging into her.
Backing her against the wall, he wrapped his arms around her waist, his eyes holding hers as he drove into her over and over again.
He came violently, one hand slapping the wall, body jerking as he completely lost control.
He barely found the strength to hold onto her as her legs slipped nervelessly down his back.
Striving to control his breathing, he staggered towards one of the bar stools and sat before his knees could give way. He simply held her, his face buried in her neck.
"I suppose that was even better than the breakfast I had in mind."
Her remark in that cultured and prim voice of hers had him shaking with laughter.
Lifting his head, he gazed at her, expression indescribable. "What did you have in mind?" he asked huskily.
"Scrambled eggs and bacon with toast."
He nodded. "This was much better. How about we go for a ride and have breakfast at this diner I know?"
"I thought you didn't eat breakfast."
"I'm willing to make an exception." He was still intimately joined to her and was reluctant to change that position.
"Sounds like a plan."
Wrapping his arms around her, he rose. "Let's go take a shower."
The shower took more than an hour because he insisted on scrubbing every part of her body first with the sponge and then with his hands and mouth. By the time he finished with her, she was weak and shaken.
"As soon as we get back, I promise I will let you sleep."
"Am I complaining?"
"No. But..." He took a deep breath and turned away, pulling the shirt over his head. He could not get enough of her, and it made him feel guilty that he was going too hard. He felt like a randy schoolboy with his first crush. "We should get going."
*****
"Ice cream for breakfast? Very unusual, Mr. Collier," she told him teasingly.
"We did have coffee and a donut at Ingrid's," he reminded her.