Sneak Peek at Everything In Its Time #2
Iain struggled to hold on to his control, but she was so hot, so wet.
He wanted her as he had never wanted a woman before.
She was a vision, an angel, his angel. His lips moved back to hers.
He kissed her almost savagely. She returned his passion with her mouth and her hands.
He felt her quiver deep inside and knew a moment of deep satisfaction when her body contracted around his thrusting fingers.
Katherine's thoughts spun out of control.
The world seemed to splinter into color and light.
It felt so good. His fingers were magic.
He was taking her higher and higher. She strained, wanting more.
She shuddered with pleasure and suddenly her body exploded, overwhelming her.
He shifted. His hand was gone, replaced by something bigger and stronger.
Instinctively, she moved her legs apart, wanting more, wanting him.
Iain tangled his hands in her hair. He felt the heat of her and took a deep breath.
He wanted to plunge into her, deep inside her, feel her surround him.
She moved her legs, shifting to open for him.
With a small cry, she lifted to him. He pushed into her with one strong stroke.
He felt resistance and vaguely wondered at the sensation, but his need was great and he had to have her.
She felt so tight, surrounding him with her heat.
He held still, deep within her, allowing her to adjust to the feel of him.
He strained with the effort to hold back. Slowly, he began to move again.
Katherine's eyes were wide, her heart pounding.
She felt him moving deep within her. At first, there had been pain, but now.
.. now it was pain edged with a fierce pleasure.
She began to rock against him, feeling the motion, striving for a rhythm.
He pulled away and she cried out, but just as quickly he was back, deep inside.
She felt the sensations building again, stronger this time.
She met his thrusts with her open, welcoming body and the fire began to grow again inside her.
Iain felt all control slip away as he climbed higher and higher, taking her with him in a dance older than time.
He shattered into a million joyous pieces.
He felt her shudders and knew that she, too, had found this magical place.
Tightening his arms around her, he held her, even as she held him, safe in the circle of what must surely be love.
Katherine's eyes flickered opened. She stretched, content in the warmth of the bed.
Slowly she turned her head to look at the man sleeping next to her.
The room was growing lighter with the hint of the coming dawn.
She could make out the hard angles and planes of his face.
Even in sleep, his strong features held a certain sensuality.
His cheeks and chin were dark with the stubble of his beard.
His long hair tangled about his shoulders, shining blue-black, soft and satiny.
His arm, thrown possessively around her waist, was powerfully muscled.
A scar, puckered and red, ran across his upper arm.
Long healed, it served as a reminder of what must have been a painful wound.
She could feel the strength and warmth of his thigh against her own.
His breathing was even. He slept deeply.
She reached out to touch him, her fingers brushing gently across his cheek.
He was incredible. Reluctantly, she pulled back and rolled away, untangling herself from his arms. She stood quietly by the bed, watching him sleep.
She knew she should be mortified. She had given herself to a stranger.
She ought to feel embarrassed or ashamed, but right now all she could feel was the heat of the magic they had created.
Still, her logical mind knew that with dawn the magic would end and the beauty of last night would become tainted by reality.
Better to leave now, she thought, and let the memory remain intact, a moment outside of time.
With a sigh, she drank in the sight of him, memorizing his powerful features.
The word "warrior" popped into her mind.
It was an apt description of the man. Yet she knew that, despite appearances, there was gentleness in his strong hands and in the firm curve of his lips.
With a last quick look, she turned to go.
Her foot touched the soft silk of her nightgown.
She slid it over her head, and resolutely walked to her room.
Crawling into bed, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Iain sat up, staring at the door connecting his chamber with hers.
She was gone. He had pretended to sleep, but it had taken all of his willpower to keep from reaching for her as she moved away.
Now, he sat in frustration, staring at the closed door.
He wanted her still. He felt his body stir and tighten.
Remembering the passion of last night, he closed his eyes, savoring the memory. He had been her first.
That was why he had pretended to sleep, allowing her to leave.
He had wanted to give her time to adjust to their joining.
With a groan, he realized that perhaps he had been wrong.
Now was not the time to be apart. Last night had been more than a bedding; it had been a pledge.
They belonged to each other as surely as if they were wed.
He smiled a little at the turn of his thoughts.
He had not considered himself a romantic man.
Experience had left him wary and cynical.
Suddenly, he knew that he must not lose what he had found last night. He could not let her go.
His mind made up, he rose from the bed and hurried to the connecting door.
It swung open on quiet hinges as he strode into the chamber.
The light was brighter now, the first pale rays of sunshine washing over the empty bed.
He stood there, unable to move. Empty ..
. it was empty. He quickly scanned the chamber.
Where was she? He tried to pull open the door leading from the chamber into the passageway.
It held fast. His brain finally registered the fact that the bar on the inside of the door was firmly locked in place.
Frustrated and strangely alarmed, he returned to his chamber.
Was it a dream then? His heart slammed painfully in his chest and he felt his body tighten in fear.
Surely not. It had felt real. No—it was real.
He frantically pulled the bed coverings aside.
In the center of the mattress he saw a small brownish stain.
Blood—it must be her blood. She had been a maiden.
He felt a rush of triumph and an overwhelming sense of tenderness.
But the feelings faded as he thought about the bolted door.
There was no other way to leave the chamber, and real people didn't disappear into thin air.
With a frustrated gesture, he pushed his hair out of his face.
She had to be real. He couldn't begin to believe otherwise.
He didn't know where she had gone, but that no longer mattered.
He would find her. He had to. In one night, with one act, she had irrevocably become his world.
He sat on the bed, running his hands over the mattress, searching for an indentation, traces of her warmth, something that proved she was real.
His hand stopped, closing around something small and cold.
He held it up, turning it in the strengthening light.
It was a stone of some kind, hanging on a small golden circle.
The smoky amber crystal glimmered in a shaft of sunlight.
He examined it closely. The workmanship was fine.
He flicked the fine gold loop with his finger and was surprised when it opened.
He smiled with recognition. An earring. Her earring.
She was real.
The sunlight danced upon the counterpane as it filtered in through the bedroom window.
Katherine woke groggily, turning to shut off the incessant buzzing of her travel alarm.
She lay for a moment in sleepy silence. She felt stiff and a little sore and for a moment wondered why.
Then, with a rush, memory flooded back. The other room.
The stranger. No, she thought, hardly a stranger.
She had never known anyone more intimately.
She was and always would be a part of him.
She had given him something she would never, could never, give again.
She marveled at the realization that she wasn't sorry.
She should have been, but she wasn't. Even now, safely ensconced in her own room, she had to admit there was a rightness about it that couldn't be denied.
It struck her that she was ashamed of her hasty exit from his room.
She owed him and herself more than that.
She got out of bed, marched resolutely to the connecting door, and before she had time to chicken out, pushed it open and walked into his room.
She stopped, confused. It wasn't his room at all.
It wasn't even a bedroom. It was a bathroom, and a small one at that.
With a frown, she walked back into her bedroom, forcing herself to take a good look at it.
The window was deep, but the glass was plain and it was definitely not set in an arch.
Against the adjacent wall, in the corner, there was a battered wingback chair and a rusty radiator.
The plastered wall behind them showed no signs of ever having held a fireplace.
The bed was tiny, about the same size as an American twin bed.
Katherine sank to the floor, her hands absently closing into the nap of the carpet.
Carpet.
Her head whirled. She looked frantically for another door.
There were only two. One she recognized immediately as the door to the hallway, as it sported the expected sheet of paper enumerating check-in and checkout times, along with various other hotel policies.
The other, the one she had just opened, was small and unadorned.
And it was flush to the wall, not set in an archway.
A dream. It had all been a dream. The most wonderful moment of her life was an illusion. Pain seared through her. No. Impossible. It had been so real. She felt bereft, as if someone she loved deeply had died.
She curled on the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks.
No, no, no. She huddled there for what seemed an eternity, until there were no more tears.
A dream, all a dream. Her heart still cried no, but her mind, searching for a logical conclusion had already accepted it. There was no other explanation.
Katherine sucked in a ragged breath and wiped angrily at her tears.
She was behaving like a fool. There was no sense in crying over a fantasy.
She stood up, automatically beginning to braid her heavy hair.
She frowned, instinctively recognizing that something felt wrong.
She raised both hands to her ears, checking for her earrings.
One was missing. With a sigh, she headed to the bed to look for it.
As she moved to pull back the covers, her nightgown slid off her shoulder, the silky blue fabric dropping almost to her elbow.
With a mumbled curse, she reached for the recalcitrant gown, then stopped short, sinking down onto the bed, staring down at herself.
She sucked in a breath and held it. Stunned, her eyes traced the line of her shoulder to the curve of her bare breast. There, on the soft peak, was a small reddish mark, a mark that surely had been left by a lover.