Convincing Alex
Page 34
Then, wanting that instant of sheer pleasure again, he drove her up a second time, shuddering himself as her body convulsed and flowed with the crest of the wave. At last, unable to wait a moment longer, he slipped inside that hot, moist sheath. Her groan of stunned delight echoed his own.
Slowly, as in a dream, her arms lifted to wrap around him. She rose to meet him, to take him deep. They moved gently at first, treasuring the intimacy, willing to prolong it. But need outpaced them, driving them faster, until, thrust for thrust, they sprinted toward the final crest.
His hand fisted in her hair as the last link of control snapped clean. Her name exploded from his lips like an oath as he emptied himself into her.
She wondered how she could ever have thought herself experienced. While it was true she hadn't been with as many men as some thought, she hadn't come to Alexi an innocent.
Yet things had happened tonight that had never happened before. And, because she was a woman who understood herself well, she knew that nothing she had experienced here would happen again—unless it was with him. Relaxed now, she rubbed her cheek over his chest, content to remain as she'd been since he rolled over and dragged her across him. Tucked in the cocoon of his arms, she felt as cozy as a cat, and she arched lazily as he ran a hand down her spine.
"Will you tell me again?" she asked.
"What?"
She pressed her lips against him, feeling his heart beating strong and fast beneath them. "What every woman wants to hear."
"I love you." When she lifted her head, he laid a hand gently over her lips. He knew it would hurt to hear her say it, when she didn't mean it as he did.
Suddenly she was glad it was dark, and he couldn't see the smile fade away from her face. "Even after this," she said carefully, "you don't want me to love you back."
More than anything, he thought. More than life. "Let's just leave things as they are." He traced her face with a fingertip, enjoying those odd angles. "Tell me how you broke your nose."
She was silent a moment, gathering her composure. She couldn't offer what he didn't want to take. "Fistfight."
He chuckled and drew her back to cuddle, instinctively soothing the tension out of her. "I should have figured."
She made an effort to relax against him. There was time to convince him. Hadn't he said they had plenty of time? "At boarding school," she added. "I was twelve and homely as a duck. Too skinny, funny hair, dumb face."
"I like your face. And your hair." His hand cupped her breast comfortably. "And your body."
"You didn't know me when I was twelve. When you're odd in any way, you're a target."
"I know."
Interested, she lifted her head again. "Do you?"
"I didn't learn English until I was five. Before my father's business got off the ground, times were rough." He turned his face into her hair to breathe in the scent. "I was this little Ukrainian kid, wearing my brother's hand-me-downs. And back then, Soviets weren't particularly popular with Americans."
"Well, you made such great villains." She kissed his cheek, comforting the small boy he'd been. "It must have been difficult for you."
"I had the family. We had each other. School was a little rugged at first. Name-calling, playground scuffles. Even some of the parents weren't too keen on having their kids play with the Russkie. No point in trying to explain we were Ukrainian." He shifted, tangled his legs with hers. "So, after a few black eyes and bloody noses, I earned a reputation for being tough. After a while, we kind of got absorbed into the neighborhood."
"What neighborhood?"
"Brooklyn. My parents still live there. Same house." With a shake of his head, he drew back. He could make her out now in the dark, could see the way her eyes were smiling at him. "How come we're talking about me, when I asked you about your nose?"
"I like hearing it."
"There was a fistfight," he said, prompting her.
Bess sighed. "One of those girl cliques," she began. "You know the type. The cool kids, all hair and teeth and attitude. I was the nerd they liked to pick on."
"You were never a nerd."
"I was a champion nerd. Gawky, top of the class academically, socially inept."
"You?"
There was such pure disbelief in the tone, she laughed. "Which of those descriptions don't you buy, Alexi?"
He considered a moment. "Any of them."
"I guess I'm two-thirds flattered and one-third insulted. I was tall for my age and skinny. A very late bloomer in the bosom and hips department."
"You might have bloomed slow," he began, proving his point with a sweep of his hand, "but you bloomed very well."
"Thank you. My mind, however, had developed quite nicely. Straight A's."
"No kidding?" He grinned in the dark. "And you were the kid who always trashed the grading curve for the rest of us."
"That's the idea. Added to that, I was more comfortable with a book, or thinking, than I was tittering. Young girls do a lot of tittering. Because I was hardheaded, I automatically took a dislike to anything that was popular or fashionablc at the time. As a result, I took a lot of flak. Bess the Mess, that sort of thing."
She paused long enough to shift some pillows. "Anyway, we had this history exam coming up. One of the cool kids—her name was Dawn Gallagher… Heart-shaped face, perfect features, long, flowing blond hair. You get the picture."
"Prom-queen type."
"Exactly. She was flunking big-time and wanted me to let her copy from my paper. She'd made my life adolescent hell, and she figured if she was nice to me for a couple of days, let me stand within five feet of her, maybe sit at the. same lunch table, I'd be so grateful, I'd let her."
"But you hung tough."
"I don't cheat for anybody. The upshot was, she flunked the exam, and her parents were called to the school for a conference. Dawn retaliated by pinching me whenever I got too close, getting into my room and breaking my things, stealing my books. Small-time terrorism. One day on the basketball court—"
"You shot hoop?"
"Team captain. I was an athletic nerd," she explained. "Anyway, she tripped me. If that wasn't bad enough, she had a few friends on the other team. They elbowed the hell out of me during the game. I had bruises everywhere."
Slowly, as in a dream, her arms lifted to wrap around him. She rose to meet him, to take him deep. They moved gently at first, treasuring the intimacy, willing to prolong it. But need outpaced them, driving them faster, until, thrust for thrust, they sprinted toward the final crest.
His hand fisted in her hair as the last link of control snapped clean. Her name exploded from his lips like an oath as he emptied himself into her.
She wondered how she could ever have thought herself experienced. While it was true she hadn't been with as many men as some thought, she hadn't come to Alexi an innocent.
Yet things had happened tonight that had never happened before. And, because she was a woman who understood herself well, she knew that nothing she had experienced here would happen again—unless it was with him. Relaxed now, she rubbed her cheek over his chest, content to remain as she'd been since he rolled over and dragged her across him. Tucked in the cocoon of his arms, she felt as cozy as a cat, and she arched lazily as he ran a hand down her spine.
"Will you tell me again?" she asked.
"What?"
She pressed her lips against him, feeling his heart beating strong and fast beneath them. "What every woman wants to hear."
"I love you." When she lifted her head, he laid a hand gently over her lips. He knew it would hurt to hear her say it, when she didn't mean it as he did.
Suddenly she was glad it was dark, and he couldn't see the smile fade away from her face. "Even after this," she said carefully, "you don't want me to love you back."
More than anything, he thought. More than life. "Let's just leave things as they are." He traced her face with a fingertip, enjoying those odd angles. "Tell me how you broke your nose."
She was silent a moment, gathering her composure. She couldn't offer what he didn't want to take. "Fistfight."
He chuckled and drew her back to cuddle, instinctively soothing the tension out of her. "I should have figured."
She made an effort to relax against him. There was time to convince him. Hadn't he said they had plenty of time? "At boarding school," she added. "I was twelve and homely as a duck. Too skinny, funny hair, dumb face."
"I like your face. And your hair." His hand cupped her breast comfortably. "And your body."
"You didn't know me when I was twelve. When you're odd in any way, you're a target."
"I know."
Interested, she lifted her head again. "Do you?"
"I didn't learn English until I was five. Before my father's business got off the ground, times were rough." He turned his face into her hair to breathe in the scent. "I was this little Ukrainian kid, wearing my brother's hand-me-downs. And back then, Soviets weren't particularly popular with Americans."
"Well, you made such great villains." She kissed his cheek, comforting the small boy he'd been. "It must have been difficult for you."
"I had the family. We had each other. School was a little rugged at first. Name-calling, playground scuffles. Even some of the parents weren't too keen on having their kids play with the Russkie. No point in trying to explain we were Ukrainian." He shifted, tangled his legs with hers. "So, after a few black eyes and bloody noses, I earned a reputation for being tough. After a while, we kind of got absorbed into the neighborhood."
"What neighborhood?"
"Brooklyn. My parents still live there. Same house." With a shake of his head, he drew back. He could make her out now in the dark, could see the way her eyes were smiling at him. "How come we're talking about me, when I asked you about your nose?"
"I like hearing it."
"There was a fistfight," he said, prompting her.
Bess sighed. "One of those girl cliques," she began. "You know the type. The cool kids, all hair and teeth and attitude. I was the nerd they liked to pick on."
"You were never a nerd."
"I was a champion nerd. Gawky, top of the class academically, socially inept."
"You?"
There was such pure disbelief in the tone, she laughed. "Which of those descriptions don't you buy, Alexi?"
He considered a moment. "Any of them."
"I guess I'm two-thirds flattered and one-third insulted. I was tall for my age and skinny. A very late bloomer in the bosom and hips department."
"You might have bloomed slow," he began, proving his point with a sweep of his hand, "but you bloomed very well."
"Thank you. My mind, however, had developed quite nicely. Straight A's."
"No kidding?" He grinned in the dark. "And you were the kid who always trashed the grading curve for the rest of us."
"That's the idea. Added to that, I was more comfortable with a book, or thinking, than I was tittering. Young girls do a lot of tittering. Because I was hardheaded, I automatically took a dislike to anything that was popular or fashionablc at the time. As a result, I took a lot of flak. Bess the Mess, that sort of thing."
She paused long enough to shift some pillows. "Anyway, we had this history exam coming up. One of the cool kids—her name was Dawn Gallagher… Heart-shaped face, perfect features, long, flowing blond hair. You get the picture."
"Prom-queen type."
"Exactly. She was flunking big-time and wanted me to let her copy from my paper. She'd made my life adolescent hell, and she figured if she was nice to me for a couple of days, let me stand within five feet of her, maybe sit at the. same lunch table, I'd be so grateful, I'd let her."
"But you hung tough."
"I don't cheat for anybody. The upshot was, she flunked the exam, and her parents were called to the school for a conference. Dawn retaliated by pinching me whenever I got too close, getting into my room and breaking my things, stealing my books. Small-time terrorism. One day on the basketball court—"
"You shot hoop?"
"Team captain. I was an athletic nerd," she explained. "Anyway, she tripped me. If that wasn't bad enough, she had a few friends on the other team. They elbowed the hell out of me during the game. I had bruises everywhere."
