Читать книгу Perfect Proposals Collection - Lynne Marshall - Страница 45

CHAPTER EIGHT

AFTER his shower, Rhys dressed, headed for the kitchen and made a cafetière of coffee. He was sitting flicking through a medical journal, nursing a mug of coffee, when Katrina strolled into the room. Dressed casually in jeans and a light sweater, she looked absolutely edible; and when she gave him a shy, sweet smile, he really had to stop himself scooping her up, settling her on his lap and drinking the rest of his coffee with one arm wrapped round her.

Instead, he put the journal on the table and wrapped his hands round his coffee mug to keep them occupied. ‘Hi. Coffee’s still hot if you want some.’

‘This is getting to be a habit, you making me coffee.’ She smiled. ‘But it’s one I could get used to.’ She poured herself a mugful, adding plenty of milk. ‘Have you had breakfast yet?’

‘I waited for you.’

She smiled. ‘Then humour me. I’m going to experiment.’

‘Experiment?’ Oh, the thoughts that word conjured up.

She flushed to the roots of her hair, and he smiled. ‘You’re delicious. And I like the fact that your mind works the same way as mine.’

‘Stop it. I’m going to make breakfast. Get on with reading your journal.’

Was she trying to keep her hands occupied, he wondered, just like he was, so they didn’t end up ripping off each other’s clothes again?

And then he wished he hadn’t thought of that. Because he really, really wanted to take Katrina back to bed and spend the day discovering just where she liked to be touched, where she liked to be kissed.

She busied herself whipping up something in a bowl and heating butter in an omelette pan.

Pancakes for breakfast? he guessed. Sounded good to him.

‘I’ll get plates and cutlery,’ he said. Mainly because it meant he had to walk right past her and that gave him the perfect opportunity to drop a kiss on the nape of her neck. Just so she knew he hadn’t changed his mind while she’d been in the shower. That he still wanted her.

And then, when she tipped the contents of the bowl onto a board, rolled it out and cut out rounds, he realised what she’d just made.

Dough for Welsh cakes.

Not quite traditional ones, as she hadn’t added sultanas. But he could smell the sweet scent of cinnamon. And something else.

‘These are gorgeous,’ he said after the first bite. ‘Cinnamon?’

‘Sorry, it’s not quite traditional—but I loathe sultanas,’ Katrina said. ‘And the vanilla’s my mum’s trick.’ She smiled. ‘I love the scent of vanilla. And you can’t beat a really good vanilla ice cream.’

Eaten in bed, he thought, from one of the small half-litre tubs, sharing the spoon and feeding each other and…

‘Rhys?’

He shook himself mentally. ‘Sorry. Just thinking.’ But the picture was still there in his mind, and he couldn’t help the words sliding out. ‘You. Ice cream. Bed.’

She dragged in a breath. ‘Rhys.’

Her expression mirrored the longing in his head. Clearly she could imagine it, too.

‘We can’t.’ Lord, it was hard to call a halt when his whole body was crying out to him to just pick her up, carry her to her bed and make love with her until they were both out of their minds. ‘We need…’

‘Supplies,’ she finished.

‘Waiting’s going to make it even better,’ he said. Though right at that moment he wasn’t sure he believed that. Every sweet-scented bite of the Welsh cakes made him think of the sweetness of Katrina’s mouth and how much he wanted to kiss her.

Katrina had just about managed to get her libido back under control by the time they’d finished washing up. Though the look in Rhys’s eyes made breathing difficult. It made her remember just how it had felt when he’d kissed her, touched her, stroked her until her body had surged into a climax.

He’d expected nothing in return. Even turned down her offer to reciprocate.

Later tonight, she promised herself, she’d make it up to him.

And how.

She dragged on her fleece while he shrugged on a battered leather jacket. Added to his worn jeans and black sweater, it made him look dangerous. Sexy as hell. Katrina actually had to remind herself to breathe.

He held her hand all the way to the tube station. All the way on the tube. And all the way while they walked on Hampstead Heath, kicking through piles of autumn leaves.

‘I’ve missed this,’ he said, looking wistful.

‘So Cardiff is full of trees and parks?’

‘Not quite in the same way as London,’ he said. ‘I was thinking more of the village where I grew up. There’s a ruined castle with a huge park. I had a holiday job in the tearooms. And, best of all, it meant I got free entrance, so on a dry day I could study under the shade of a tree in the park. Just me, my books and the fresh air.’ He smiled. ‘And I used to really love walking there in the autumn. Crunching through the leaves and collecting the odd conker.’

Why hadn’t he studied at home in comfort, like she and Madison had? Katrina wondered. And if Rhys loved the countryside that much, it seemed odd that he’d chosen to work in a city hospital, rather than as a country GP where he’d get a chance to do house calls and be outside a lot. Or maybe it was something to do with the difficult family life he’d mentioned. A place of escape.

They had lunch, a panini and coffee, in a small café, then spent the rest of the afternoon browsing in the antique and bric-a-brac shops. When he spotted a chemist’s shop, Rhys excused himself, and Katrina felt her face heat. She knew exactly what he was going to buy. And she knew that getting ‘supplies’ was the right thing to do—but she also knew that she was going to spend the rest of the afternoon thinking about what they would do that evening when they got home.

Making love.

The ultimate in closeness.

The weight of his body over hers.

His body moving inside hers.

Excitement and desire shimmered down her spine.

When he walked back out into the street, she couldn’t think straight. And clearly she had some kind of goofy look on her face, because he asked softly, ‘Are you all right, Katrina?’

‘I’m fine,’ she fibbed.

‘Good.’ He took her hand, drew it up to his mouth and kissed the backs of her fingers. ‘I think,’ he said softly, ‘we should have an early dinner.’

She felt her eyes widen. ‘Rhys, we’re not really dressed…’

‘For an expensive restaurant, no.’ He drew her close to him and bent his head so he could whisper in her ear. ‘Katrina.’

She loved it that he’d thought to check she could hear him. ‘Yes?’

‘I would love to see you all dressed up. Especially knowing that I’d have the privilege later of undressing you again.’

His words sent a lovely shivery feeling all the way through her.

‘But the thing is, if we go back now and change, we might not get past the stage of taking these clothes off.’

Oh, lord. The pictures that put in her head.

His mouth brushed the sensitive spot by her ear. ‘So let’s go somewhere a little more casual. Eat. And then I’m taking you home.’

In the end they found a small trattoria. With candles and flowers on the table, the place felt incredibly romantic. Especially as their table was in a quiet corner, Katrina thought.

Every time she caught Rhys’s eye, every time her fingers brushed against his when they dipped their bread in the little dish of olive oil, a little throb of excitement pulsed through her. She could see on his face that it was the same for him. And when the waiter brought the dessert menu to them and asked them if they wanted coffee, Rhys glanced at her. She gave the tiniest shake of her head. She didn’t want pudding or coffee. Just him.

‘Just the bill, please,’ Rhys said with a smile.

Every second they waited seemed to take for ever. Everystep back to the tube felt like a mile. And the wait on the platform for a train, watching the clock and willing the minutes to speed by instead of drag by…

‘It’s a pity the train’s so empty,’ Rhys said when it finally arrived.

‘Why?’ she asked, mystified.

‘Because if it was full you’d have had to… Ah, what the hell. We’ll do it anyway.’ He sat down and pulled her onto his lap, catching her off balance so she had to put her arms round his neck for support.

‘Now, that,’ he said with a smile, ‘feels better.’

They didn’t talk on the train. Didn’t need to. And Rhys held her hand all the way from the tube station to her house. With every step, Katrina’s heart was racing. And the second the front door closed behind them, he spun her into his arms, dipped his head and kissed her.

She felt him slip her fleecy jacket off and drop it on the floor. His leather jacket followed.

‘Leave them,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll deal with it later. We’ve been sensible all day and I just can’t wait any more. I want you so much, Katrina.’ He took her hand again. Held her gaze. Kissed the tip of each finger, drawing it briefly into his mouth. She could see the flare of desire brighten in his eyes. And then he laced his fingers through hers.

‘I could do the caveman thing.’

‘You could,’ she agreed neutrally.

‘But I need to be sure you want this as much as I do. That I’m not pushing you.’

In answer, she drew his hands up to her mouth and kissed them. ‘You’re not pushing me. And I do want this. And I’m quite happy to be carried off by a gorgeous Welsh knight, even if his white charger isn’t actually with him.’ She stroked his face. ‘Except I’m not little, like Maddie, so I don’t want you to do your back in.’

He laughed. ‘Ah, now, cariad, you’re impugning my masculinity.’

She smiled and pressed herself against him. ‘I’m well aware that you’re a man, Rhys.’ All man. And how.

He dragged in a breath. ‘And you are irresistible, Katrina Gregory. Not girly—but you’re definitely all woman.’ He cupped her face, holding her very tenderly, as if she were something infinitely precious. He dipped his head, brushing his mouth against hers in a sweet, gentle kiss. And the second their lips touched, the kiss turned explosive, his tongue sliding against hers and mimicking the way his body would fill her later. Promising and demanding, at the same time. Cherishing and possessive. Claiming her as his and yet making it clear that what they were about to do would be very, very mutual.

She’d never wanted anyone as much as she wanted Rhys Morgan.

And when he finally broke the kiss, ending with a sweet, gentle caress and pulling back enough to look her in the eye, she whispered, ‘Now.’

She laced her fingers through his and led him up the stairs.

At the top, he paused. ‘And this is where I carry you to my room.’

Katrina shook her head. ‘My bed’s a double. Yours is a single and I’m too old to behave like a student.’

‘Old? Twenty-eight is hardly old.’ But he humoured her, let her draw him down the corridor to her room. At her doorway, he paused again. ‘Katrina.’

‘Yes?’

‘Caveman or knight. It’s the same thing.’ He pushed her door open, scooped her up and carried her over the threshold. He set her on her feet next to the bed, drew the curtains, then took the hem of her sweater and drew it upwards. She lifted her arms, letting him pull off her sweater; he traced along the lacy edges of her bra with one fingertip, a look of wonder on his face, clearly enjoying the contrast between the stiffness of the lace and the softness of her skin.

‘You’re so beautiful, cariad.’

She felt her face heat, and tried to cover her confusion by saying, ‘And you’re wearing way too much.’

‘Want to do something about it?’

She nodded, and he let her strip off his sweater. She stroked his arms, his shoulders, glorying in the feel of his skin under her fingertips, then let her hands trail down over his chest to his abdomen. ‘Rhys Morgan, you’re beautiful, too.’ She couldn’t remember desiring anyone so much. Rhys was just perfect. He wasn’t lean and skinny, but he wasn’t fat either—just beautifully toned, with powerful shoulders and strong biceps and narrow hips and strong thighs. He really did look like the Welsh knight she’d teased about being—noble, beautiful, his dark hair in sharp contrast to his pale skin and blue eyes. Perfect Celtic colouring. She could just imagine him as a knight, hundreds of years ago, his hair slightly longer. Sexy as hell.

‘Cariad? What are you thinking?’ he asked.

She told him, and he grinned. ‘Now, as the knight I’d have the honour of bedding my maiden fair.’ His expression sobered. ‘And that’s exactly what I want to do with you right now, Katrina.’

He drew one finger along her breastbone, then with his other hand he unsnapped her bra and let it fall to the floor. When he cupped her breasts, she tipped her head back, baring her throat to him. He took full advantage, kissing his way down her throat and stooping lower so he could take one nipple into his mouth. She dragged in a breath as he teased the hard peak with the tip of his tongue and then sucked hard. ‘Rhys.’

He stopped immediately. ‘You don’t like this?’

‘Ye-es.’

‘But?’

She swallowed hard. ‘It’s not enough. I need you, Rhys. Now. All day I’ve been thinking about you. About us. About tonight. And if you don’t make love with me this very second, I think I’m going to spontaneously combust.’

‘Your wish,’ he said, ‘is my command.’ He undid the button of her jeans, slid the zip down, and gently pushed the soft denim over her hips. She shimmied out of her jeans and kicked off her socks at the same time, so she was standing before him in nothing but a tiny pair of white lace knickers.

She was pleased to note that his pupils dilated and colour bloomed in his cheeks. ‘Katrina. I…’ He shook his head, as if clearing it, then stripped off the rest of his clothes in three seconds flat, picked her up and laid her on the bed.

His hands were sure yet gentle as he tipped her back against the pillows, and when he kissed his way down her body, she could feel the faint rasp of stubble. And somehow he found erogenous zones she hadn’t even known existed, making her wriggle beneath him, desperate for more. He circled her navel with his tongue, nuzzled her hipbones, and finally, finally slid his hands between her thighs, parting them. But when his hands moved lower, caressing the backs of her knees, she almost whimpered.

‘Rhys. Stop teasing me. Please. I need…’

‘I know. So do I. Hold that thought,’ he whispered, and stole a kiss before climbing off the bed.

Despite being completely naked, he was totally unselfconscious; Katrina couldn’t help watching him as he moved. He really was beautiful. Perfect musculature beneath that smooth skin. And she wanted. Lord, how she wanted.

He rummaged in his jeans, took the packet of condoms he’d bought earlier from the pocket and removed one.

‘My job, I think,’ she said, taking it from him as he joined her on the bed again. She undid the foil packet, then slid the condom over his erect penis, and she was gratified when he gave a sharp intake of breath. So he was in the same state as she was? Good.

He knelt between her thighs, and she sank back against the pillows. Just as she’d done that morning, when he’d tipped her over the edge of pleasure, unselfishly making sure that she was sated even though he hadn’t been.

And now…

Rhys kissed her again, then whispered, ‘Katrina?’

She opened her eyes. ‘Yes?’

‘Now?’

‘Now,’ she confirmed.

Slowly, gently, he eased his body into hers.

Katrina had had sex before. Made love before. But nothing had been like this. The way Rhys made her feel…

‘This feels like paradise,’ Rhys said softly.

That pretty much summed it up for her, too.

He slid his hands up her thighs, gently positioning her so that her legs were wrapped round his waist, and then he pushed deeper. Katrina couldn’t help giving a little ‘oh’ of pleasure. Rhys smiled, but not as if he was smugly pleased with himself—more that he was pleased he was making her feel so good.

He kissed her throat—hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses that had her quivering and clutching at his shoulders, wanting him even closer, needing the ultimate contact. She was aware of the hardness of his chest against the softness of her breasts, and the friction of the hair against her sensitised nipples was driving her crazy.

And then, as if Rhys knew she was right near the edge, he slowed everything down. Slowly, incredibly focused, he withdrew until he was almost out of her, then slid all the way back in again, putting pressure on just the right spot and making her feel as if she were floating.

When her climax hit, it felt like being in the middle of a storm, the dark skies lit by sheets of lightning.

‘Now,’ he whispered, and jammed his mouth against hers; she felt his body surge against hers, and knew that he too had just fallen over the edge.

Afterwards, she lay curled in his arms. ‘Any regrets?’ he asked softly.

‘No.’

‘Good.’

Part of her was almost too scared to ask, but she needed to know. ‘You?’

He stroked her face. ‘No.’

‘Good.’

‘But?’

It amazed her that he could read her so easily. That he’d picked up on the tiny, tiny fear. ‘I was just wondering…were you planning to go back to your own room?’

‘If you want me to.’ He shifted so he could look her in the eye. ‘But if there’s a choice of sleeping with you in my arms and waking up with you tomorrow morning…I’d definitely pick that one.’

Exactly what she wanted, too. ‘Yes,’ she said softly.

While he was in the bathroom, dealing with the condom, she removed her hearing aid and placed it in the case that she kept next to the clock. When he returned, he said something she didn’t catch.

‘Sorry. I’m minus sound,’ she said, feeling her face heat. ‘I, um, don’t sleep with my hearing aid in.’

He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘No need to apologise. I asked if you were sure about this.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Good.’ And, with that, he slid into bed beside her, switched off the light and gathered her into his arms, holding her close.

Katrina felt her eyelids droop; safe and secure in Rhys’s arms, she drifted off to sleep.