Again he waited, patient as ever, and only when her hips moved restlessly did he begin to move inside her, leading her to the top of an incredible precipice, then waiting for her yet again.
And then, when her heart was pounding, her pulse racing and her whole body aching with the sweet torment of it, he carried her over the edge into magic, just as he’d promised he would.
Chapter Thirteen
Ben lay in bed, Kathleen cradled in his arms, sunlight now spilling over them from that amazing skylight in her bedroom ceiling. He was filled with an astonishing range of sensations that he’d never expected to experience.
Desire, of course. He hadn’t stopped wanting her for a single second all night long. No matter how many times they’d made love—and he’d lost count of that—he’d wanted more. He wished he could attribute that to the long, dry spell in his love life, but that wasn’t it and he knew it. It was all about Kathleen and what she did to scramble his senses.
Then there was the raging possessiveness she inspired. He wanted her to be his and his alone, even though he knew that he was incapable of making the same level of commitment. Sooner or later he was going to have to face facts—he couldn’t have one without the other.
And then there was the flood of protectiveness that nearly overwhelmed him. He would die before he let anyone hurt her ever again.
And finally fear, because despite all the rest, he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to risk his heart, to chance another loss. Kathleen deserved nothing less than a man who could share himself completely and without reservations, and he could lose her because he couldn’t give her what she needed.
Mack had been wrong. Getting her into bed wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.
She stirred against him and that alone was enough to make him forget the fear for now. There would be time enough to worry about that when he was back out at the farm, alone, his equilibrium restored.
“Hey, sleepyhead, wake up,” he murmured against her ear.
“Mmmm?”
“It’s morning.”
She moaned and snuggled more tightly against him. That was no way to get them both up and out of this bed, Ben concluded. Most of the ideas raging around in his head, in fact, involved this bed and a long, leisurely day spent right here. That was probably not a good idea. If he stayed now, he might never want to leave. History told him that as soon as he wanted anything that much, wanted anyone that much, he was doomed to lose them.
He forced himself to ease away from Kathleen and sit on the side of the bed, ignoring her little whimper of protest. It was harder to ignore the sneaky hand that reached unerringly for a part of him that had no thought processes at all, only feeling. He’d spent the whole night listening to that part of his anatomy. It was time for his brain to kick back into gear.
“Oh, no, you don’t, you wicked, wicked woman,” he said lightly, ignoring the temptation. “It’s a workday.”
“Doesn’t have to be,” she mumbled sleepily.
“You’d leave the gallery closed and spend the whole day right here?” he asked skeptically. She’d always struck him as a businesswoman, first and foremost. She’d never abandon potential customers to seek her own pleasure.
She rolled over and blinked at him. “In a heartbeat, as long as you’ll stay with me,” she said without hesitation, proving him wrong.
Now that raised an interesting quandary, Ben decided. It left him with a dangerous choice. He opted for emotional safety, as always. “Wish I could, but I can’t.”
“I don’t see why. After all, you keep telling me you’re not a professional artist, so it can’t be that you have to rush back to your studio to complete a painting.”
“No, it’s not that,” he agreed, almost regretting that he couldn’t claim that as an easy excuse, one she would readily understand. “But if I don’t show my face around Destiny’s this morning, she’s liable to come over here pounding on the door to see for herself what we’ve been up to.”
“Your own fault. She could only do that because you blabbed that we had a date,” Kathleen reminded him. “Why you let her in on that little tidbit is beyond me.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “I merely told her I was coming into town. Then Mack called and asked me point-blank if I was seeing you. I made the mistake of admitting that we had a date. Foolishly, I thought he’d keep it to himself.”
“And now it’s costing you,” she concluded, sliding from the opposite side of the bed wrapped in a sheet. She frowned at the clock. “Serves you right that there’s not even time for me to bake you some muffins, if I’m expected to open the gallery right on time.”