Wanting What She Can't Have(12)
He stood in the darkened room, hardly daring to breathe or move in case the angry monster that he could feel growing stronger inside him broke free. The monster that wanted to rail at the world for the unfairness that took Bree from him. The monster that was full of anger toward Bree herself, even though he could never openly express it, because she'd taken the choice of family or her away from him.
The monster that held the untold disgust he had with himself because, despite everything-the love he'd borne for Bree being paramount in his life-he still lusted for her friend, now more than ever before.
Seven
Alexis went through the motions of getting ready for bed but she was so wired right now she knew sleep would be impossible. Today had gone off well, if you discounted how it had left Raoul feeling. No one had seemed to mind when he'd cut and run from the gathering, not even Catherine who'd seemed to understand his need to be alone. The party had gone very pleasantly, even if she hadn't been able to enjoy it, too aware of Raoul's absence.
She'd not long thrown herself against the fine cotton sheets of her king-size bed and switched off her light when there was a gentle knock at the bedroom door. There was only one person that could be. She slid from the bed and walked quickly toward the door.
"Raoul?" she asked, as she turned the knob and opened the door wide.
His eyes flew across her, taking in her silk nightgown-one of her few indulgences from her time in Italy last year-and her bare feet in one sweep.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have disturbed you."
He went to walk away but she put out a hand to stop him.
"It's okay. Did you need me for something?"
He looked at her in the dark, and through the sheen of moonlight that filtered into her room she saw the glitter of his eyes. His face was pale, his whiskers a dark shadow on his cheeks and jaw. He'd never before looked so dangerous, or so appealing to her. She took an involuntary step back and saw the look of chagrin that crossed his face.
"I shouldn't have spoken to you like that."
"You're hurting. I-" She stopped herself before she could repeat her earlier words of understanding.
He'd been right. She couldn't possibly know or understand what he'd been through. Bree had been her friend for years, but the last two years of Bree's life she'd barely even spoken to her, battling with envy, then guilt, after Bree and Raoul had gotten together. Now, even though she desperately missed her friend, those bitter emotions were all still there. The envy that, even in death, her friend could command such unceasing love-and the guilt that she continued to not only want that for herself, but that she wanted it from the very same man.
She drew in a breath. "There's no need to apologize, Raoul. I should have been more sensitive to your needs."
"My needs? I don't even know what they are anymore. Sometimes I feel as if I don't know anything anymore."
She made a sound of sympathy and reached up to cup his face with one hand. "You've been through hell. You're still there. It's okay. I'll back off with the social stuff. You obviously need more time."
He lifted a hand to press against hers and she felt the heat of his palm on one side, the rasp of his unshaven jaw on the other. The mingled sensations sent a tingle of longing up her arm and she was appalled that even as the man was visibly struggling with a devastating loss, she couldn't hold her attraction back. That her body, having a recalcitrant mind of its own, was right now warming to his very presence. Her nipples were beading against the sheer fabric of her nightgown and she felt a long slow pull of hunger dragging from her core.
"Time is something I have too much of. Time to think. I don't want to think anymore, Alexis. For once, I just want to feel."
"Feel...?"
"Yes, feel. Something, anything other than the pain inside. I want the emptiness to go away."
He turned his head so that his lips were now pressing against her palm. If he'd seared her skin with a branding iron it couldn't have had a more overwhelming effect. She gasped at the jolt of electricity that shuddered through her hand and down her arm. When he bent his head to hers and his hot dry lips captured her own she felt her knees buckle beneath her. Momentarily she gave an inward groan at how clichéd her reaction was, but it was only seconds before awareness of clichés, or anything else other than this man and how he made her feel, fled from her consciousness.
All there was right now was scalding heat, flames of need licking up through her body as she clung to Raoul, as she anchored herself to his strength and poured all her years of forbidden longing into returning his kiss. When he lifted his mouth from hers she just stood there, dazed by the power of her feelings for him and by the emotion he aroused in her.
"Come with me, to my room," he rasped. "I can't do this in here."
She nodded, letting him draw her down the hallway and into his room. The bedroom door snicked closed behind them and he led her to his bed.
She tumbled into the sheets, Raoul following close behind. As the weight of his body settled against hers she flexed upward against him, pressing against the hard evidence of his arousal. He groaned against her throat, his unshaven jaw scraping softly against her skin, and she relished every sensation, every touch. It felt as if she'd put her whole life on hold for this very moment and she was going to savor every second of it.
Alexis fought open the buttons on Raoul's shirt, her fingertips eagerly skimming along the ridged muscles of his abdomen as she worked the garment away from his body and then off entirely. She wanted to touch every inch of him and then to taste every inch in turn. She trailed a gentle line down his neck and then skimmed over the strength of his shoulders before tracing the definition of his chest. Beneath her touch she felt him respond with tiny tremors, especially when she circled his nipples with the pad of her thumb then lifted her head to kiss him there.
He shifted, bearing his weight on one arm as he manacled her wrists with his free hand.
"But I want to touch you," she protested on a whispered breath.
"Too much," he said succinctly in reply before restraining her hands above her head.
She knew she could have pulled free at any time but there was something so decadently wonderful about being laid open to him like this. About giving him her trust, total and unquestioning.
He kissed along the line of her jaw, down her neck, making her squirm and arch her back, pushing herself upward, supplicant, toward him. And then, his mouth was at her breasts. Through the fine fabric of her nightgown she felt the warmth of his lips, his breath and then, oh, God, his tongue as he suckled on her.
His whole body shook with restraint as he lingered over each aching tip, sending shock waves of sensation tumbling over her and winding up the tension in her lower belly to near excruciating tautness. He let go of her hands to grab at the hem of her nighty and sweep it off her body, laying her bare to his scrutiny in the moonlit room.
A sense of unreality hit her, as if she was watching a black-and-white movie starring strangers coming together for the very first time. In a sense, that was exactly what was happening. Not for them a normal period of courtship. They'd been acquaintances, at best, when she'd run off overseas. Combatants since her return. For all that Alexis was falling in love with him, she barely knew him-not in all the ways that counted.
One thing she did know, though, was that in his time of need tonight, he'd turned to her rather than away. She would do whatever he wanted, give him whatever he needed of her, and along the way she'd receive a slice of what she had always wanted in return.
She moaned as Raoul continued his sensual onslaught on her body, his fingers and his tongue tracing a magical dance across the skin of her belly, and lower. When his tongue flicked across her center she all but jerked off the bed. It was as if every nerve in her body had congregated on that one point. It took bare seconds before she flew over the precipice and into the rolling swells of a climax so intense, so exquisite, that tears leaked from her eyes and down the sides of her face.
She was still riding the crest when she felt him shove his trousers off and move between her legs. With a guttural cry, he entered her still-spasming body. She felt herself stretch to accommodate his length, felt her inner muscles contract and squeeze against him, welcoming him into her heat, her heart. He thrust against her, deep and strong. She'd barely recovered from her first orgasm when she was in the throes of a second.