Man of the Hour: Night Of Love

“Steve…” she protested uncertainly.

“One kiss,” he whispered back gruffly. “Is that so much to ask?”

“We shouldn’t,” she whispered at his lips.

“I know…” His hard mouth brushed over hers slowly, suggestively. His powerful body went very still and his free hand moved to her throat, stroking it tenderly. His thumb tugged at the lower lip that held stubbornly to its mate and broke the taut line.

Her hands pressed at his shirtfront, fascinated by warm, hard muscle and a heavy heartbeat. She couldn’t quite manage to push him away.

“Mary Margaret,” he breathed jerkily, and then he took her mouth.

“Oh, glory…!” she moaned, shivering. It was a jolt like diving into ice water. It burned through her body and through her veins and made her go rigid with helpless pleasure. He was far more expert than he’d been even four years ago. His tongue gently probed its way into the warm darkness of her mouth and she gasped at the darting, hungry pressure of its invasion. He tasted of smoke and mint, and his mouth was rough, as if he’d gone hungry for kisses.

While she was gathering up willpower to resist him, he reached down and lifted her in his hard arms, crushing her into the wall of his chest while his devouring kisses made her oblivious to everything except desire. At the center of the world was Steve and his hunger, and she was suddenly, shockingly, doing her very best to satisfy it, to satisfy him, with her arms clinging helplessly around his neck.

He lifted his mouth to draw in a ragged breath, and she hung there with swollen lips, wide-eyed, breathing like a distance runner.

“If you don’t stop,” she whispered unsteadily, “I’ll tear your clothes off and ravish you right here on the carpet!”

Despite his staggering hunger, the humor broke through, as it always had with her, only with her. There had never been another woman who could make him laugh, could make him feel so alive.

“Oh, God, why can’t you shut up for five minutes?” he managed through reluctant laughter.

“Self-defense,” she said, laughing, too, her own voice breathless with traces of passion. “Oh, Steve, can you kiss!” she moaned.

He shook his head, defeated. He let her slide down his body to the floor, close enough to feel what had happened to him.

“Sorry,” she murmured impishly.

“Only with you, honey,” he said heavily, the endearment coming easily when he never used them. He held her arms firmly for a minute before he let her go with a rueful smile and turned away to light another cigarette. “Odd, that reaction. I need a little time with most women. It was never that way with you.”

She hadn’t thought about it in four years. Now she had to, and he was right. The minute he’d touched her, he’d been capable. She’d convinced herself that he never wanted her, but her memory hadn’t dimmed enough to forget the size and power of him in arousal. She’d been a little afraid of him the first time it had happened, in fact, although he’d assured her that they were compatible in every way, especially in that one. She didn’t like remembering how intimate they’d been, because it was still painful to remember how it had all ended. Looking back, it seemed impossible that he could have gone to Daphne after they argued, unless…

She stiffened as she remembered how desperately he’d wanted her. Had he been so desperate that he’d needed to spend his desire with someone else?

“Steve,” she began.

He glanced at her. “What?”

“What you said, earlier. Was it difficult for you,” she said slowly. “Holding back?”

“Yes.” His face changed. “Apparently that didn’t occur to you four years ago,” he said sarcastically.

“A lot of things didn’t occur to me four years ago,” she said. She felt a dawning fear that she didn’t want to explore.

“Don’t strain your memory,” he said with a mocking smile. “God forbid that you might have to reconsider your position. It’s too damned late, even if you did.”

“I know that. I wouldn’t…I have my career.”

“Your career.” He nodded, but there was something disconcerting in the way he said it, in the way he looked at her.

“I’d better see about the roast,” she murmured, retreating.

He studied her face with a purely masculine appreciation. “Better fix your lipstick, unless you want David making embarrassing remarks.”

“David is terrified of me,” she informed him. “I once beat him up in full view of half our classmates.”

“So he told me, but he’s grown.”

“Not too much.” She touched her mouth. It was faintly sore from the pressure of his hard kisses. She wouldn’t have expected so much passion from him after four years.

“Did I hurt?” he asked quietly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You always were a little rough when we made love,” she recalled with a wistful smile. “I never minded.”

His eyes kindled and before he could make the move his expression telegraphed, she beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen. He was overwhelming at close range, and she couldn’t handle an affair with him. She didn’t dare try. Having lived through losing him once, she knew she’d never survive having to go through it again. He still wanted her, but that was all. She was filed under unfinished business, and there was something a little disturbing about his attitude toward her. It wasn’t quite unsatisfied passion on his part, she thought nervously. It was more like a deeply buried, long-nurtured vendetta.

It was probably a good thing that she was going back to New York soon, she thought dimly. And not a minute too soon. Her knees were so wobbly she could barely walk, and just from one kiss. If he turned up the heat, as he had during their time together, she would never be able to resist him. The needs she felt were overpowering now. She was a woman and she reacted like one. It was her bad luck that the only man who aroused her was the one man she daren’t succumb to. If Steve really was holding a grudge against her for breaking off their engagement, giving in to him would be a recipe for disaster.

Supper was a rather quiet affair, with Meg introspective and Steven taciturn while David tried to carry the conversation alone.

“Can’t you two say something? Just a word now and again while I try to enjoy this perfectly cooked pot roast?” David groaned, glancing from one set face to the other. “Have you had another fight?”

“We haven’t been fighting,” Meg said innocently. “Have we, Steve?”

Steven looked down at his plate, deliberately cutting a piece of meat without replying.

David threw up his hands. “I’ll never understand you two!” he muttered. “I’ll just go see about dessert, shall I? I shall,” he said, but he was talking to himself as he left the room.

“I don’t want any,” she called after him.

“Yes, she does,” Steve said immediately, catching her eyes. “You’re too thin. If you lose another two or three pounds, you’ll be able to walk through a harp.”

“I’m a dancer,” she said. “I can’t dance with a fat body.”

He smiled gently. “That’s right. Fight me.” Something alien glittered in his eyes and his breathing quickened.

“Somebody needs to,” she said with forced humor. “All that feminine fawning has ruined you. Your mother said that lines of women form everywhere you go these days.”

His eyes contemplated his coffee cup intensely and his brow furrowed. “Did she?” he asked absently.

“But that you never take any of them seriously.” She laughed, but without much humor. “Haven’t you even thought about marrying?”

He looked up, his expression briefly hostile. “Sure. Once.”

She felt uncomfortable. “It wouldn’t have worked,” she said stiffly. “I wouldn’t have shared you, even when I was eighteen and naive.”

His eyes narrowed. “You think I’m modern enough in my outlook to keep a wife and a mistress at the same time?”