Nora Roberts - Sacred Sins

He laughed, but wasn’t entirely sure she was joking. “I’d better get those drinks.”

When he went into the kitchen, she rose to look at his view from the window. The streets weren’t as quiet as her neighborhood. Traffic moved by at a steady clip, droning and grunting along. He wouldn’t take himself far from the action, she thought, and remembered she hadn’t paid any attention to what direction he’d taken. She could be anywhere in the city. She expected unease, and instead felt a sense of freedom.

“I promised you music.”

She turned and looked at him. The simple dun-colored sweater and faded jeans he wore suited him. She’d thought once that he understood himself very well. Now it would be foolish to deny that she wanted to understand him.

“Yes, you did.”

He handed her a glass and thought about how different she was, and how different she looked from any other woman he’d brought here. That quiet class of hers demanded that a man swallow his lust and take the whole person. Wondering if he was ready to, he set down his own glass and flipped through his records.

When he set one on the turntable, Tess heard the brassy heat of jazz. “Leon Redbone,” she said.

He shook his head as he turned toward her. “You keep surprising me.”

“My grandfather’s one of his biggest fans.” Sipping her drink, she walked over to pick up the album cover. “It seems the two of you have quite a lot in common.”

“Me and the senator?” Ben laughed before he sipped his vodka. “I’ll bet.”

“I’m serious. You’ll have to meet him.”

Meeting a woman’s family was something he associated with wedding rings and orange blossoms. He’d always avoided it. “Why don’t we-” The phone rang and he swore, setting down his glass. “I’d ignore it, but I’m on call.”

“You don’t have to explain those things to a doctor.”

“Yeah.” He picked up the phone beside the couch. “Paris. Oh, yeah. Hi.”

It didn’t take a trained psychiatrist to understand there was a woman on the other end. Tess smiled into her drink and went back to the view.

“No, I’ve been tied up. Look, sugar-” The minute the word was out, he winced. Tess kept her back to him. “I’m on a case, you know? No, I didn’t forget about… I didn’t forget. Listen, I’ll have to get back to you when things lighten up. I don’t know, weeks, maybe months. You really ought to try that marine. Sure. See ya.” He hung up, cleared his throat, and reached for his drink again. “Wrong number.”

It was so easy to laugh. She turned, leaned against the windowsill, and gave in to it. “Oh, really?”

“Enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“Immensely.”

“If I’d known you’d get such a kick out of it, I’d have invited her up.”

“Ah, the male ego.” With one hand crossed over her body, she lifted the drink again. She was still laughing at him. The humor didn’t fade when he walked over and took the drink from her hand. The warm, approachable look was back. He felt the pull of it, the danger of it, the need for it.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“So am I.”

“You know, Doc…” He let his fingers play through her hair. The gesture was as friendly as before, but not as cautious. “There’s one thing we haven’t done together.”

She withdrew at that. He sensed it though she hadn’t moved away. He continued to toy with her hair as he drew her closer. His breath brushed over her lips.

“Dance,” he murmured, and laid his cheek against hers. Whether her sigh was of pleasure or relief, he didn’t know, but she was nearly relaxed against him. “There’s something I’ve noticed about you.”

“What?”

“You feel good.” His lips moved over her ear as they swayed, hardly moving from one spot. “Real good.” Ben-

“Relax.” He made long slow strokes up her back and down again. “Another thing I’ve noticed is that you don’t relax much.”

His body was hard against hers, his lips warm against her temple. “At the moment, it isn’t easy.”

“Good.” He liked the way her hair smelled, fresh and rich without the overlay of scented shampoos, gels, and sprays. From the easy way her body blended with his, he knew she wore nothing but skin under the sweater. He imagined away the layer of material and let the heat rise.

“You know, Doc, I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Her eyes were nearly closed, but it wasn’t because of relaxation. “You’ve got a lot on your mind with this case.”

“Yeah. But there’s something else that’s been on my mind.”

“What?”

“You.” He drew her back a little. Eyes open and on hers, he teased her mouth. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I think I have a problem.”

“I… my caseload’s pretty heavy right now.”

“Private sessions.” As he’d wanted to all evening, he slipped his hands under her sweater and let her skin warm him. “Starting tonight.”

She felt the ridge of callus below his fingers rub up her spine. “I don’t think-” But he stopped her with a kiss, a long, slow melding of lips that had his own heart racing. There was a hesitation in her that licked at his desire. She’d been a challenge from the beginning, and maybe a mistake. He was beyond caring.

“Stay with me, Tess.”

“Ben.” She drew out of his arms, wanting the distance, and the control. “I think we’re rushing this.”

“I’ve wanted you from the start.” It wasn’t his style to admit it, but this wasn’t the usual game.

She dragged a hand through her hair. She thought of the inscription in the book, the phone call. “I don’t take sex lightly, I can’t.”

“I’m not taking you lightly. I wish I could. It’s probably a mistake.” He looked at her again, fragile, delicate, elegant. It would be, could be, no fling, no easy romp in the sack with no morning repercussions. “I don’t give a damn, Tess.” Determined, but somehow less sure of himself, he took a step closer to frame her face in his hands. “I don’t want to go another night without you.” He bent to kiss her. “Stay.”

He lit candles in the bedroom. The music had stopped, and it was so quiet she thought she could almost hear the echo of it. She was trembling, and no amount of lecturing herself on being an adult and making her own choices would stop it. Nerves shivered through her. Needs twisted with them until they were one and the same. He came to her and gathered her close.

“You’re shaking.”

“I feel like a schoolgirl.”

“It helps.” He buried his face in her hair. “I’m scared to death.”

“Are you?” There was a smile on her lips as she put her hands to his face and drew him back.

“I feel, I don’t know, like some kid in the backseat of his father’s Chevy about to tackle his first bra snaps.” He put his hands to her wrists a moment, to hold himself back from touching her. “There’s never been anyone like you. I keep worrying that I’ll make the wrong move.”

Nothing he could have said would have reassured her more. She drew his face down to hers. Their lips met, just a nibble, just a test that threatened to grow to a hungry bite. “So far so good,” she murmured. “Make love with me, Ben. I’ve always wanted you to.”

He kept his eyes on hers as he drew up the bulky sweater. Then her hair was pooled over naked shoulders. There was moonlight and candlelight on her skin. He traced his own shadows over it.

She was never sure of herself on this level with a man. There was hesitation as she began to draw his sweater off. Beneath it his torso was lean and firm. A St. Christopher’s medal dangled above his breastbone. Tess ran her finger over it and smiled.

“It’s just for luck,” he told her.