She had no idea whether her admission appalled or delighted him. If it delighted, he excelled at hiding it.
“You don’t miss your condominium?”
“Not really. It’s nice to mess around in the potting shed. And Toto and I both enjoy Anton’s and Mrs. Fitzwillie’s company.”
A flash of loneliness in the depths of his gray eyes transformed him from a successful, confident man to a small boy no one had made time for. Then he thrust his hands into his pockets and turned to contemplate the night through the glass door.
“Good, I’m glad.”
Kat didn’t stop to consider the ramifications of her actions. Instead she responded to his bleak expression. She tossed the carton of ice cream onto the island. Nothing seemed as essential as her husband at that moment. Closing the distance between them, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging the solid wall of his back, inhaling his scent. She felt the loneliness cloaking him as surely as she felt his tight muscles beneath her cheek, echoing her own soul-deep loneliness. God knows the price of honesty, but she couldn’t run any longer from whatever simmered between them.
“And you. Toto and I have grown accustomed to you. We enjoy your company. Late suppers at twilight. Back rubs in the dark.”
His heartbeat thundered against her cheek; his harsh breathing, loud in the silence, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator. Slowly he turned to face her, her arms still wrapped around him, bringing them into intimate contact.
Kat tilted back her head to search the gray morass of his eyes, but he’d effectively shuttered whatever he felt. His hand drifted along her jaw to tangle in her hair, leaving her trembling in the wake of his caress. He lowered his head until the hard line of his mouth hovered above hers.
“And what happens when you leave, Kat? Because you will. We both know it.” The warm intoxication of his breath tickled against her skin as the harsh stubble of his beard scraped, mirroring the dichotomy within her. She felt like shouting for joy and crying from melancholy, all at the same time. Dammit to hell, she’d made the deal to leave, but she wasn’t so sure of that path now.
“I don’t know anymore,” she whispered against his lips. “Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.” She pushed past his cool, crisp shirt, not content until she contacted the warm flesh that was Andrew.
“Seize the day, trust the least possible to the future,” he translated as his hand tightened in her curls and the other explored the frantic pulse at the base of her throat. “I don’t think either one of us can do that, since the future is why we’re here.” His eyes glittered with a hunger that defied further suppression. “But I fully intend to seize the moment, because if I don’t kiss you right now, I think I might die.”
The rough want texturing cool, calculating Andrew’s voice excited her. She flicked at the corner of his mouth with her tongue, savoring the taste of his skin. “That won’t do at all-” she no longer knew where her breath ended and his began “-since you’ve yet to make partner.”
“Contrary to your book, a good lawyer’s a terrible thing to waste,” he murmured before his lips spanned the millimeter separating them, effectively ending further coherent thought.
ANDREW DRAGGED HIS MOUTH away from the luscious fullness of Kat’s as they cleared the bedroom door. “I have one request.”
Kat ripped away the few remaining buttons she hadn’t conquered as they’d kissed their way from kitchen to bedroom. Pushing aside the starched fabric, her small hands feathered his bare skin, further intoxicating him. He felt drunk from the taste and feel of her.
“Yes?” Her husky purr brought to mind any number of additional requests. Her fingernail scraped against the hardened nub of his male nipple, the sensation arrowing straight to his groin.
“The green T-shirt. Put on that green T-shirt.”
Her hand stilled its exploration. “The lime-green one?”
“The one you’ve worn every night for the past week.”
Despite her evident uncertainty, she walked to the bathroom. “The green?”
He enjoyed the alien surge of reckless abandon invading him, compelling him to make love to his wife for no good reason except driving, mind-stupefying want. “The green.”
She closed the door between them and he quelled his impatience. He knew he should seek out and don his customary detachment. Like a man tossing back one too many drinks, he knew he’d regret his glib indulgence in the morning.
Kat emerged draped in the enormous, hideous T-shirt.
What the hell. He was destined for a Kat Winthrop hangover.
He rounded the bed in answer to the question in her eyes, advancing until her erect nipples brushed against his bare chest. Taking her hand in his, he moved slowly until her palm rested full measure against his straining erection. “I want you to know the effect your green T-shirt has on me.”
Her eyes widened once again as she cupped his obviously undiminished arousal. Her curves arched into him in full appreciation. “Oh, my.”
He slid his hands under the cotton shirt, impatient for the silk of her thighs and the rounded curve of her fanny that had kept him up so many nights-literally. He’d had any number of beautiful women and none had ever threatened his control like his wife.
His entire life had been one ongoing exercise in emotional restraint. Intellectually, he knew Kat was a means to an end. Emotionally, he felt she might be the meaning to all ends. And physically, he planned to immerse himself in her silken warmth until he satisfied her beyond reason.
KAT WRAPPED HER LEG around Andrew’s well-formed thigh and sighed from the pure bliss of sexual satisfaction. She reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a package of chocolate-covered raisins.
“Exquisite. Extraordinary,” she breathed, sinking back against the pillows, mired in a delicious languor.
Andrew arched a lazy, relaxed brow as she tugged open the cellophane candy wrapper. “Good chocolate?”
She curled her foot against the back of his knee, popping a raisin into her mouth. “The chocolate’s okay. The…that…us…just now.” She stumbled around her explanation. What they’d just experienced went beyond great sex. Andrew, with his tenderness and enthusiasm, had restored her feminine self-confidence that Nick had eroded throughout their marriage and finally stripped with his defection. And this time there’d been an emotional honesty between them. Unlike their previous lovemaking, there’d been no hiding behind ovulation and sperm counts.
A queer jolt flip-flopped inside her at Andrew’s smug grin. “Don’t you know it’s considered bad form to comment on performance?”
His relaxed teasing was heady stuff. She nibbled at the chocolate shell coating on the candy until it cracked. The sweet richness melted against her tongue. She and Andrew had been honest with each other from the beginning. Their truthfulness was one of the exhilarating components of their lovemaking.
“I’d say it’s bad form to let such a spectacular performance pass without proper accolade.” The last word slipped out on a breathless note as Andrew traced a circle on the slight mound of her belly.
“It was an honor to rise to the occasion.” A slight shifting of the sheet indicated a second occasion in the making. His hand traveled up to trek maddeningly against the soft underside of her breast. “Of course, I did have sublime inspiration.”
The dusky tips of her breasts tightened in response to the swift, slick heat brought on by his words and his touch. Kat arched against his hand. “Sublime?”
His tongue teased the corner of her mouth. “Absolutely sublime.”
She tossed the empty candy wrapper over the side of the bed and laid claim to his mouth hovering above hers. If she’d just defined sublime, she was ready to redefine it.
He withdrew his mouth and faced her with awe. “You ate all the candy, didn’t you?”