Come Lie With Me - Linda Howard [47]
She quirked one eyebrow. That statement alone verified her suspicion that he hadn’t been aware of her as a woman, not really. She half-turned her back to him as she rubbed her hands down the calf of his right leg, hoping that the vigorous massage would lessen any cramps he might have. When the warm touch of his hand rested on her bare thigh, under her skirt, she gave a stifled half scream and jerked up straight.
“Blake!” she yelped, pushing frantically at his hand in an effort to dislodge it from under her dress. “Stop it! What are you doing?”
“You’re playing with my legs,” he retorted calmly. “Turnabout’s fair play.”
His fingers were between her legs while his thumb was on the outside of her thigh, and she flinched from the feel of his hand as her other leg instinctively pressed against him to halt the upward movement. Her face flushed brightly.
“I like that,” he said huskily, his eyes bright. “Your legs are so strong, so sleek. Do you know what you feel like? Cool satin.”
She twisted, trying to loosen his grip, and to her dismay his fingers slid even higher. She sucked in a lungful of air and held it, going still, her eyes wide and alarmed as she tried to still the flare of panic in her stomach. Her heart lurched drunkenly in her chest.
“Let me go, please,” she whispered, hoping that the trembling of her voice wouldn’t be as noticeable if she didn’t try to talk loudly.
“All right,” he agreed, a little smile moving his lips. Just as she began to sag in relief, he added, “If you’ll kiss me.”
Now her heart was slamming so wildly that she pressed her hand to her chest in an effort to calm it. “I…just one kiss?”
“I can’t say,” he drawled, staring at her lips. “Maybe, maybe not. It depends on how well we like it. For God’s sake, Dee, I’ve kissed you before. You won’t be violating any sacred vow not to become involved with a patient. A kiss isn’t what I’d term an involvement.”
Despite her efforts to hold her legs together and trap his wandering hand, he somehow moved a little higher.
“It’s only a kiss,” he cajoled, holding his left hand out to her. “Don’t be shy.”
She wasn’t shy, she was terrified, but she could still hold on to the thought that Blake wasn’t Scott. That alone gave her the courage to lean down and touch her lips to his as lightly, as delicately, as a breath of air. She drew back and stared down at him. His hand remained on her leg.
“You promised,” she reminded him.
“That wasn’t a kiss,” he replied. The expression in his eyes was intent, watchful. “A real kiss is what I want, not a child’s kiss. I’ve been a long time without a woman. I need to feel your tongue on mine.”
Weakly she leaned against the table. I can’t handle this, she thought wildly, then stiffened as the thought formed in her brain. Of course she could; she could handle anything. She’d already been through the worst that could happen to her. This was just a kiss, that was all…
Though her soft, generous mouth trembled against his, she gave him the intimate kiss he’d requested, and she was startled to feel him begin to shake. He removed his hand from her leg and placed both arms around her, but he held her without any real force, only a warm sort of nearness that failed to alarm her. The hair on his bare chest was tickling her above the fabric of her sundress; the faintly musky smell of him filled her lungs. She became aware of the warmth of his skin, the roughness of his chin against her smooth skin, the light play of his tongue against hers. Her eyes had been open, but now they slowly closed, and she became lost in a world of sensation, the light only a redness against her lids, her senses of touch and smell intensified by the narrowing of her concentration.
That was what she wanted, she reminded herself dimly.