"Come in, Bryn."
She realized then that he was sitting up in his bed, casually watching her. His back was straight; the moon bathed his shoulders and caught the golden glitter of his eyes.
He had expected her; he had awaited her. He knew all the moves of the night; he sensed them with an ancient and primitive awareness.
Run, she told herself. This is the greatest danger you have faced. You'll wind up losing your soul to him.
Her heart continued to beat like thunder. Her body and soul seemed gripped by fear and pain.
But she took a step into the room.Going to him. From the very beginning, she had been compelled to do so.
Chapter 9
The room was shadowed in the mist of night, and yet he saw color, enhanced by the gentle beams of the moon. He saw the long and luxurious copper waves of her hair, the dark fringed lime of her widened eyes.
The ivory of her flesh.Of her throat, exposed by the open collar of her shirt, of her supple legs,bared Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
beneath its tails.Color, and provocative silver mist.
Her form was part substance, part mist, as she created a striking silhouette in the doorway. The moonbeams cut through the shadows, and her slender frame was highlighted as the fabric of his shirt was made translucent. He could see the fullness of her curves, and he longed to touch the deeper shadow where the night conspired to shield her in a cloak of enticing innocence.
She seemed to hover uncertainly, and he thought of her then with a touch of wistful fancy. She was a bit like a beautiful nymph, caught by the silver of the moon.A sweet promise of the night, delicate and breathtakingly lovely. But like a glimmering shaft of moon silver, she would be ethereal. He could not do as his heated passions dictated and bolt to the door to imprison her in his arms; like a mist in darkness she could disappear, and he would hold nothing but empty air....
She was real.A woman of soft, warm flesh and vibrantly flowing blood. And his heart longed to reach out to her as much as his hands. But his instinct to hold back was also real. He had to allow her to come to him. He didn't understand why she was afraid, only that she was. And that she had to take the first steps herself if he was ever to truly hold her.
And so after his initial invitation, he sat silently, waiting.Scarcely breathing.His pose was relaxed, but within he trembled, desire and tenderness combining to flow explosively through his system.
She started to walk to him.Slowly. And with each step she became more real. He heard the soft whisper of her breath. The subtle scent of her perfume wafted over him like a tantalizing caress.
At the foot of the bed she stopped, her eyes beseeching him. Her lashes fell, and she bowed her head slightly. Soft tendrils of silken hair fell about her features to cloak them in a copper enigma.
"Lee?" she murmured, and there was pleading in her quiet tone.
He leaned forward, determined that when he reached out, it would not be for an illusion. "Let me see your eyes, Bryn," he told her. She lifted her head once more, tossing back her hair with a gesture of defiant bravado. Her eyes met his.
"I have to know," he told her, and his voice came out far more harshly than he had intended. "Are you here because you're frightened?"
"No," she said softly. "Would it matter?" He smiled. "No. Not tonight."
And it was true. He had let her slip through his fingers once; tonight, no matter why she had come, he had to have her. But he also had to ask her.
And now he felt that he had forced her to come far enough. He could feel that she stood there, quivering, and that she could come no farther unless he did reach out to her.
He tossed his sheet aside and stood, and she saw that he was naked. Her eyes ran inadvertently over the length of his body and then met his once more. He started walking toward her, as slowly as she had come to him.
He paused, a hair's breadth away, not touching her. His voice was still harsh. "You don't owe me anything, you know," he told her.
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"I know," she said simply.
His hands moved out to encircle her neck, his thumbs absently massaging her cheeks. And then they moved, sliding beneath the collar of the shirt tomold her shoulders and collarbone. His further advance was restricted by the buttons, and he withdrew for a moment, staring at her as he opened the first button, then following the movement of his fingers with his eyes until he reached the last.