Thorne Brothers: With All My Heart Part 19

Berkeley raised her arms obediently so he could remove her chemise, and they remained that way while he slipped her sheer nightshift over her head. Her head lolled forward. He lowered her arms and kissed the silky back of her neck. A gentle push was all she required to move toward the bed.

A few minutes later Grey turned back the lamps and crawled in beside her. Berkeley rolled toward him. She rubbed her chilled, slightly damp toes against his legs. Grey pushed Pandora out of bed before she burrowed under the covers and began licking his feet. He slipped one arm under Berkeley's pillow. Their foreheads almost touched. Her palm lay flat against his chest, and he covered it with his hand.

Grey thought about what she'd said when she held his palm in her hands. His voice barely reached the level of a whisper.

"Did you know you were the woman who would complicate my life?"

Dawn came to San Francisco in all its monochromatic splendor. Milky and murky, fog blanketed the city. Cool gray fingers of it crept into the room from the square. Berkeley remembered that she hadn't closed the window. She opened one eye and promptly closed it again.

"You're awake," Grey said quietly.

"No," she said. "I'm not."

One of his dark brows arched lazily. "Oh."

Berkeley became aware of how close she was to him. She did not need to open her eyes to understand the band of heat around her waist was Grey's arm or that the warmth she felt between her legs was because he had insinuated one of his own there. Her nightdress had risen almost to the level of her hips. She reached under the blankets to push the hem lower and her hand brushed Grey's erection. His flannel drawers covered his arousal. They also outlined it.

"I know I'm awake," Grey said.

Berkeley did not move away. She moved closer. Grey's hand pressed the base of her spine, and her hips tilted forward. She held him in the cleft of her thighs. She raised her face and kissed the underside of his chin. His mouth came down on hers. The touch was soft, sweet. There was no hurry here. The exploration was languorous, vaguely sleepy in spite of Grey's words to the contrary.

"Berkeley?"

"Hmmm?"

"You do know what you're doing, don't you?"

What she was doing was tugging at the string securing his drawers. When the knot gave way her fingers slipped under the material. She cupped him in her hands. Her lips tickled his as she whispered against his mouth. "You showed me yesterday."

A chuckle vibrated at the back of Grey's throat. Her fingers tightened, and the short laugh melted into a groan. He had no choice, Grey thought, he had to believe she was awake.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, then the sensitive spot just below her ear. He breathed in the lavender fragrance of her unbound hair. His fingers made a trail from her temple to her throat and then to her breast. He lowered his lips over her nipple and raised it to hard arousal through the thin fabric of her shift. She moaned softly. His teeth caught a little of the material and a little of her. Berkeley arched, crying out.

Grey's head came up. "Did I hurt you? I didn't meana"" He stopped because she was already shaking her head no, and her eyes were darkening with the proof of her arousal. She shouldn't look at him like that, he thought. Everything he meant to say to her went out of his head. The things he wanted to hear from her were going to be left unspoken.

Grey raised himself just enough to be rid of his drawers. They were pushed under the covers to the foot of the bed-Berkeley's slender thighs came around him as he laid her on her back. He kissed her again, deeply and slowly, and erased the moment's look of unease that he saw shadow her features. He was determined to go very carefully this morning. There would be no pain for her this time.

Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders at first. Her mouth softened as he looked at her. He was being very patient, she thought. Considerate. She stroked his upper arms, then his back. She felt the matched pair of divots at the base of his spine. Berkeley's smile had a secretive cast.

Grey felt as if she'd reached inside his chest and pulled out his heart. He groaned softly in protest, then once more in surrender.

"Have I hurt you?" she asked. Her faint smile disappeared altogether.

"No."

"Good." Berkeley let him kiss her. "You have two dimples here." She knuckled them lightly to indicate her discovery. It had the effect of pressing Grey's arousal more firmly against her. Her eyes widened.

"You weren't expecting that," he whispered.

Berkeley shook her head.

One of his hands stroked her from breast to hip. He lifted himself off her and let his fingers dip between her thighs. She was small and tight and completely ready for him. Still, he stroked her. Her body accommodated one finger, then two. She sucked in her lower lip and pressed her mons against his palm. The pale triangle of hair was as soft as fleece beneath the heel of his hand.

Berkeley was turned toward him. Her thigh hooked over his hip. She was lifted slightly, held there while he probed, then settled by slow degrees until she had all of him inside her.

Berkeley spoke her thoughts aloud. Her voice was husky, almost inaudible. "It doesn't hurt this time."

Grey was gratified to hear it, but he didn't miss the underlying surprise in her voice. His lips brushed her mouth. He held himself still inside her. It had been his fault that she'd had pain before. Mostly his fault, he amended. Her omission that she was without experience had contributed to some of her discomfort and lingering fears. "I will never hurt you again," he said against her lips.

He was struck suddenly by what he heard himself say. He'd meant it not I. It will never hurt you again. The act. Not him personally. How was he supposed to manage that?

Berkeley drew his head back to hers. "You're a very good man," she said softly.

Grey almost believed her.

They stayed in bed until long after sunshine burned through the fog. Grey made love to her a second time as she came out of a light doze. He hadn't slept at all. She couldn't seem to help herself.

Grey leaned back against the headboard. His fingers sifted lightly through Berkeley's silky hair. Her eyes were closed, but this time he knew she wasn't sleeping. Beneath the sheet her hand stroked his thigh. It was almost too much. Almost.

He remembered how easily she had taken him into her that second time, how snugly she held him. She had explored him with her hands and fingers and finally her mouth. She had a generous mouth, soft and succulent lips. Her kisses were heady. She had moved over him slowly, tasting him, but more than that. Savoring. She did not seem to find anything about him uninteresting.

She hadn't shied away from the puckered scar on his side or the three stripes on his back. She'd kissed them without comment, her fingertips gentle in their search. Her touch raised heat under his skin that didn't dissipate once her hand moved on. She didn't talk at all. Except for a slight murmur, the hum of her pleasure, she was silent.

He moved over her and in her. Their bodies rose and fell in splendid unison. The tension and hunger had been there from the beginning. They had nurtured and sustained it with their searching mouths and hands and when they sought the final expression of it, pleasure surged over them.

It was Grey who came first, burying himself deeply inside her. He spilled into her while her fingers pressed whitely into his back. The tremor that rippled through him rippled into her, and she came under him, her body stretched taut, her head thrown back, her beautiful mouth parting on a sharply drawn breath.

Grey touched Berkeley's cheeks with the backs of his fingers. "Why did you run off this morning?" he asked.

Her smile was a trifle bittersweet. "To avoid this, I expect."

"This?"

Berkeley's hand stopped moving along his thigh. She opened her eyes and sat up. The strap of her shift fell over her shoulder, and she raised it back into place. "This," she repeated. "The questions. You have them, I suppose."

"A few," he said mildly. His eyes narrowed slightly as the strap slipped over her shoulder again. This time he put it up. He touched her chin and lifted it. "Don't you? Or did you really learn everything about me when I put my palm in your hand?"

She merely regarded him steadily. He had asked the question with too much lightness for her to answer. No matter how it appeared to Grey Janeway, there had been nothing impulsive about her decision to share his bed. Not last night and not tonight. "What do you want to know?" Berkeley brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek.

"You'd never been with any man until yesterday," he said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Was it so very important?"

Grey thought about it. "I suppose not. It's done. I would have rather not hurt you."

She shrugged. A light flush filled her cheeks with color in spite of her seeming indifference. "It wasn't so bad."

One comer of Grey's mouth lifted wryly. "d.a.m.ned with faint praise," he said under his breath.

"What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. It doesn't matter." Grey picked up her hand and laced his fingers with hers. He was struck again by the contrasts. His hand nearly swallowed hers. "Anyway," he said, "I think I did know the truth in the beginning. I let myself believe what I wanted to later on."

Berkeley raised his hand and brushed her lips against his knuckle. It wasn't simply that he understood what she had known all along, but that he had said it aloud. At his core Grey Janeway was an honorable man. A sweetly decent, honorable man.

Berkeley found she could take solace from that, even while it made the other things she sensed about him all the more confusing.

"Would you have come back this evening?" Grey asked.

"You mean if you had asked?" she said. "Instead of threatening Nat with eviction?" Berkeley felt the intensity of his blue-gray stare. His honesty deserved hers. "Yes. I would have come back to your bed."

Grey knew himself to be a coward then because he didn't ask the obvious question. He didn't ask why. "You didn't move any of your things here."

"That's not true. I brought the box Shawn made for me and my earring. I don't own anything else."

He gave her a stern look. "Berkeley. I don't think of you as an investment like the carpets and mirrors and gaming tables. The gowns are yours."

"When I pay for them." She relented when she saw his mouth thin. "Very well. They're mine. I'll move them in later today." Berkeley slipped her hand free of his. "Sam told me you went to see Ivory DuPree."

"Sam talks too much."

"Well?" Berkeley asked.

Grey thought he heard about a half dozen questions in that single one. "She confirmed your story. She told me no one knew about it."

Berkeley nodded. She looked down at her hands. "She was bitterly ashamed."

Grey sat up a little straighter. "Those are the same words she used. How did youa""

"You don't understand yet, do you?" Berkeley's large, expressive eyes betrayed her disappointment. "It's what I felt.''

"I can't accept that," Grey said. "Brock told you something."

"He didn't, but I can't prove it." She touched his wrist. "Does it frighten you, Grey? This gift I have, does it bother you so much?"

"It scares the h.e.l.l out of me."

"Why?"

He was stubbornly silent.

Berkeley leaned forward. Her voice was gentle. "Do you think I'll tell someone about the man you killed?"

Chapter Nine.

Grey stared at Berkeley. Nothing about his features changed but incredulous was inadequate to describe what he was feeling. After a moment he shook his head as if recovering from a blow. "The man I killed?'' he repeated under his breath. Before she could answer, Grey held up one hand. "Never mind." His hand stayed in midair long enough to halt Berkeley, then went to the back of his neck. He bent his head and rubbed the corded muscles. When he looked up again he noticed her expression was one of concern. She was concerned for him. Clearly she had no idea that he was at all worried about her. "Why in the world would you think I've killed someone?" he asked gently.

Berkeley's mouth flattened a little. "I'm not a child," she said. "And I'm not addled. There's no need for you to condescend to me."

Grey thought it best not to say anything.

"Are you denying it?" asked Berkeley.

That he had been condescending? he wondered. Or that he had committed murder? Grey thought one of them should strive for clarity. "Berkeley, I haven't killed anyone." To the best of his knowledge, it was true. "Now, tell me why you don't believe me."

"I know what I felt when I held your hand," she said.

"That was your reasoning when you expected Mike to die."

Berkeley looked away. "I'm not sorry Mike's recovering. I never wanted him to die to prove myself. But I wasn't entirely wrong either. I did sense he was going away. I merely mistook the cause. And I told him he would see his family."

"Those things are going to happen because I'm making them happen," he reminded her. "I'm the one making the arrangements and paying for his pa.s.sage."

Berkeley's head came up. Her expression was earnest. "Don't you understand, Grey? It doesn't matter how the end comes to pa.s.s, just that it does. Your interference was critical to make things come about. You were part of the outcome all along."

"With that sort of thinking you can make most anything seem as if you predicted it."

"Isn't that the point downstairs?" she asked. "Isn't that what I've been hired to do with the Phoenix's patrons?"

"Yes," he said slowly. He could tell Berkeley was warming up to something.

"But you don't like that I believe I can do it. Is that it?" She waved a hand dismissively, not waiting for his reply. "Don't bother to answer. You're quite content thinking it's all a parlor trick. I don't know why I'm surprised. Andersona my father was the same way. He was never really certain about my gift, but he never took any chances with it either. He kept me close. He was always watchful. He insisted I do exactly as I was told." Berkeley gave Grey a frank look. "You're not so very different."

"I don't think you're a performing bear," he said.

Her short laugh held no humor. "I've been to Sydney Town, Grey. I've seen that poor animal chained in front of the Fierce Grizzly. My leash is only a little longer than hers."

Grey reached for Berkeley, but she was like quicksilver. She slipped free of the fingers that just touched her wrist and slid out of bed. Without a backward glance she walked into the dressing room and closed the door.

Berkeley did not move her clothes into Grey's suite that afternoon, and she did not return to his bed that night. She removed the box that held the earring from his mantel and replaced it on her own.

Grey did not insist that she join him that evening or any of the ones that followed. Except for the fact that he gave Nat Corbett his own room on the third floor, Berkeley could have believed Grey didn't notice her absence from his bed or her presence anywhere else.

They were coolly polite in public and never spoke in private. For her own protection, Berkeley continued to address him as Grey when they were together in the gaming hall. The illusion that they were lovers did indeed keep the majority of men from propositioning her. In front of those who worked for him there was no illusion, he was Mr. Janeway and she was Miss Shaw.