to gain the petal-soft flesh of her sweet chin, to run his tongue down the glorious stretch of her long, satiny throat.
‘‘Oh, Hauk. Oh, yes, yes…’’ She pressed her hips up against him, in invitation, in a promise of something he knew he couldn’t take.
Yet still, she promised. She promised him everything. She murmured sweet encouragements, she drove him on with sighs.
He kissed the twin points of her collarbone, pausing there, where her pulse beat in the hollow of her throat, to breathe deep, to suck in the womanly, flower-sweet scent of her, adding it to the treasures he’d already claimed—that sigh before he kissed her, that later breath. Breath upon breath, he would have them all.
Those soft hands of hers were at his waist, fumbling with the shirt he wore, gathering it, sliding it upward. She caressed the bare skin over his ribs, scratching him lightly, tauntingly, with her fingernails.
He nuzzled the fabric of her light cotton blouse, burying his face in the soft swell of a breast, finding her nipple beneath the layers of clothing.
He teased that nipple, drawing it up to a point, then closing his mouth over it, sending out a focused breath of air across it, biting at it, lightly, feeling it pebble up more firmly, as if it begged for more.
She’d forgotten her task of removing his shirt. Her hand splayed in his hair now, pressing him closer, against her offered breast. He latched on, sucking, soaking the fabric over her nipple as he toyed with it.
‘‘Oh, yes,’’ she moaned, pulling him ever closer. ‘‘Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes…’’
He brought one hand between them, laid it in the center of her chest, against the glorious fullness of those proud breasts.
‘‘Yes…’’ She urged him on, soft lips against his ear, warm breath against his skin. She captured his earlobe, teased it between her teeth. ‘‘Yes, Hauk. Oh, yes…’’ Her hips moved against his, promising untold delights.
Offering everything.
All of her. All she was, all she had. So much. More than he had ever dared to dream of in his bastard soul.
A prize beyond measure. Worth any price. He found the first button on her blouse, captured it between his thumb and his forefinger.
‘‘Yes,’’ she whispered, one more time.
And then the phone rang.
Chapter Ten
The jarring bleat of the phone ruined everything.
Hauk went still as a statue in Elli’s arms.
She gripped his big shoulders and begged him, ‘‘Oh, please, just let it ring.’’
But he was already taking her hands, gently peeling them away, his face flushed and regretful, shaking his head. ‘‘We must stop. You know that.’’
‘‘No, I don’t know that. I don’t know that at all.’’
He stepped back from her. She had that feeling of something tearing again, as in the movie theater the day before. Only worse. A thousand times worse.
He said softly, ‘‘Answer the phone.’’
She wanted to scream, to throw something. ‘‘No.’’
‘‘Don’t behave like a spoiled child.’’
He was right and she knew it.
Not about having to stop—never, ever about that. She had given up fighting this lovely, impossible magic between them. And she was furious with him all over again, to look in his face and see his jaw was set—like his mind—against her, against what might be between them, against all they might share.
But acting out wouldn’t solve anything. She went to the counter and punched the button that answered the call on speakerphone. ‘‘Hello?’’
‘‘Elli. Oh, sweetheart…’’
‘‘Aunt Nanna.’’ Like her daughters, Elli’s mother had been one of fraternal triplets. Elli’s Aunt Kirsten lived in San Francisco. Aunt Nanna lived in Napa. There had been a brother, too, but he had died when Elli and her sisters were babies.
Nanna made a worried noise, low in her throat. ‘‘I was afraid…’’
‘‘Afraid of what?’’
‘‘That you’d already have gone.’’
Elli shut her eyes and tried to collect her scattered wits, to concentrate on what her aunt was saying instead of thinking of what hadn’t quite had a chance to happen between her and Hauk. ‘‘I, uh, take it you’ve been talking to Mom?’’
‘‘Oh, Elli. I just got off the phone with her.’’
Elli opened her eyes and there he was, watching. She turned away, toward the window, so she wouldn’t have to look at him. ‘‘I’ll be leaving in a few hours.’’
‘‘Oh, honey, are you absolutely sure about this?’’
‘‘Yes. I’m positive.’’ And she was. Positive about a lot more than just the trip to meet her father.
‘‘Ingrid’s so worried for you. I am, too. You don’t really understand the way things work in that place. I’m sorry to say it, but your father is not a man anyone should trust. He broke your mother’s heart, you know, he broke—’’
Elli had heard it all before. ‘‘Nanna, what, exactly, did he do that’s made you all hate him so?’’
Nanna took a moment to answer. Elli could just see her, pursing up her mouth. Finally she said, ‘‘You’ll have to speak with your mother about that.’’
‘‘That’s what you always say. And when I ask Mom, I get nothing. So let’s just leave it, okay? Accept the fact that I have to meet him, to decide how I feel about him for myself.’’
Nanna made a small, frustrated sound.
Elli said firmly, ‘‘I want to do this, I sincerely do.’’
Nanna sighed. ‘‘Your mother warned me that there’d be no way to change your mind.’’
‘‘And she was right—how’s Uncle Cam?’’ Her uncle was a total type A. He’d had a quadruple bypass a couple of months ago.
‘‘Elli—’’
‘‘Come on, Aunt Nanna. I’m going and that’s all there is to it. So how’s Uncle Cam?’’
The silence that followed told Elli her aunt was debating with herself—to let it be as Elli asked. Or to press on with her warnings and her worries.
Nanna let it be. ‘‘Your Uncle Cam is doing well. We’ve got him eating low-salt and low-fat. He’s taking his medication….’’
They talked for a few more minutes, about her cousins, Nanna’s son and daughter, who were both in high school, about Elli’s two classes of bright-eyed kindergartners. Elli promised she’d make it over to Napa at least once during her summer break.
‘‘Take care,’’ Nanna said at last. ‘‘Be safe.’’
‘‘I love you. I will.’’
The line went dead and after a second or two, the dial tone buzzed. Hauk was the one who reached out and pressed the button to cut off the sound. Elli turned from the window and met his eyes. Distant eyes now. Once again, he had barricaded his heart behind a shield of watchfulness. Looking at his stern, unforgiving face, she wanted to throw herself against him, to beat on his broad chest, to demand that he show her his real, tender self again.
Her shirt was wet, where he’d put his mouth to her breast. She looked down at it, at the moist circle over her right nipple. Then, proudly, she lifted her head.
‘‘Guess