Navy Woman (Navy #4)

Danger. Imaginary red lights started flashing before her eyes, and Catherine knew if Royce and she were going to maintain their platonic relationship, she was going to have to find a way to get out of his home—and fast.

Royce disappeared, and not wanting to leave him with the dishes, she quickly rinsed and stacked them in the dishwasher. She was wiping down the counter top when he reappeared. "Leave that," he said.

"I can't," she returned quickly, her eyes avoiding him. "My mother and I had this simple rule we followed for years, and now I'm a slave to tradition."

"What was this simple rule?" Catherine continued wiping far more vigorously than was needed. "Those who cook shouldn't have to do the dishes."

"Catherine." His voice was low and seductive. "Come here."

She swore the tension in the air between them was so thick it could be sliced and buttered. "I think it would be best if I left now, don't you?" Slowly she raised her eyes to his, seeking confirmation.

"No, I don't." He said so much more in those few simple words. He told her he was weary of this constant tension between them. He was through waiting. His patience had reached its endurance level.

So had hers, and he knew it. She wanted this, too. Sweet heaven how she wanted it.

Silence swelled between them, but for the first time in recent memory it was a comfortable silence unencumbered with misgivings and uncertainties. They both knew they were unwilling to wait any longer.

Royce took her by the hand and led her to the sectional sofa recently vacated by Kelly, pulling her down so they were side by side. They didn't speak, but there was no need for words, indeed words would have been a drawback.

Royce held her head between his hands and carefully studied her face. The look in his eyes, so earnest and intense, humbled her. They said she was the most beautiful woman in the world. His woman. Catherine wasn't going to argue with him, although she wasn't nearly as beautiful as he seemed to believe. His eyes smoldered with a blue light of yearning. Catherine was convinced his look was a reflection of her own. There was nothing between them. No pretense. No qualms. Only need. A need so honest, so comfortable, it seemed to flow between them like the peaceful waters of a rolling river.

Royce's mouth made a slow descent, and with a sigh, Catherine closed her eyes and raised her chin to be rewarded with what she'd waited so long to receive.

Catherine thought she was prepared. How wrong she was. How ill equipped. The moment his mouth met hers, she was assaulted with a swarm of warm sensations that came at her with the force of a bulldozer. He was gentle, so gentle. She hadn't expected that. Not when the hunger was so wild. Not when she'd been smothered in sensation long before his mouth found hers.

Catherine was enveloped in tenderness. She'd known from the first that Royce's kiss would be special; she hadn't expected to feel sensations so unbelievably potent that tears crowded the edges of her eyes. Sensations so powerful it was as though she'd never felt anything before this moment.

Royce groaned and slipped his mouth from hers. Burying his face in her hair, he drew in a deep, shuddering breath. He was about to speak, but she intercepted his action by directing his lips back to hers. They both seemed ready this time, prepared to deal with the wealth of sensation, eager to accept it. His tongue sought hers; she met his eagerly with soft, welcoming touches.

They found a rhythm with each other. A cadence. It was as though they were familiar lovers, enjoying a long series of deep, lengthy kisses full of hunger and desperate need. Soon Catherine was clinging mindlessly to Royce. Prepared for anything, for everything.

"I knew it would be like this." He braced his forehead against hers as he drew in several deep, even breaths as though he were struggling to believe all that was between them.

Catherine hadn't known it would be anything close to this wonderful. She hadn't a clue. Nothing could have prepared her for the fierce onslaught of feelings. Her body pulsed with desire, a need so great that she hurt in strange places.

Royce's hands shook slightly as he unfastened the buttons of her gray silk blouse. He peeled it open and released the clasp of her bra, then caught her breasts in his open palms as they sprang free.

Catherine moaned at the fresh onslaught of warm sensations. Her nipples were hard long before Royce caressed them with the callused pads of his thumbs. She thought it impossible, but they tightened even more. The feelings were unfamiliar, this being so needy, so wanting.

Slowly he lowered his mouth to the summit of her breast, capturing the tender nipple between his lips, laving it with the rough edges of his tongue. When Catherine was convinced she could endure no more, he drew it into his mouth and sucked gently. Catherine moaned and buried her fingers in his short hair, needing to touch him. She felt so close to him, closer than she had to anyone. She loved him so much in that moment, it was all she could do not to weep. Royce loved her, too. Catherine was as confident of that as she was of his love for Kelly.

Royce transferred his attention to her other breast, and Catherine groaned once more. She recognized the sound. It was the type of whimpering noise a woman makes when she's ready to make love, ready to receive a man.

Royce apparently recognized it, too, and slowly raised his head. His gaze melded with hers, seeking confirmation.

Catherine's heart was in her throat. She wanted him. He wanted her. Oh, sweet heaven, how she wanted him. Royce must have read the need in her eyes and, responding to it, reached for her once more, his hands cupping the undersides of her face.

His mouth found hers in a hot kiss of savage frenzy. He thrust his tongue forward and swept her mouth with a wild kiss that told her he was fast reaching the point of no return. Even as he kissed her, his hands dropped to work open the zipper in the jut of her hip.

Some shred of reasoning, some ray of sanity grasped hold of Catherine's mind before Royce managed to succeed in opening her slacks. Had they both gone crazy? With their very careers on the line, they'd walked into this with their eyes wide open. In one blindingly clear revelation, Catherine knew they had to stop. It wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't what Royce wanted, either. But it was necessary.

"Royce...no." She scrambled from the sectional, her chest heaving with the effort. She had to escape before it was too late, before he kissed her again.

"Catherine?" Her name became a mixture of shock and need. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she assured him, so close to tears her voice wobbled like a toy top. "Everything," she amended. She couldn't stand so close to him and not be affected. It was either move away or fall willingly back into his arms. She couldn't resist him; she couldn't think when he was looking at her with such tenderness and concern.

She moved across the room from him, and braced herself against the opposite wall, needing its support. Her heart was beating so hard, the sound ricocheted around the room, each beat stronger, each beat louder. Surely Royce could hear. Surely he knew.

"We can't do it...we can't," she whispered, fighting back the tears. "Don't you understand how foolish it would be for us both..."

Royce moved off the sofa and walked purposely toward her. "Why not? Kelly's upstairs asleep...."

"Please, oh, please, don't argue with me. This is hard enough...so hard." Explaining would have depleted her of the strength she needed to follow through with her resolve.

Capturing her hands in his own, Royce lifted them above her head, and then, leaning forward, boxed her in with his muscled arms. His body was so close, she could feel the heat radiating off him.

"Royce," she pleaded once again, rolling her head to one side.

His thighs, taut and hard, pressed against her. It wasn't the only part of his anatomy that was hard, and that was pressed against her as well. Catherine moaned as the excitement shuddered through her, and dropped her head, weakening. It would be so easy to swirl her hips, to move against him. She longed to savor his strength, his power. It would be so easy to surrender to the gnawing need.

"Royce, what?" His mouth was so close, so warm. He nudged his nose against her earlobe, then took it gently between his teeth and sucked. Once again wild excitement seized her, and it was all she could do to keep from buckling against him.

"Don't...oh, please, don't." But her pleas lacked conviction. If anything they sounded more like a siren's call, an inducement to continue doing the very things he was.

"You taste so sweet," he murmured, dragging his mouth down the slope of her neck, then taking nibbling kisses at the scented hollow of her throat. Catherine moaned and rotated her head, granting him access to his desires. And he did desire her. It was as if a giant storehouse of need had been building in both of them, and had burst open all at once. His mouth found hers, his kisses hot, filled with an untamed urgency, his hunger as raw as her own. His tongue swept her mouth, and before she realized what she was doing, Catherine pulled her hands free from his and grabbed at his shirt, demanding more and more, holding on. Royce answered by ravishing her mouth in a kiss so blistering, so carnal that any and all resistance in Catherine melted.

Pinning her against the wall with his hips, Royce started to move against her. Their kisses were so fiery, the air sizzled. The night sizzled. They sizzled. Abruptly Royce dragged his mouth from hers. "Tell me you want this as much as I do," he whispered. His voice was thick and hot. So hot against her skin his breath alone was enough to scorch her. That Royce would need her assurance touched something deep within Catherine. "Oh, Royce, yes...only..."

"What?"

"Only I won't be able to hide the way I feel if we make love. Not from anyone." Monday morning Elaine Perkins would guess what had happened between her and Royce. Catherine didn't doubt it for a moment. "I'm not nearly as good at disguising my feelings as you. It's hard enough now, but if we make love...if we do this... Everyone will know."

Royce went still for several heart-stopping moments before making a low, guttural sound of frustration and defeat. His shoulders heaved once as he rolled away from her and pressed his own back against the wall. "You're right."

"If I'm so right, then why is it so damned hard?"

"I don't know." He spoke through gritted teeth as he reined in his desire.

Catherine felt like weeping. "What are we going to do?"

Royce expelled his breath forcefully. "The hell if I know. I just hope to God the Navy appreciates this." Straightening, he heaved in one giant breath, squared his shoulders and with some effort managed to snap her bra closed. Then with deliberate businesslike movements he fastened her blouse, kissed her one last time sweetly, gently and whispered, "Now go, before I change my mind."

"Morning, Dad," Kelly said as she walked into the kitchen, dressed in her housecoat and slippers. She pulled out the chair and reached for a section of the Sunday paper. "What time did Catherine go home last night?"

"Early." Too damn early, Royce mused. Unfortunately it hadn't been soon enough. Royce couldn't believe how far matters had developed the night before. How far he'd let them develop. He'd never been closer to defying Navy regulations. If the commanding officer were to learn he was having an affair with Catherine Fredrickson, their lives would be ruined. Royce had seen it once before. An acquaintance had fallen in love with a woman in his command. They'd been discreet, or so they believed. Eventually it was discovered and they were investigated. No allowances had been made. No leeway given. Both parties involved had been immediately court-martialed.