“Well, apparently we’re not.”
“God, you feel good.”
She couldn’t help stealing another glance toward the staircase. “I’m completely naked.”
He chuckled low. “We just gave in, broke all our promises, consummated our marriage, and you’re worried because somebody might have seen us?”
“Yes,” she admitted in a small voice. She hadn’t really had time to think about the consummation angle. More that they had, foolishly, given in to their physical attraction.
“You’re delightful,” he told her.
“That sounded patronizing.”
“Did it?” His voice dropped to a sensual hush, and his mouth moved in on hers. “Because patronizing is the last thing I’m feeling right now.”
His kiss was long and deep and thorough. And by the time he drew back, the pulse of arousal was starting all over in her body. She wanted him. Still.
“Again?” he asked, nibbling at her ear, his palm sliding up her rib cage toward her breast.
“Not here.” She didn’t want to risk it again.
“Okay by me.” He gently eased himself from her body, flicked the button to close his pants, then lifted her solidly into the cradle of his arms and headed for the staircase to his bedroom.
“My robe,” she protested.
“You won’t need it.”
Zach held Kaitlin naked in his arms, inhaling the coconut scent of her hair, reveling in the silk of her smooth skin beneath his fingertips. A sheet half covered them, but his quilts had long since been shoved off the king-size bed.
“This is gorgeous,” she breathed, one hand wrapped around the ornately carved bedpost, as she gazed up at the scrollwork on his high ceiling.
“This is gorgeous,” he corrected, stroking his way across her smooth belly to the curve of her hip bone.
She looked great in his bed, her shimmering, auburn hair splayed across his pillowcase, her ivory skin glowing against his gold silk sheets.
“I never knew people lived like this.” She captured his hand that had wandered to her thigh, giving his palm a lingering kiss.
“It took me a while to figure out some people didn’t,” he admitted.
She released his hand and came up on one elbow. “Were you by any chance a spoiled child?”
“I wouldn’t call it spoiled.” He couldn’t stop touching her, so he ran his palm over the curve of her hip, tracing down her shapely thigh to the tender skin behind her knee. “But I was about five before I realized everybody didn’t have their own castle.”
Kaitlin’s eyes clouded, and she went silent.
He wanted to prompt her, but he forced himself to stay silent.
She finally spoke in a small voice. “I was about five when I realized most people had parents.”
Her words shocked him to the core, and his hand stilled in its exploration. “You grew up without parents?”
She nodded, rolling to her back, a slow blink camouflaging the emotion in her eyes.
“What happened?” he asked, watching her closely.
“My mom died when I was born. She had no relatives that I ever found.”
“Katie,” he breathed, not knowing what else to say, his heart instantly going out to her.
She’d never mentioned her family. So he’d assumed they weren’t close. He thought maybe they lived in another part of the country, Chicago perhaps, or maybe California.
“She either didn’t know, or didn’t say who my father was.” Kaitlin made a square shape in the air with both hands. “Unknown. That’s what it says on my birth certificate. Father—unknown.”
Zach’s hand clenched convulsively where it rested on her hip.
“I never knew,” he said. Though he realized the statement was meaningless. Of course he never knew. Then again, he’d never asked. Because he hadn’t wanted to know anything about her personal life. He simply wanted to finish off their business and have her gone.
Now, he felt like a heel.
“I used to wonder who she was,” Kaitlin mused softly, half to herself. “A runaway princess. An orphan. Maybe a prostitute.” Then her voice grew stronger, a trace of wry humor in its depths. “Perhaps I’m descended from a hooker and her customer. What do you suppose that means?”
Zach brushed a lock of her hair back from her forehead. “I think it means you have a vivid imagination.”
“It could be true,” Kaitlin insisted.
“I suppose.” Since the idea didn’t seem to upset her, his fingertips went back to tracing a pattern on her stomach. “I guess I’m the rouge pirate, and you’re the soiled dove.” He brushed his knuckles against the skin beneath her bare breast. “Just so you know. That’s working for me.”