CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SEAN FOUND JACKSON up a ladder, fixing the roof of one of the lodges. “You get all the glamorous jobs.”
“That’s me. Living the life of a tycoon.” Jackson finished the job and climbed down the ladder. “I assume you’re getting your butt back to Boston?”
“Soon. I just checked on Sam. He’s doing all right.”
“Thanks to you.” Jackson put his tools down. “So when will we see you next? Christmas?”
“Gramps invited me to family night.”
His brother smiled. “I wish I’d been there to see your face. I presume you won’t be there?”
“No, but I’ll be here next weekend. I’m taking Élise out to dinner so if you want to put dents in me, you should probably do it now.”
Jackson wiped his hands on his jeans. “From what I heard, she’s perfectly capable of putting dents in you herself. What did you do to her?”
“Nothing! Not that it’s any of your damn business.” Sean swore under his breath. “Is anything secret around here?”
“Not when you’re living in my house, trailing lake water into my kitchen and distracting my staff.”
“As it happens I didn’t do anything, but there was a time I probably did deserve it and didn’t get it so we’ll call it even. Can the restaurant survive without her on Saturday night?”
“If she says it can, then it can. She’s the one in charge of that side of the business. She’s been careful to put in a good staff so that the place doesn’t fall apart if she isn’t there. And she deserves five minutes off. I’m just surprised she wants to spend it with you.”
Sean gave a short laugh. “Thanks. I love you, too.”
He never said it, he realized. He never said those words to his family.
They all just took it for granted.
“So is this going to be a regular thing? You coming home more often? Because over the past couple of years I got the impression you’d rather be just about anywhere but here.”
It was the first time they’d addressed the truth so bluntly.
Sean felt tension ripple across his shoulders. “I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, I get that. But we both know that isn’t what’s keeping you away.” Jackson kicked a stone with the toe of his boot. “You’re not the only one who misses him, you know. We all miss him. And Gramps probably misses him most of all.”
Sean felt a stab of guilt because he knew he’d been so focused on getting through his own grief he’d barely thought about anyone else. His strategy for survival had been work and absence. “We had a row. At the funeral.”
Jackson nodded. “I guessed there was something.”
“I said things—” The memory ripped through him, bringing with it the pain and the feeling of helplessness. “I was out of line.”
“It was a bad time for all of us.”
“I blamed him.” Sean pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I said it was his fault. If Dad hadn’t hated being here so much, he wouldn’t have gone to New Zealand. Wouldn’t have been in that damn car and wouldn’t have hit the ice.”
“You know that’s bullshit, right?”
“Is it?” He couldn’t quite let go of it. It had played on his mind over and over again. Every time he was on the edge of bringing up the subject with his grandfather, that fact got in the way. “Gramps heaped pressure on Dad right from the start. All he ever cared about was this place.”
“Yeah, he cares about this place, but he was protecting the family home and business.” Jackson pulled the ladder away from the roof and lowered it to the ground. “Which is more than Dad did.”
Sean felt the anger spark. “He did his best.”
“Did he?”
“He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to spend his life doing this.”
“Then he should have stood up and said so. He should have had the courage to make that choice.” Jackson’s knuckles were white on the ladder. “Instead, he ran Snow Crystal into the ground. He should have told someone he couldn’t handle it, but he hid the figures from everyone, including Gramps. Gramps suspected, which is why he kept putting pressure on Dad to tell him the truth. Gramps was panicking.”
“Because he thought they’d lose the business—”
“Because he thought they’d lose their home! Everything! For fuck’s sake, Sean, think about Grams and Mom and all the people we employ. The truth is Dad had a responsibility and he ignored it. He took charge of the ship and then he stood there and let it sail onto the rocks.”
“That isn’t what happened.”
“Isn’t it? Were you here? Did you look at the books? Did you talk to Gramps about what was going on or did you just listen to Dad? Yeah, you two were close—I know that and I never had any problem with it, but it blinded you. You’re supposed to be a doctor. You’re supposed to be analytical and make judgments based on evidence, not emotion. Maybe it’s time you did that.”
Sean’s mouth felt as if he’d swallowed sand. The image in his head, once so clear, was blurry and distorted. “I had evidence. Dad used to call me late at night to offload. He told me Gramps was on his back the whole time. That he was doing his best but it was never good enough.”
“He called you? I didn’t know that.” Jackson closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your business in Europe was expanding. You had your own problems. I didn’t think you needed to know.” He breathed. “I should have known there was more than one side to the story. I should have asked more questions. I knew Dad hated running the business. He’d always hated it so I didn’t see anything new there. I didn’t know he was hiding things. I didn’t know he was struggling. Gramps never said anything.”
“He didn’t want to tarnish the memory we had of him.” Jackson gave a short laugh. “The irony was, I was doing the same thing. Once I discovered the mess, I tried to unravel it without revealing the extent of it. I thought it would upset Gramps. Turned out he knew all along.”
“When did you find out the truth?”
“After Dad died and I came home. By then Gramps was so terrified of trusting someone else, so guilty about giving Dad Snow Crystal when he didn’t want it, he was pretty difficult to handle. Wouldn’t let me pick up a pinecone without checking with him first.” Jackson picked up a bottle of water that was piled on his tools. “We got through it.”
Sensing the depth of that understatement, Sean felt a new respect for his brother. “You didn’t tell me any of that.”
“I didn’t want to tarnish Dad’s memory for you, either.”
“He resented this place. He felt as if it was trapping him. I guess he passed a little of that onto me.”
“He shouldn’t have dumped all over you the way he did. You should have said something.”
“Didn’t want to burden you with that.” He gave a humorless laugh. “So everyone was protecting everyone.”
“Seems that way.” Jackson drank. “And I was handling it. I thought the detail was something you didn’t need to know. If I’d known you were getting those calls, I might have thought differently.”
“It was always late at night. Must have been after Mom went to bed.”
“He unloaded onto you.” Jackson gripped the bottle of water in his hand. “You should have told me. And I should have told you about the mess he’d left. It would have stopped you nurturing your anger at Gramps for the past couple of years. Is that why you haven’t been coming home?”
“That and the guilt.”
“Guilt?”
Sean kicked a loose stone. “You gave up everything to come home and run this place. It dropped from Dad’s shoulders onto yours. And I left you to get on with it.”
Jackson frowned. “What else would you do? You may be a damn good doctor but you know nothing about profit margins and getting heads on beds. And there’s the fact that running this place isn’t what you want to do.”
“That’s true, but—”
“Running this place is what I want to do. It’s what I do best. You’re doing what you do best and we’re all proud of you.” Jackson screwed the top back on the bottle. “And that includes Gramps.”
Sean thought about the conversation they’d had earlier. “Maybe.”
“It’s not a maybe.”
“There’s something else. About Dad.” He licked his lips. He’d never said the words out loud before. Just thought them. “Do you think it really was an accident or do you think he—”
“No, I don’t. I’m not saying the thought didn’t enter my head at the time it happened because it did, but it only hung around for a second.” Jackson reached out and closed his hand over Sean’s shoulder. “Dad was a lousy businessman but he loved his family. And he loved this place. He just didn’t know how to run it and he didn’t want to learn. He crashed the car because he hit ice. The accident report was clear on that. Nothing else. He wouldn’t have done that to Mom. To Grams. To all of us.”
“I need to talk to Gramps. We’ve both been putting it off. Talked about everything but what happened. I owe him an apology.”
Jackson dropped his hand and grinned. “You could show up to family night. That should do it.”
THE RESTAURANT WAS pretty, with views over Lake Champlain to the mountains beyond.
“It’s charming.” Élise slid into her chair and glanced around her, taking in flickering candles and silverware. “Not as cozy as the Boathouse and less formal than the Inn. A blend of both.”
“Taking someone who can cook like you out to dinner is a daunting prospect.” But Sean didn’t look daunted as he spoke briefly to their waiter and shrugged off his jacket. She shouldn’t have looked, but she did. At his shoulders, broad and powerful under the tailored shirt, at his jaw, freshly shaved but already showing a suggestion of shadow. Tonight he was pure sophistication, but for a moment she had a vision of him stripped to the waist, working on her deck and then that vision morphed into another one of him, this time with his shoulders slammed against the tree, shirt half ripped where she’d torn it from his body.
Her heart beat just a little faster. It didn’t matter whether he was half-naked on her deck or dressed in a suit, he always had the same effect on her.
She was relieved he couldn’t read her mind and then she lifted her gaze to his face and realized that he could.
It was there in his eyes. The heat. The wry gleam that told her he was feeling the same way.
She looked away. “You shouldn’t feel daunted. I’m just pleased not to have to cook my own food.”
“You look pretty in that dress. Blue suits you.”
Her pulse danced. Her life didn’t include dinner with men and compliments. “It’s teal.”
“Is it? Then teal suits you. This place is supposed to be the best place to eat around here. The chef is new.” He relaxed in his chair, glancing around him and she wondered if he’d sensed her tension.
“I can’t wait to see the menu.”
“You’re not looking at the menu. I’m ordering.”
“You think I’ve lost my powers of speech?”
“No, but if we give you a menu you’ll be studying every dish and every ingredient instead of paying attention to me. We’ll have the chowder followed by the maple glazed duck.” Smiling, he handed the menu and the wine list back to the arriving server and ordered a bottle of Pinot Noir. “Are you going to tell me off for ordering red wine with fish?”
“No. I love Pinot Noir, as you well know. It is an excellent wine for food.”
“And a really tricky grape to grow. André Tchelistcheff said ‘God made Cabernet Sauvignon whereas the Devil made Pinot Noir.’” He waited until the wine was poured and lifted his glass. “One day I’ll take you on a Pinot Noir tasting trip to California. We’ll start in Yorkville and end up on the coast at Albion. Forty miles of glorious scenery. Redwood forests that have been there for centuries and acres of vineyards. We could even drive to San Francisco and spend a few days tasting sourdough bread and seafood.”
He was talking as if they had a future. As if this were a relationship, not a night out.
Or maybe he was just trying to keep the conversation light and general to make her comfortable.
She studied the color of the wine, a light ruby-red, thinking that what he described sounded wonderful. “That would be like a dream.”
“It doesn’t have to be a dream. Now that the Boathouse is up and running you can employ more staff, have more time off.”
“We can’t afford to employ more staff. Things are better, but not that good. I know Jackson is still worried. He worries that if the winter season is not good, if there is not enough snow—” She shrugged. “It is very hard for him.”
“No one knows more about getting heads on beds than my brother. He ran a successful hotel business before he took over Snow Crystal. And of course, now he has Kayla and she has serious skills when it comes to spreading the word about something.”
Their food arrived and she admired the presentation and then savored the flavors. “It’s good. You chose well. It is the first time anyone has chosen food for me since I was about four years old. My mother used to save hard and once a month we would go to a restaurant. She would let me choose what we ate. She wanted me to study the ingredients and decide what sounded good together.”
“That sounds like a perfect mother-daughter trip.”
“She thought it was important. A good way to spend money. If I am honest I was just as happy cooking with her at home.”
“You said your earliest memory was cooking madeleines. That’s what you were doing in that photograph in Heron Lodge?”
Emotion settled in her chest. “Yes. For me, my whole childhood is in that one picture.”
“I’ve never tasted your madeleines. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten one.”
“I don’t make them anymore. I haven’t because they remind me—” She shrugged. “There are other delicious things to make.”
“Would you like to have your own restaurant?”
She was grateful for the change of subject. “The Boathouse feels like mine. And living at Snow Crystal is my dream. I wouldn’t want anything else.”
“My family is lucky to have you.”
“I’m the lucky one.” She glanced up. Candlelight flickered across his features, softening hard lines and sending a shimmer of light over glossy dark hair.
She decided that with this man as her date ambiance was irrelevant because no woman in her right mind would be focusing on anything but him. And it wasn’t just his looks that drew her, he was sharp and clever and talking to him gave her a rush she could never remember having with anyone else.
She barely remembered what she and Pascal had talked about. It had been a relationship based around food. Their job. And he’d never shown any interest in what she wanted. Never asked her about her dreams. Never paid her the attention Sean did.
She thought about the night they’d spent in the tent. The night he’d spent just listening while she’d spilled all her secrets.
And he was listening now, his gaze warm and attentive. “You’ve done a good job with the Boathouse. It will give Snow Crystal a real boost.”
“Without you it would not have been finished, but it all had a happy ending. And talking of happy endings, little Sam went home yesterday. He seemed none the worse for his scary experience and they’ve already rebooked for Christmas and next summer.” It unsettled her less to talk about work, to keep the conversation neutral, and perhaps he realized that because he did the same thing.
“That will keep Jackson and Kayla happy. How about you? Still having flashbacks?”
She shuddered and put her fork down. “I do not allow myself to think about it.” That was one topic she wasn’t prepared to use for distraction purposes.
She glanced across at him, ignoring the uneven thud of her heart.
His shirt was open at the neck, showing just a hint of his throat, but all she needed was a hint. She was more than able to fill in the blanks.
She noticed the woman at the table nearby sneak a glance in his direction and was torn between annoyance and sympathy. If you were female it would have been a waste not to look at Sean and to be fair to him the only person he’d looked at since entering the room was her. “He told me that you texted him. That was kind.”
“He had a fright. I’m glad to hear it hasn’t put them off coming back. So is the Boathouse busy?”
“Full every day, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Locals are using it for Sunday brunch. Jackson is pleased.”
He paused. “I spoke to him last week. I told him about Dad.”
“About the phone calls? I’m glad. You shouldn’t have had to carry that burden by yourself.”
“Turned out I should have told him a lot sooner.” His mouth tightened. “I was wrong about a lot of things.”
“About your father?” Élise put her glass down slowly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He gave a tired smile. “We both know the person I should be talking to is Gramps. You were right about that. And pretty much everything else. I think he’s coming around a bit. For a moment last week I thought he was going to bring the subject up.”
“He didn’t?”
“No. Just told me he was proud of me.” A faint smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Which was unusual.”
“I think seeing what you did for Sam made him realize how good you are at what you do. How medicine is the right thing for you.”
“I don’t suppose that will stop him nagging me to get a job closer to home.”
“No. And it won’t stop him nagging you to show up for family night.”
Sean laughed. “Tyler calls it Fright Night.”
They were talking, but every glance was filled with the promise of something more. The atmosphere snapped tight. Heat pulsed between them. It was almost impossible to conduct a conversation, but she was determined to try.
“I think it’s a lovely tradition. Not so different from my mother taking me out to dinner once a month. It was a time for us. A time we talked about things without distraction. Your family night is the same thing except there are lots of you and it’s very noisy. You’re lucky. So when are you planning to talk to your grandfather?”
“Tomorrow.”
“You’re staying the night at Snow Crystal.”
“That’s the plan.” His gaze was focused on her. “Of course, my brother is sick of having me as a house guest so I might end up driving back to Boston unless I can find somewhere else to sleep.”
Neither of them noticed as the waiter removed their plates.
“Sean—”
“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say you’ve never spent a whole night with a man, you don’t do that. But we already spent a whole night together, Élise. Last summer was the whole night. I’m just suggesting we do the same thing but without the butt-biting insects and the showers of rain.”
She laughed, as he’d intended her to. “I loved the rain. The whole thing was magical. Special.” But she knew it hadn’t been the rain or the scent of summer clinging to the forest leaves that had made it special, it had been the chemistry. The connection between them.
“I loved the rain, too.” The glint in his eyes suggested his memory of that night was as fresh as hers. “Let’s go.”
He paid, and they walked from the restaurant to the car, shoulders brushing.
“Thank you. I enjoyed myself tonight.”
“So did I. Next time I’ll take you to Boston. We’ll go to the opera.”
Next time? She felt as if she were on a runaway train with no brakes. “I’ve never been to the opera. My mother took me to the ballet once. It was incredible.”
“You’ll love it. Tyler calls it caterwauling.”
They drove home through darkness, along winding roads hugged by forests, through valleys and villages, past pretty churches and covered bridges.
She was aware only of him. Of his hands on the wheel, of his strength, his control.
Of her own feelings.
She couldn’t stop thinking, looking, wanting to touch until she thought she’d go mad with it. She thought it was just her, but then he stopped at a set of lights, reached across and slid his fingers over hers and her heart stopped.
Neither of them said anything and then she curled her hand into his, so aroused she could feel the delicious curl of anticipation unravel inside her.
He stared straight ahead and then finally, for one brief moment, turned his head to look at her. He pressed her hand down onto her leg so the tips of his fingers brushed against her bare thigh.
The look in his eyes robbed her of breath and by the time he turned into the road leading to the resort she was ready to throw herself from the moving car and head for the protective covering of the forest.
He killed the engine and they came together like two wild creatures. His mouth collided with hers. She locked her hands in the front of his shirt. She felt the bite of his fingers in her hair, the erotic slide of his tongue against hers, the heat of his mouth and the sizzle of the blood in her veins. It was a heart-pounding, blood-pumping kiss and she slid her arms around his neck, trying to get closer.
With an effort he dragged his mouth from hers, but only long enough to mutter the words “not here.”
They disentangled from each other long enough to stumble out of the car, then he grabbed her hand and they ran along the narrow trail that led to the lake and Heron Lodge.
Too far, she thought, and caught his shoulder with her hand.
“Kiss me—”
With a soft curse he slowed, lowered his mouth to hers and then groaned as she slid her arms around his neck. “Not here—not—” He clamped his arm around her waist, still kissing her, and she was scorched by the heat of it, drowned by the tide of sensation that threatened to knock her off her feet.
Dizzy from the skill in his kiss, she tugged at his shirt, desperate to touch, to have her hands on his body. “I want you—”
“Jesus, Élise—” He trapped her up against a tree, his hands on her hips, holding her against the hard throb of his erection as she dragged her hands over his shoulders. His muscles were rock-solid under her fingers and she closed her eyes as she felt the roughness of his jaw scrape the soft skin of her neck.
“Now—please now—” she couldn’t wait any longer and she heard him stifle an oath and then sweep her into his arms. “Sean—”
“Don’t say a word.” His teeth were gritted, his jaw clenched as he carried her the short distance to her lodge. “Just don’t say a word. And definitely don’t kiss me. I’m trying to walk.”
“I want—”
“Yeah, me, too.” He took the steps in two strides. “But this time I want to see what we can do with a bed and a locked door.”
The air was still, the water quiet and serene, the forest sleeping in the warmth of the summer night. Barn swallows swooped with the ruffle and quiver of wings as Sean crossed the deck but tonight she wasn’t interested in her surroundings, only in the man.
She trailed her mouth across his jaw and heard the breath hiss through his teeth. “Have I told you you’re sexy?”
“Don’t tell me,” he said, as he shouldered the door open, “not yet. Hold that thought.”
“You’re sexy—”
“Holy shit—” He kicked the door shut and then gave up the fight and took her mouth. He was out of control and she was, too, and they stumbled toward the stairs, losing clothes, kissing, touching, greedy and desperate.
She tore off his shirt. He stripped off her dress. Her bra hit the floor next and then the tiny scrap of matching silk that was all that was left of her clothing. And then they were both naked and he pushed her back onto the bed, his mouth on hers, his kiss hotly sexual and explicit.
Moonlight streamed through the open windows, spotlighting naked limbs, powerful shoulders, the gleam of black hair, the glimmer of blue eyes.
The heat they generated was ferocious, the need a ravenous beast inside her and she shifted her hips, wanting him so badly it drove everything she did.
His hand slid between her legs, the intimate stroke of his fingers sending a dart of agonizing excitement through her body. His mouth moved lower, fastening on her breast, teasing, driving her wild until her moans turned into a sob and he slid lower and spread her legs. She felt naked, exposed and just for a moment something in her faltered, but he trapped her there, anchoring her hips with strong hands while he tortured her with his mouth and his tongue, each skilled flick driving her higher and higher.
Finally, when she was right on the edge, almost blind with it, he shifted her under him and entered her with a single thrust that made her cry out. Hard, hot, powerful he surged into her and she dug her fingers into the sleek muscle of his shoulders, holding on, afraid to let go because she’d never experienced anything so out of control, so wild. And deep down a part of her knew this wasn’t just sex, that the connection was different this time, and briefly she struggled to regain her emotional balance, to find the level of control that had been her protection for almost a decade, but it was out of her grasp. The armor, the walls she constructed around herself for protection, came tumbling down, or maybe he smashed them down because the way he was looking at her, the way he held her gaze with each driving thrust, left her nowhere to hide. And she realized that this was exposed, not being naked, but sharing this moment of exquisite intimacy with this man.
“Come for me—” he growled the words against her mouth “—don’t hold back. I want all of it. All of you.”
“Sean—” she had no choice but to give him everything he demanded. She was lost, possessed, out of control and she felt sensation erupt and shower them both, dimly heard him groan as her body tightened around his and then she was tumbling, spinning, unable to stop herself, holding on to the strong shoulders, gasping his name against his lips as they crashed over the edge together.
It took a while for either of them to move or speak.
She was aware of the solid weight of him, of the strength of him as he held her, of the uneven rasp of his breathing as he struggled for control. And as for her—
She lay stunned, staring up at the ceiling of her little bedroom, trying not to panic.
What had happened?
“Holy hell—” He dropped his head onto her shoulder and then eased away from her, rolling onto his back and dragging her with him. “I’m proud of us.”
“Sorry?”
“We made it to the bed. For us, that’s a major achievement.”
Even in bed he made her smile. The panic faded. “The top of the bed. We didn’t manage to pull back the covers. I hope you didn’t drop bits of forest on my white bedcover. It’s very precious to me.” After the intensity of what they’d shared, it calmed her to keep the conversation light.
He lifted himself onto his elbow and eyed the pretty bed piled with soft cushions. “Who the hell has a white bedcover?”
“I do. It’s silk. It belonged to my mother.”
“Fine—next time we’ll just stay in the forest. Anywhere. I’ll give up the pretense of being a modern, sophisticated man. With you I’m right back in the cave, ready to spear something for you to cook.”
Laughing, flattered, she slid her hand over his jaw, feeling the rough scrape of stubble over her palm. “You’d ruin your shoes.”
“Damn, I knew there’d be a catch.” He leaned forward and kissed her mouth. “For you it would be worth it. So are you going to come and live in my cave?”
She knew he was joking but her heart beat a little faster. “Does your cave have silk sheets?”
“Not yet, but it will once you move in.”
“I’ll think about it. Or maybe we could just live in the forest. I love the forest.” She slid her hand to his shoulder, feeling pumped-up muscle and hard strength. He was more powerfully built than Pascal but she knew this man would never use his strength to hurt someone. That was a weakness and Sean was strong right to the core. “I liked being with you in the rain.”
His eyes darkened. “Great. The one thing I can’t fix for you. Maybe I should go outside and do my rain dance. Or we could use the shower. Would that count?”
“I like that idea. Shower and then sex on my silk sheets.”
“Sorry? All I got from that was the word sex. After that I zoned out.” His hand slid into her hair. “The shower is a great idea in theory, but I’m six-two and I’m not sure there’s room in there for both of us. I built that shower, remember? Tyler grumbled nonstop for three days because he kept banging his head when he was tiling. The sloping roof was a bitch to work around.”
“I think it’s charming. And I think it’s time to test its possibilities, don’t you?”
“Yes. No. Christ, I don’t know— Don’t ask me to think. I can’t think while you’re lying there naked.” His mouth found hers, rough, seeking as he plundered her lips. “You taste like heaven. I could kiss you all night.”
“I hope you will. It would be a shame to waste the time. You don’t come home often enough for that.”
“I’m thinking of moving back.”
Smiling, she slid out of bed and walked to the shower, knowing he was watching every movement.
In two strides he was behind her, ducking into the shower, cursing about the size of the room.
Although the space was small it was cleverly designed, a stylish wet room with Italian tiles and glass. The O’Neils had taste and the finish was perfect.
The room always gave her pleasure, but tonight it gave her more than that. It gave her heat and possibilities. And Sean. Here, in this confined space, she was even more aware of the raw power of the man.
Lifting her gaze to his, she saw desire burning in his eyes and knew he was seeing the same in hers.
“Rainfall. But presumably not cold.” He adjusted the controls so that the water flowed at the right temperature. Every movement he made was purposeful and she felt her stomach squirm and her blood heat as he gave a wicked smile and reached for the soap. His hands were large and strong and he stroked every inch of her, leaving no part untouched until she was gasping and pliant under the fall of water, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
He was as physical as she was. As passionate and unrestrained.
Slow foreplay was never going to work for them. Once again the meeting of their mouths was more of a collision than a kiss, the stroke of his tongue hot and sensual, the nip of his teeth adding a ferocity she found deeply thrilling.
She breathed in the scent of him, stroked her hands over hard muscle and glistening male flesh, listened to the harsh sound of his breathing. When he lifted her and fastened his mouth over her breast, she let her head fall back, lost in the excitement, the sensations, the pleasure that burst around her with each slow flick of his skilled tongue. She wrapped her legs around him, feeling the smoothness of him brush against her but he held her high, for once denying her what she wanted and needed.
“No—” he growled the words against her throat “—not yet.”
“Yes, now.” She drove her hands into his hair, brought her mouth down on his and moved her hips, but he was stronger and he held her tightly, trapping her movements against him so that she could do nothing to alleviate the growing ache in her pelvis.
“I want you. Again and again—” He pressed her back against the wall, kissing her long and hard as he reached out and killed the flow of water. Without the rush of water the only sounds were the jagged rush of their breathing. “How do I stop feeling this? Tell me, because at this rate I’m not going to be able to go to work on Monday.” With those words he peeled away another layer of her protection but before she could try and snatch it back he grabbed a towel from the rail and wrapped her in it, still kissing her. His movements were rough and uncoordinated but that made it all the hotter. The fact that this normally sophisticated, controlled man was thoroughly out of control around her, escalated her own excitement to fever pitch and she told herself that self-protection could wait. That this was still just sex. Just sex.
His hair gleamed dark with droplets of water and he picked her up and deposited her on the bed, naked and slightly damp.
“Do your sheets mind a little water?” He didn’t stop kissing her, trailing his mouth and tongue down her body. The heat was intense. The chemistry so powerful her belly cramped with it. When he raised himself over her she grabbed his shoulders, dragging him down to her. She felt him, thick and hard against her and then he rolled onto his back and pulled her onto him so she straddled him.
They were both so aroused there was no question of taking it slow or holding back. She dug her nails into the sleek, hard muscle of his shoulders and sank down onto him, taking him deep.
“God, Élise.” He groaned deep in his throat, thrust his hands in her hair and drew her head down to his. She sank her teeth into his lower lip and he retaliated in kind, his eyes locked on hers as he drove into her. His eyes were dark with heat and raw desire, his jaw clenched in a face so handsome it almost hurt to look at him. But she did. She looked and so did he. There was no hiding, no pretending, just the same honesty with which their whole relationship had been conducted. She felt herself start to fall, felt her own spasms grip his straining shaft and heard his agonized groan as he lost his own struggle to hold on to control. Sensation swamped her, crashed over her in brutal waves and he smothered her cry with his mouth as he thrust deep and emptied himself.
Recovery took a while.
Drained, shattered, she lay on his chest, aware of the warmth of his hand against her back, the protective curve of his arm. As her heart rate slowly approached normality, she tried to move but he held her trapped and shifted slightly so that he could drag the duvet over them both.
It was the final intimacy. An intimacy she hadn’t allowed herself since Pascal.
Frowning, she was about to slide out of his arms and make noises about him going home when he turned his head, hauled her against him and kissed her again.
He was a master kisser. He knew just how to use that clever mouth of his to rob a woman of willpower and he’d done it to her on numerous occasions, but not this time. This time his intent wasn’t seduction, it was tenderness and the slow gentle nature of the kiss rocked her world.
Shaken by feelings she couldn’t identify, she stared into those seductive blue eyes and felt everything inside her melt.
He clearly intended to spend the night and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“Do you honestly think that sleeping in the same bed is any more intimate than what we just shared?” The fact that he could read her so easily scared her.
“I don’t do this. And neither do you. You don’t ever spend the night with a woman.” She knew Sean had broken as many hearts as he’d mended bones. “You walk away. Every time.”
“Sweetheart, I can tell you there is no way I am capable of walking anywhere.” His eyes closed and a hint of a smile touched his firm mouth. “My body has ceased to function.”
Panic unfurled inside her.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
“Fine, but come straight back.”
Extracting herself from his grip, she rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom, wondering if he’d take the opportunity to leave once she was no longer in the room.
Churned up and confused, she took her time in the bathroom.
Ten minutes later she opened the door.
And saw Sean asleep on the bed.
He lay sprawled, long strong limbs stretched out, his left arm flung above his head. Those thick dark lashes that normally took second place to those blue eyes fanned bronzed skin and a strong bone structure.
Élise stood for a moment, locked in indecision. She could join him, but that would mean waking together and that would put their relationship on a whole other level and she didn’t want that.
She could wake him now and ask him to go and sleep at Jackson’s but he already slept the deep sleep of exhaustion. She knew his work was punishing and the events of the past few weeks had placed extra demands on his stamina. He showed nothing, absorbed stress and pressure like blotting paper, but still the effects were there.
There was no way she could wake him. She wasn’t that selfish.
With a sigh, she accepted that she wasn’t going to move him, which gave her two choices.
This time, she allowed her brain to make the choice, easing the covers over him so he didn’t get cold in the night.
Then she picked up a couple of pillows, pulled out a blanket from the white wicker basket at the bottom of her bed and resigned herself to a night on the couch.